Last night during the end-of-class pub outing with my fellow students and Professor Richard Greene, I decided it would be hilariously funny to send my prof a “reminder” that he needs to return my DVD of Stephen Fry’s movie adaptation of Evelyn Waugh’s ‘Vile Bodies’, called ‘Bright Young Things’, which I loaned to him over a month ago BEFORE I had watched it myself, and still have not received back, despite repeated hints.

The obvious, final “hint” was to order a suggestively phallic plate of deep fried pickles (along the lines of ‘s earlier suggestion of using a Polaroid of vice-grips crushing grapes as a persuasive tool, except a lot more greasy), which I instructed the waitress to deliver to him, topped with an ominously worded note suggesting he return my movie to me “or else”. My professor read the note, then looked up at me sitting across from him at the table, then peered with horror into the basket of fried goodies: his face was stunned, puzzled, fearful. But he ate one, bravely, using the salsa provided.

I wonder what my grade will be in this class?