With the price listed as “extortionate”, Varsity’s supplementary paper Farcity was published in 1950 with a small box on the back page declaring everything in the paper as “utterly untrue”. In case one of the stories hit too close to home, the editors professed themselves “completely baffled and [claimed] the protection of the Lunacy Act of 18 something”. Their writing, entertaining and farcical as it was, also served a higher function; every article satirised events and stories from that term. Through their farce, the editors achieved their goal at light-heartedly exposing the true extent of the Cambridge bubble.

Following the death of the Chancellor Jan Smuts, new elections were held for the position in late Michaelmas 1950. Far from the typical “nod through” (like all elections had been since the election of Prince Albert in 1847), this election was hotly contested and was widely viewed at the time as a bit of an embarrassment. Baron Tedder, a former RAF man, was the sensible candidate that was supposed to sail through the process in the Senate House, but a last minute nomination of Jawaharlal Nehru, an Indian anti-colonial nationalist, unsettled the system. Whilst ultimately unsuccessful as Nehru himself did not want the position, this nomination was hugely embarrassing for the University establishment given the senior support that he received: Lord Mountbatten, E. M. Forster, and Rab Butler were all supporters of Nehru’s nomination.

“To keep term, the reform panel stated that one must climb over college walls past curfew a minimum of 58 times”

With Farcity being “utterly untrue”, I imagine that the editors thought this grand political showdown was utterly trivial. The front-page of the supplement made this abundantly clear by celebrating the election of Mr Joe Blackbottom to the position of chancellor. Farcity reported that Mr Blackbottom had boozily commemorated his win in the Baron of Beef and was expected to outline his policies (thought to be in favour of the Cambridge Sewage Workers’ Union) at an upcoming wrestling match – in the ring! Most fitting for a Chancellor…

The comment column of 1950 was frequented by critical pieces on how the University was running. From the growing divide between don and student caused by “the overcrowded state of the University” to not-fit-for-purpose lecturers who got their jobs from “a brilliant academic career… without demonstrating [their] teaching abilities”, Varsity’s comment writers had plenty to complain about when it came to how the University approached its educational provision.

“[T]he Proctors would fine anyone caught climbing college walls after a night in the pub unaccompanied by a woman”

Farcity played with this in a piece “revealing” the findings of an examination reform panel. To sit an exam and thus gain their coveted degree, students must have kept three full terms. Sounds simple? To keep term, the reform panel stated that one must climb over college walls past curfew a minimum of 58 times. This esteemed reform panel went further and Farcity reported that all Blues must only study the History tripos, “in which they will automatically be awarded a second”. (I wonder how the historians took that!)

Presumably linked to the underlying dislike of gown-wearing and the Proctors, the satirical paper also reported that the disciplinary rules would be changing for Michaelmas ’51. Quoting the “Chancellor of Vice”, they relayed that “any person not wearing a gown after dark may claim 6/8 reward if he manages to catch a proctor.” Moreover, it was announced the Proctors would fine anyone caught climbing college walls after a night in the pub unaccompanied by a woman. Makes keeping term that little bit riskier…

Finally, jumping on the spy craze following the conclusion of World War Two that Varsity wrote extensively on, Farcity had an exclusive report on the uncovering of “suspected espionage on the behalf of a foreign power”. Mr van Damm, a lecturer in Nuclear Metamorphosis, had been engaging in a “type of explosive toffee apple containing uranium and a well-known deodorant” and passing secret messages to the Head Porter of Trinity (an individual “who is a known link in a nation-wide espionage network”). The note that led to this lecturer being arrested was concrete evidence; “Five pound on Little Willie for the three thirty”.