A student in townies clothing

Sofa, i've not really stayed in touch

Well you knew as much

It's no surprise that today

I'll get up around six, and write a blog about you

So wrote Damon Albarn-Bacon in the summer of 1994 whilst reminiscing about happy days in the fens during his first year at University (“blog???”) in his seminal work “What’s the story (Sober Dave)”, and never a truer word was written in jest. Sofa was a man of few redeeming traits and a pair of unpleasant maroon basketball- style trainers whose laces he never managed to undo, who spent his days on the sofa and his night in the pub, after which he was prone to recreational violence, the undercurrent of which was detected, but never thankfully felt, by his housemates. I will always thank Sofa for allowing Steptoe to sub-let the sitting room to me, but this, of course, left me first in the line of fire when he returned home from the Earl of Beconsfield after an evening on the chum-beater. We called it a day in March, when Alex, Voldermort Gardener and I staged a coup and told him that it was all over. Cherry Hinton Road beckoned, as did a few final nights on the sofa of post-coup psycho-terror for your correspondent. Further drunken oblivion followed for the Sofa Monster who became the emu to “Rod Hull”, before Anglia & Sofa parted company due to Sofa's poor historical work ethic. Let’s hope the same fate which befell Rod Hull has been avoided by Big Steve, because as you may recall, Rod Hull died after falling off his roof whilst trying to adjust his TV aerial on evening for the football……