Kealey: More burkas, please!

Academic pervert Terence Kealey has written, for the Times Higher Education magazine that:

Normal girls – more interested in abs than in labs, more interested in pecs than specs, more interested in triceps than tripos – will abjure their lecturers for the company of their peers, but nonetheless, most male lecturers know that, most years, there will be a girl in class who flashes her admiration and who asks for advice on her essays. What to do?

Enjoy her! She's a perk.

She doesn't yet know that you are only Casaubon to her Dorothea, Howard Kirk to her Felicity Phee, and she will flaunt you her curves. Which you should admire daily to spice up your sex, nightly, with the wife.

As in Stringfellows, you should look but not touch.

Outraged overachievers everywhere called for the pervert academic's head for insinuating that 'normal' girls ought to disrespect their lecturers and just go out constantly, saying: 'First, A-levels are easy enough to be sat by monkeys, and now this. He's effectively saying that only the most abnormal of females actually cares about interacting with the people who have been paid to teach. Caring about what degree classification you get makes you a freak. Why doesn't he just ship our bright young women over to America, India and China himself?'

An unnamed female student at Buckingham University said: 'Actually, this is all the result of a terrible misunderstanding. The reason most of the class abjures his company, is because this pool of saliva forms on your desk if you happen to ask a question whilst being female. And he has really bad breath, and is often incoherent because he can't stop licking his lips and keeps jumping in the air and yelping whilst rubbing himself.'

She added: 'I would also like to categorically deny that I, or for that matter, Lucy - yeah, she's a friend of mine - 'flaunted our curves.' What's a girl to do when she forgets her glasses and has to go up to the lecturer to ask what the hell that weird squiggle on the whiteboard says?'

When contacted to clarify his remarks, Kealey insisted: 'What I said was highly moral. And you can't pin anything on me anyway, because the fault lies with the females. Everyone knows that a human woman higher education student is exactly like a female cat in heat. When she asks you for suggestions for her dissertation, EVERYONE knows she might as well be a pussy-cat lying back and showing you her bits. She WANTS IT.

And if she will insist on asking me to perform the duties for which lecturers are employed in the first place - well, I will have no choice but to imagine her face superimposed over that of my wife's. Spanking my Johnny. Nightly,' he added, twitching. 'Yes... it is good to think about the firm, white mounds of Lucy Norris each night... Night in, night out... Forgotten my glasses, she says! Got to check her final essay, the dirty minx!'

After a sudden, inexplicable 30-second break, Kealey resumed in a somewhat different tone of voice. 'Of course, my advising people to become obsessed with female students because it's better to constantly masturbate - I mean, copulate - to them rather than just listen to what they're saying, is common sense. Naturally, the way to avoid sexual liaisons *guffaw* is to encourage male lecturers - don't make me laugh, there aren't any 'female lecturers'! Ha! Ha! Ha! - to think non-stop about the foxy girlies. Look but don't touch - unless you're touching yourself.'

Adopting a sterner tone, he said: 'As I said, it's all the fault of the females really. I do so wish they would stay indoors. 'I want an education,' honestly. Still, if they WILL insist on intruding into the male public sphere, they could do worse than adopt the policy many of my female students appear to have taken up recently. That is, they dress in these frightfully practical black sheets so that you can only see their eyes. I sometimes wonder if there is always a woman under there. You know, it's not always clear by voice alone! Still, I get my job done without any stresses or hassles. Jolly good!'