The Poet is Dead, Long Live the Poet

The time has come for me to hand over the reins of this illustrious blog to my successor, who has indeed already succeeded me in terms of poetry production around college - he was a great help in providing poetic coverage towards the end of Trinity last, when I was otherwise engaged variously revising for, sitting, recovering from and finally recovering from the recovery from Finals (all such activities rather restricted my ability or inclination to produce poems). The young Beestone is a poet of the highest calibre (.34 I believe) to whom I may pass the guttering and acrid torch of the Corpus Laureateship with almost no trepidation or fear that he will immediately extinguish it in some form of alcoholic beverage. Furthermore he is a classicist, so he probably won't need to ask advice when naming blogs using pretentious Latin. These and other characteristics make him the ideal person to look after your poetic needs around college, and had he anyone to actually run against in his election I would surely have given him my official endorsement probably. Thank you all for having such lovely ears into which to pour my poetic equivalent of reheated pot noodle, and good luck in your future audienceship. Jimmy, over to you.



Thanks, Ben! Yep, I'm now the man charged with custody of this most hallowed and smutty of institutions, and I shall endeavour to maintain the high standards of innuendo and forced rhyme of my illustrious predecessor. More of my work shall follow as it's written; so far I only have my début piece written at the end of last term, but for now, my friends, simply scroll down and delve into the tortured mind of a Corpuscular Poet...