A good question indeed. What they're doing there we're not quite sure, but these are the people living in your fridge, eating your food, turning out the light when you shut the door. If they're in a good mood they might warn you about food about to expire - if not they might just eat you out of house and home (or at least out of "fridge".) Such is the life of a student.
We asked one of the fridge inhabitants, Duncan, for an interview to discuss the finer points of living inside someone else's well stocked fridge. What follows is the actual heavily edited transcript of that interview. (Some sections may be heavily doctored or made up at time of publication.)
Interviewer: So, Duncan, thanks for coming to the interview.
Duncan: Thanks, good to be here.
Interviewer: I think I should start by asking on behalf of our readers exactly what twisted and messed up world you people are all from. Especially you, I mean, you write most of that Demented Student stuff don't you?
Duncan: Yes, I do a considerable chunk of the writing I suppose. As for what's wrong with us, I think partly its and enditement of modern society and partly it's the fault of a system which has tried to mould us so cleverly into a role we were never sure we wanted to play. I realise that "they" were trying to help but I really don't understand why we can't all just be left in peace to muddle through on our own. I mean, look at the Romans.
Interviewer: Yes, quite. But tell me, what possessed you to move into someone's fridge. Was there any resistance to this move?
Duncan: Well, mainly it was the rent situation, it actually works out quite economically to share a fridge with 3 people. As for it being someone elses, that generally keeps it well stocked with food, and if we only take little bites out of things people don't really notice. There was initially some resistance from the fridge owner, but after we beat him with sticks a couple of times he stopped complaining. He doesn't even come near the fridge so much any more.
Interviewer: So, tell me a little about the other members of your troupe. Peter Cartwright, he's newly Demented isn't he?
Duncan: Yes, that's right. In fact it was only really when we convinced him to come back in time with us the other day that he really became "one of us." Before that we were only really living in the same fridge, and didn't have much else in common. He's a good bloke - he says he's living in the fridge as training before he makes his permanent move to Siberia - apparently he's a mail order bride for some wealthy lady living over there.
Interviewer: And what about that godfather of mirth, Hash?
Duncan: Hash keeps himself pretty much to himself. Most of the time he's hiding behind the frozen pizzas, I expect he likes to watch things defrost. I'm not sure but I saw him with a couple of frozen peas the other day, trying to teach them to do tricks. Maybe he's trying to raise an army of cryogenically stored super soldiers. He might just be a bit odd the head though - it's so difficult to tell sometimes.
Interviewer: Do you thinks that's pretty much the case with all of your group? Are you all just a bit "odd in the head"?
Duncan: Difficult to say. I'd probably have to guess as much, but for each of us it's slightly different. In Hash's case I think it might just be a mild form of paranoid multiple delusions combined with urges to indulge in roleplaying games. In Pete's case it's a more dangerous case of pedantic misgivings disorder.
Interviewer: And Jake Roberts?
Duncan: Well, Jake's different. He's not so much demented in a primary sense, more in the sense that he's easily led to do strange things and easily disturbed when he actually does them - a two edged sword that has pretty much kept him mad ever since we've known him. That and the nutmeg we keep feeding him make his nice and manipulatable. If that's a real word.
Interviewer: And yourself, do you consider yourself mad in any way?
Duncan: No comment.
At this point the interview came to an abrupt halt as Duncan realised he was interviewing himself and that it seemed rather silly. In a fit of anger at himself he saved the page and uploaded it onto the internet for everyone to see how foolish he was. Something like that anyway. I'm not even sure if I can keep up this constant typing in the third person any more. Who is the third person anyway, and how did I get "in" them? And is she cute?