Kebab Vans - The core of the Oxford Student experience
Created | Updated Jan 28, 2002
Oxford is a strange place. More academics per square meter than should be allowed, more students than possibly necessary, enough old buildings to give a Barratts executive a heart attack. Many things happen in Oxford, in the open, that could not survive underground in the real world. Bizzarre traditions. Voluntary deployment of tuxedoes. Rowing.
The thing that is likely to impress you most is the Kebab Van.
From 7pm until ridiculously late every decent sized street will have a Kebab Van, these provide food for all circumstances. If (rather when) you can't be bothered to cook yourself a proper meal, you visit a Kebab Van. If you forgot to shop and your bread has turned blue, you visit a Kebab Van. If you have been to a pub, a club, a late party, or a museum (well, I imagine so, I've never been to one), you go to a Kebab Van. They cater for everyone. The purist, who orders cheese and chips. The experimenter, brave enough to try the hummous and chips and discover they like it. The allergic-to-cheese-person (there must be a proper word for that), who has plain chips. The insane, who will actually eat a kebab. Whatever you eat, you will never taste anything better.
Kebab Van food has other magical properties. If you can't get the taste of Bacardi out of your mouth, a portion of cheese and chips will sort it. Despite having minimal nutritional value, hundreds of students survive on nothing else.
Somehow, the Kebab Van is confined to Oxford. The rest of the world does not know what it is missing.
The thing that is likely to impress you most is the Kebab Van.
From 7pm until ridiculously late every decent sized street will have a Kebab Van, these provide food for all circumstances. If (rather when) you can't be bothered to cook yourself a proper meal, you visit a Kebab Van. If you forgot to shop and your bread has turned blue, you visit a Kebab Van. If you have been to a pub, a club, a late party, or a museum (well, I imagine so, I've never been to one), you go to a Kebab Van. They cater for everyone. The purist, who orders cheese and chips. The experimenter, brave enough to try the hummous and chips and discover they like it. The allergic-to-cheese-person (there must be a proper word for that), who has plain chips. The insane, who will actually eat a kebab. Whatever you eat, you will never taste anything better.
Kebab Van food has other magical properties. If you can't get the taste of Bacardi out of your mouth, a portion of cheese and chips will sort it. Despite having minimal nutritional value, hundreds of students survive on nothing else.
Somehow, the Kebab Van is confined to Oxford. The rest of the world does not know what it is missing.
