The Campus Trilogy by Anonymous

pass at her. Wait until I tell the committee.”
    “Do you have to?” I asked.
    “Not if you don’t want me to. But, the thing is, Harry, if we are to confront university management, we’ve got to have a clear case of misconduct. It seems to me that you’ve got one. Barraclough can’t go around suggesting to professors that they give up their jobs just because some stupid undergraduate makes damaging, unfounded charges about her teachers. It’s a question of fairness. The union has got to stand up to management. Let me speak to our regional rep, Morris O’Murphy. He doesn’t care what he says to people.”
     
    Over the weekend Victoria and I went to London. My father-in -law had come down from Wales to attend an old regimentaldinner at his club. We stayed at the Acropolis, and the next day he took me to lunch while Victoria went shopping at Peter Jones. The Burlington Club was located near Sloane Square in a small Victorian building with pillars at the entrance. When I arrived, Sir William was standing in the hallway talking to an upright white-haired gentleman wearing a red carnation in his button-hole. As we climbed the stairs to the dining room, he told me about the dinner the night before. “Glorious food,” he announced. “I hope lunch won’t disappoint.” We sat at a table overlooking Sloane Street.
    “So,” he asked, “how’s the RIP going?”
    “No, William, it’s not RIP, it’s RAE.”
    As the waiter took our orders, I explained that we hadn’t yet been told the criteria against which publications would be measured. He looked confused. “What do you mean they haven’t told you how all that stuff will be evaluated?”
    “Well, they just haven’t,” I said. “I know it’s stupid.”
    “And when is the judging going to take place?” he asked. He spoke of it as if it were some kind of agricultural show.
    “In about two years’ time. But it can include anything published in the last five years.”
    Sir William looked out the window for about a minute without speaking. “By Jove,” he eventually blurted out, “it’s just like the Caucus Race!”
    “The Caucus Race?”
    “In Alice in Wonderland ,” he said. “There was no fixed course. Everyone ran in whatever direction they liked. And they went on running until the Dodo said, ‘Stop!’ Then the question arose, who won? The Dodo declared: ‘Everyone has won, and all must have prizes.’ Your RAE seems to work in exactly the same way. I hope the judges are equally generous!”
    I was amused, “If I remember rightly everyone got a sugar comfit from Alice’s pocket and Alice’s prize was her own thimble!”
    At that point the wine waiter arrived with a bottle of claret and poured some into Sir William’s glass. “So,” he said, as hetasted the wine, “everyone must have prizes! Why don’t you tell whoever is in charge that’s the only solution?”
     
    I heard no more from the Vice-Chancellor about Mr Gold; it appeared that the issue of Lisa’s complaint had been dropped. Lisa did not reappear in my class, which had nearly tripled in size. I ordered more copies of my textbook for the library, and informed the University bookshop that they should stock my book as well. However, after several days a number of students complained that the books had not arrived in the library. I checked the library holdings. They were right: there were only four copies, and all had been checked out. I wrote a note to Jenny Sloth, the Registrar’s wife, who was in charge of ordering books at St Sebastian’s. A couple of weeks later one of my students came up after class. “Professor,” he said, “there’s still only four copies of your book in the library.”
    I did a library search on my computer. He was correct. I then sent an email to Jenny asking if the books had been ordered. I asked her to email me back. There was silence. I sent her another email. Again silence. Yet again students complained about the situation. I sent another