Imagine being so much of a loser that you get out a biro and write the word “winner” on your hand, in a desperate attempt to suppress the knowledge of just how how pathetic you are.  Imagine being so confused and distracted sexually that you consider watching your fave non-sexual  TV programmes – say, Holby City, or perhaps the footie – the perfect accompaniment to orgasm. Imagine taking a photo of a faceless woman giving you a blowjob and tweeting it to 23,000 laddish followers, just so they can raise a glass at your cock being sucked since that’s sure as hell not happening to them. Imagine then then following this up with random tweets offering “respect” to dead soldiers and kids in wheelchairs, just to demonstrate that deep down, you adhere to a mawkish, sentimental “I love ya, bro” code of ethics straight out of a Carlsberg ad. Imagine … Actually, I have no idea why I am asking you to imagine any of this. It’s bad enough that so many lonely male students apparently aspire to live it.

When I was at university, UniLAD did not exist. Back in the day, if you wanted a bit of fake-ironic sexism you had either to pay for it by buying Loaded or make your own. When studying for my masters I had the pleasure of sharing a house with a couple of lads – men? boys? – who were experts at the latter. Frank and Aaron divided female students into three types: slags (women who shagged other men but not them), prick teases (women who didn’t shag other men and refused to make exceptions for them) and lesbians (women in monogamous relationships with a partner of either sex, who did not however happen to be Frank or Aaron). For at least two terms, I managed to convince myself that this was all some weird, unfunny joke. I simply could not believe that these men – these graduate students! – possessed a hatred of women that I’d never witnessed before in any of the men with whom I’d grown up. They couldn’t possibly mean the things they said! But they never stopped saying them, so the sincerity or lack of it ceased to matter.

Frank and Aaron were not boorish Bullingdon-Club types. Like me they were state-school educated and came from the north of England. What’s more, they were really fucking chippy about it. Half-embarrassed that they’d ended up at Cambridge, they were desperate to prove how much they’d kept it real, pure Oxbridge Jennies from the block. You imagined them getting the shit kicked out of them whenever they went home for the holidays. You almost felt sorry for them, then they called you a slag and you totally lost the will.

I picture the UniLAD tweeters – who yesterday sent out the “wannabe winner having a BJ watching footie” pic – as mini Frank and Aarons, hiding behind a touchscreen (at least F and A would say things to your face). @UniLadMag – “Follow us for daily banter!” – also spent last Saturday offering the following gems:

Men who shave their armpits and legs probably shave their vaginas as well.

Any girls giving it shit about Fifa13, it’s essentially the tampon to our period.

Ladies, be ready. I’ll have ham and cheese #Fifa13 #Lads

RespectLAD [photo of man having a beer with his dead buddy in a military cemetary. Because he'd totally "respect" you back, you student knobs]

This kids parents built his Halloween costume around his wheelchair. Respect [cute photo of ice-cream van wheelchair outfit. That'll teach feminists such as @LUBOttom for trying to persuade people to actually sign petitions in support of people with disabilities despite the fact that they're not all fucking cute]

Shall I go on? Or is this just too utterly depressing for words?

UniLADs – we know it’s hard! You’re really fucking cringed about being huddled up in your room, panicking about finals when you could be out in Helmand Province getting your limbs blown off. You’re desperate to prove your manly Band of Brothers respect for others while simultaneously reminding us that you’re not fucking soft – after all, you fucking well hate women! So you’ve found a way of coping and you call your hate-filled missives “banter”. Well done you. Really well done. I wouldn’t say I’m impressed, but I appreciate the effort.

Now would you mind deleting those offensive, privacy-invading pictures and replacing them with something suitably mawkish and sentimental – perhaps a kitten in army combats? You could even scrawl “winner” on its name tag.