Marketplace muffins: end the madness

This morning as I found myself dismally slogging away at my essay, lost and alone, I yearned for solace from my academic woes. How could I remedy my predicament?

I knew the answer. It was instinctual. A banoffee muffin from the Marketplace. Never had one? Sheathed in a sponge that is fluffier than the clouds of heaven, lies a gooey caramel center that can only be compared to liquid gold. Not forgetting of course, the dried flake of banana that garnishes its shimmering surface of culinary perfection. In terms of emotional fulfillment it is somewhere between an orgasm and all-encompassing nirvana.

So then, you can imagine my grief, when having advanced to the ‘baked goods’ section of the Marketplace like a bird of prey in fiery pursuit of a turtle dove, my lips salivating in unadulterated anticipation of the ecstasy that impended, I was confronted with a freshly emblazoned price tag of £1.69, the ink barely dry. The God’s that are the Marketplace bakers have had their illustrious creations tarred by the greasy fingers of corporate greed.

my lips salivating in unadulterated anticipation of the ecstasy that impended

Originally £1.09, these banoffee muffins have undergone an exponential price increase of over 50%. At their original price, it would simply have been rude to decline their mouthwatering magnificence. I do not exaggerate when I tell you they were the pride and joy of my life, and I am sure of many others’ lives too. Just a stone’s throw away from the sulphurous abyss which is the Forum Library, they gave me comfort when nothing else could; the thought of a banoffee muffin was my only beacon of hope in a world filled with cruelty and avarice.

I just can’t help but feel like I have been personally victimized by a perniciously corrupt system. I have no interest in their shameless ‘supply and demand’ economics, I was lured in, and now I am being coerced into financial ruin by an institution that is supposedly here to better my prospects in life. What does Global 100 mean to a guy who leaves university with a crippling addiction to banoffee bliss?

I consider this motion, no less than a tax on happiness. Who knew the bourgeoisie at University of Exeter administration were so callous? Is it not enough that we are paying you £9000 a year to be here and now you’re going to take away our muffins? I implore you to put an end to your capitalist frenzy. Those banoffee muffins weren’t merely food, they were a public service. They stimulate the release of endorphins into the blood stream.

Is it not enough that we are paying you £9000 a year to be here and now you’re going to take away our muffins?

It’s not necessarily that I couldn’t afford the extra 60 pence; it is the principle that I am being exploited. That extra 60 pence deprives me of the feeling that my indulgence is irrevocably justified by the feeling of euphoria induced. It’s the fact that you can’t put a price on that feeling. So I ask you now, not as friends, but as fellow human beings who are equally subject to the immeasurable vices in this world: to unite with me in opposing the evil that is the misappropriation of the banoffee muffin. Join with me today, for liberation from this injustice, by responding to my student idea on the Guild website with ‘strongly agree.’

Thank you, Comrades.