‘God, I know. Bloody girls are costing me a fortune in Baileys, hot chocolate and biscuits; maybe if I go cold turkey and stop supplying refreshments, people will stop coming,’ Jim said, with only half a smile. He looked out of Omar’s window. ‘God, you’ve got the best view. I wish I had a room like this. You’ve got the sunset and the spires. You’re out of the way, so no one can see if you’re in, and it’s small enough to have no one crowding you like you’re the bloody JCR. It’s an utter curse having a big room …’

‘Do you really think people come to you just because you’ve got Baileys and a big room?’ asked Omar, interested.

‘No, they come for my sparkling wit and repartee,’ said Jim, this time with a proper smile, as he accepted his tea graciously. ‘You know what? I’m glad Bloody Boring Benj turned up. I’ve been working for hours, and I didn’t realize how much I needed a tea break.’

‘Having an essay crisis?’ asked Omar sympathetically, trying out this new snippet of college lingo that he had learned.

‘Yeah, but I’ve had enough. I think I’ll go to the bar after this and scrounge the papers off the second years to copy out.’

‘Won’t the tutors notice?’ asked Omar, perturbed by the openness of Jim’s subversive intentions.

‘I’ve thought about it - the trick is to borrow lots of papers, not just one. After all, it’s only plagiarism if you borrow from one person. Borrow from lots, and it’s research,’ Jim said innocently. He saw a brief flash of frozen horror on Omar’s face, and stopped mid-munch. ‘Are you all right, mate? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

‘No, I’m fine,’ said Omar, realizing that he hadn’t been found out, and that Jim hadn’t come upstairs to expose him. He was just making conversation. ‘You just reminded me of my own essay crisis. It’s hard keeping up and playing with the band. I’m down in town again tomorrow.’

‘Another gig? You guys must be doing well,’ said Jim. ‘Do you have lots of groupies following you around?’