Dave the Don
When I was doing my final year project at University, me and the other guy writing on the same author (I did English) used to traipse once a week on a Thursday morning to see our thesis supervisor, Dave, who was a young-ish don, friendly if a bit tweedy, and seemingly very content with his life of study and teaching.

One morning, having both been awake pretty much all night (Geoff writing his essay, me boozing), we both met for a bit of breakfast at 8:30am then headed off to our morning meeting with Dave. When we got there, however, we found him standing outside his office as a couple of guys in overalls carried piles and piles of books and papers out of his room.

'Sorry lads - burst water pipe in my office.We'll have to pick up tomorrow I'm afraid....'

Neither of us replied. We were both looking past him.

Dave turned round, following our gaze to the massive stack of porno mags one of the caretakers had just placed on the floor in the corridor, then returned his gaze to us, looking sheepish. Then, with a half-raised eyebrow:

'Amazing the stuff the previous occupant left behind...'
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Thu 13 Aug 2009, 16:16, Reply)