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THE SOUTHAMPTON HUNDREDS

40

Somewhere in the last term there’s something that catches something in me like a reverse ratchet. I click jumpily downwards until one day we are in a philosophy exam and I just sit there. I am aware of my friends’ concerned glances at my impassive non-writing and I feel bad about distracting them: but I just shrug, shake my head and sit there until the last half an hour, when I rouse myself and write a parody of ‘The Walrus and the Carpenter‘ that ends “They seized the false philosophers, and ate them, one by one.” Then I walk out.