Dear Sallie...

Dear Sallie,

I’ve fallen in love. Madly in love. The problem is, he doesn’t know who I am and he probably never will. That’s right, I’m in love with young Wills from The Crown. I slid into his DMs but he hasn’t even read it. I just can’t stop thinking about him long enough to focus on anything… and my dissertation is due. Nightmare!

Wanna-Be-With-Wills-Wendy

Dear Wendy,

Sallie has taken a MUCH needed holiday and is living it up in the sensual paradise that is the top floor of the Main Library, so you’re stuck with me this week — her PA, Sandra (you can call me Sandy).

I’m completely sympathetic to the plight of a The Crown crush—I may as well be called Sandy Sub in my need for a Dom(inic West). But while your freshers flu has turned into a fever for fair Wills, ask yourself: have you fallen prey to the glitz and glam of countless rental trucks and an Italy-ified Northpoint? Did the complete closure of North Street leave you locked in your room for days on end with nothing to think about but Wills, leading to a stockholm-syndrome like development of a massive crush? You are a captive of the crown, Wendy!

Because I didn’t know the name of the actor who plays our ‘beloved’ Wills, and let’s be honest, who does, I took to a cheeky google search. Upon closer inspection of Ed McVey’s instagram (@ed_mcvey_ for anyone curious — but he couldn’t even get @edmcvey?), we discover that he has: 3860 followers, 6 posts, and an article linked in his bio announcing his casting in The Crown—a shameless self promotion. While there’s no denying that Mr McVey bears a striking resemblance to the man, the myth, the Prince of Wales himself, you’ve got to remember Wendy that he isn’t actually a prince. Yes, that fateful blonde hair/ blue eyed combo might be particularly dreamy but he won’t be whisking you away for private romantic weekends at Tam-Na-Ghar, or casually proposing with one of the most famous rings in the world, and anyway, I’m pretty sure he’s gone for good.

The fact that McVey’s instagram is as happening as 601’s ceiling and he hasn’t responded should tell you everything you need to know: the thing about Wills? He won’t.

But your dissertation is forever. End your nightmare and WAKE UP. It barely takes two decades for his hairline to recede, your marriage to dissolve, and for your dearest crush to be getting Thatchered (think nicknames for Margaret, and I’m not talking about Maggie).

In the meantime, I suggest you develop an equally unrealistic crush on your local barista, spend copious amounts of time and money in the hopes they’ll notice you, and use the excess caffeine for fuelling your dissertation.

All my love,

Sandy x

Illustration: Kate Lau