‘The cunt, the cunt, you keep eating that, your whole guts, your whole guts, the cunt, the cunt…’ – and 38 verses like that. We often sang at our sorority, the girls as loud as the boys.
Nice song, yes. Smart also to make life ‘guy’, instead of cunnilingus ‘trembling’. Besides not deleting everything, writing is a matter of good choice.
In addition to singing and dancing, at Unitas we also did a lot of sports, endurance sports, mind sports, team sports, all kinds of sports. After studying, we liked to work on healthy bodies to house our healthy minds. ‘Well said.’ ‘I got it from my father, he got it from Juvenalis again.’
One of the sports was tap-hanging, skilled in the Joosbar, named after Joos Swinkels, the boss of Bavaria. He sometimes came by, to bless things, or to bless them, or how to say. Taphang, I have heard Reijmerink say, relies on endurance and technique, I believe in College Tour. For a long time my year clubg’noot was the record holder, namely 25.7 seconds (indoor). The big Joos was sitting in the ‘stand’ and fell from his barstool.
‘Top tap hangers’, Reijmerink told the students at the UvA, ‘can fold away their uvula, turning the stomach into a kind of boot and allowing the beer to pour in unhindered.’
‘Without hitting the pipe?’ Huys asked.
“You mean the bagpipe fills up without swallowing?”
‘Yes?’ said Huys.
‘That’s right,’ said Reijmerink. “But,” he advised emphatically, “as soon as foam starts coming out of your tear ducts, get out.”
I wasn’t on tap, I was more of a team athlete, beer relays, lawyer relays. I have dealt with the latter branch in literature in Otmar’s sons, the ideal beach book for in the shoe, therefore short. The g’nuts lined up. The smartest, Dirks, took a huge gulp of Black Chicken, sucked a little, and spat the lawyer in the mouth of the closest g’nut. That one sucked a little too, and squirted the quack into the next one. The game was on the wagon! Until number ten, Haaster, who was also praeses, meaning ‘leader’, drooled the entire emulsion into a glass and drank it. A team effort.
Also popular was adjekratje. Cyclists are often good at it. Peter Winnen has become proficient in it after his career, just like Joop Zoetemelk. At the start participants with crates of beer and an opener. It is important to drink the 24 bottles in your own crate as quickly as possible. The winner gets a sculpture. Nice achievement is that Pröppertje has also professionalized adjekratje. Our g’noot was the first to train at home. “I emptied a crate within 20 minutes this weekend,” he said. G’nuts: ‘Huh? Where?’ Pröppertje: ‘In my room.’ This set a new standard.
But after all, we were intellectuals, and what do they do?
‘To play chess.’
“No, drink drafts.”
That was great, the rector against the Bavarius, an annual match. Look, such a checkerboard often has a hundred squares, half of which are for decoration, so that, for everyone’s safety, there is only room for forty shot glasses. The rector played with jenever (white), the Bavarius with rum (black). Striking was obligatory, but, and now comes the drinking of the stone. The duel therefore invariably ended with an ambulance and the emptying of a stomach. It is said that they already took this into account in the AZU, at the outpatient clinic, perhaps thanks to Dr. Arnie, my g’noot and personal physician.