His new colleagues wear tracksuits to work, and have whistles around their neck, W. says. He sees them doing star-jumps outside his window.
Why have they kept him on, now his college has closed down every humanities department? Why does he remain, the last humanities lecturer in a college of sport?
Ah, but he's really on a museum piece, W. says. Only a remnant of the old university college, before the transformation.
At least there are few postgraduates left, W. says. At least he has some allies. One day, they might make a last stand, W. says. One day – not far off – they will set fire to the new gym and set fire to the tennis courts.
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