Arriving at Oxford’s Examination Schools, we found ourselves in a bit of a tight corner. The corner in question was very much a literal one: an awkward spot on the meandering route of the Freshers’ Fair, poorly located in terms of visibility, and in the dreaded Final Room. For those of you who have managed to purge from your memory the adolescent terror of Freshers’ Fair, where the heralds of the various societies are forced to leer out at the unsuspecting adolescents, Scylla-esque, and snatch at their shiny new University email addresses, it should be said that we were not overly optimistic for our chances. By the final room, freshers, no matter how initially doe-eyed, have developed an uncanny ability to avoid any eye contact that might invite a stall-holder to ask if they might like to sign up for their society. Dressed in our slightly oversized red polos, we steeled ourselves to ask the one question that we could to the now veteran streams of freshers: “Would you like to help the homeless?”