Fuck fuckity fuck. Bugger. The university, for no reason other than the fact that last year I worked a total of about twenty hours for the university redesigning a site that was never used, has decided to change my student number. So what, I say. And then I remember that my email address utilises my student number, so off I go to Student Services to ask them if this will change things.

Here's your new number, they say.

Thanks, I say. Now do I have to use it?

You'll use it to collect your pay and to access your ISIS details, they tell me.

Hoo-bloody-ray, I reply. I don't get paid any more and ISIS can bite my big toe. What about my email?

Oh, um, well... we don't know.

At which point I snapped and killed the whole bumbling, inept, useless fucking lot of them with a sharpened paper clip and my newly-collected Gnosticism essay.

They suck. A lot. But hey, I got my results today and I passed everything, and got a 78 in Historical Jesus, which means that since my essay was only a distinction, I probably caned the exam with a big stick. Which is amusing, because I thought it was a rather onanist exercise.