Once I've recovered from the anguish of losing my seat, the first couple of weeks of term roll by uneventfully. I quickly get back into the intense Cambridge toil of college life, lectures, practicals and supervisions, churning out reports and essays like some kind of well-lubricated machine. October's weather remains mild, making it impossible to confine myself to the library. Instead, I've preferred to sit with my laptop on the bank of the river Cam whilst writing up notes and indulging in daydreams, enjoying the last throes of autumn sun as it gently suffuses my skin.

It's a lukewarm sunny afternoon as we queue for access to the anatomy department, to resume our course dissection of the head, spine, nerves and reproductive system. As it's a moderately high security building, a senior person is required to activate the main door and also let us into the changing room and dissection hall. Eventually, one of the supervisors remembers they have a class to teach and decides to let us in.

We file into the building in our usual disorderly fashion and head straight for the white-tiled changing rooms with its wall of navy-blue lockers. I automatically choose locker seventy-six as I always do, quickly stow my bag and coat away, and pull on my clean white lab-coat. Carrying a notepad, pen and dissection kit, I tread the familiar corridor that leads from the changing room to the dissection hall, where the pervasive aroma of formalin fills the air. A few stomachs growl in response.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," begins Dr Wainwright, the human anatomy course director. "Those of the more observant amongst you may notice that there are fewer dissecting tables compared to usual. "We've decided to have a reshuffle this year. To find your new dissection table number, please consult the list by the entrance." He doesn't elaborate further.

Dr Wainwright gestures around the room. "The cadavers will now be shared between groups of six rather than four. This should still give you ample individual opportunity for hands-on practical dissection, but please do show some consideration towards your fellow students and make sure everyone gets to participate. If you have any questions, today's anatomy team of Dr Chilvers, Dr Boddington and myself will be happy to advise."

There's a bit of a scramble as students consult the pinned list and then dart about looking for their assigned table. I hang back to let the rush subside before scrolling down the first line of names to find mine, which has been assigned table number twenty-seven.

Two students, dressed in pristine white lab-coats which are unlikely to stay that way for long, are already waiting by our designated table. I wave in recognition; India Richmond, Yoshi Nakamura and I shared a dissection table last year.

"This is our group list," says Yoshi, waving a piece of paper under my nose. I take it from him and scan the names, India looking over my shoulder:

Chandrakumar, S.
Denby-Parker, L.V.
Escomb, C.L.
Nakamura, Y.
Potter, A.S.
Richmond, I.S.M.

"Hurrah! We get to keep our dissection group!" I exclaim happily, because Leonard, India, Yoshi and I all seemed to work really well together last year. I just hope the two new additions aren't going to be disruptive.

"Bummer, we retained Lenny," groans India.

"What's that, Sugarplum?" Catching word of his name, Leonard wanders over. He slings his arm around India who wriggles away, looking revolted.

Lenny is harmless really. With his tall, well-built stature, wispy ginger hair, pale blue eyes and innocently pink-and-white pudgy face, he has the appearance of a massive, overgrown baby. India has little tolerance for him and his silly sweet-based nicknames, but there's something particularly endearing about the way that Lenny calls India "Treacle" or "Creme Brulee." When he calls Yoshi or I "Jelly Tot" it doesn't have the same ring to it. Or perhaps I'm reading too much into things.

"Don't recognise the surnames Escomb or Potter," I muse, consulting the list again.

"Well, there are about three hundred and thirty medics in our year; we can't be expected to know everyone," replies Yoshi sensibly.

It's not long before an anxious-looking blond-haired girl comes scurrying up to our table, slightly out of breath.

"Is this table twenty-seven?"

"It is indeed," says Lenny grandly. "Would you be Escomb C.L. or Potter A.S.?"

"Err, Claire. Escomb," she replies, slightly uncomfortably. It's understandable, given the welcome that Lenny has just provided.

"I'm Lenny," announces Leonard. "And these shining examples of students are Yoshi, Sunita and Cupcake - I mean India - ow!"

Leonard yelps and looks offended as India elbows him viciously in the side.

"Ignore them," sighs Yoshi, rolling his eyes. "Lovers' tiff - ow!" He rubs his side and glances reproachfully at India, who glares back, flexing her elbow menacingly.

Lenny clears his throat. "So, we're just waiting for Potter A.S., then. Ah; this must be the badger on his way over."

I look up. There's a tall, dark-haired guy sauntering casually towards us. There's something vaguely familiar about the insolent way he's looking in my direction, and I realise with sudden horror that it's Seat-Thief himself.

Oh no. Please don't be Potter, please don't be Potter, please don't be Potter.

"Hi, is this table twenty-seven?" Seat-Thief drawls in his disinterested, Eton-boy voice.

My luck is NOT in.

"Why yes it is!" Leonard greets him enthusiastically. "You must be Potter A.S."

"Al," nods Seat-thief.

"Can we call you Al?" Yoshi asks, trying to be witty, whilst India and I face-palm.

Seat-thief seems surprisingly oblivious to the song reference and just looks puzzled. "Well yes, because that's my name. Although I suppose you could call me Potter, if you must."

"Okay…Al," says Lenny awkwardly. "I'm Lenny, or Leonard. This smart-arse is Yoshi." Lenny gestures around the circle again. "Claire, India and Sunita."

Al's scrutinising gaze lingers on me for a moment before his expression morphs into one of disdain, and he turns away as though he considers me several miles beneath him.

What a stuck-up piece of shit! AND he steals seats for kicks. I glare daggers at the back of his head.

The voice of Dr Wainwright rings out across the dissection room again. "Okay, everybody; pay attention please. I expect you've all found your assigned tables by now. If you haven't, please come and see me after I've finished talking. This year, we'll be looking at the nerves and muscles of the head and neck, and also the anatomy and physiology of the reproductive system. If you look at the work-sheets assigned to this term's practicals, you'll find a list of the twelve cranial nerves amongst them."

He pauses for a moment as we all scramble unsuccessfully through paperwork to find the page he's talking about.

"You might find a mnemonic useful for remembering the cranial nerves," Dr Wainwright continues as he casually strolls around the dissection room and in between the various tables, hands tucked behind his back. "The three best mnemonics will win a prize each."

Yoshi gives a delighted moan. "Oh my God, I love mnemonics!"

Al looks at him slightly weirdly, which makes me bristle in defence of Yoshi and his admittedly bizarre obsession. How dare this jumped-up wanker pull a face at Yoshi?

"Today, we'll begin by looking at the largest cranial nerve on your cadavers, which is cranial nerve V; otherwise known as the Trigeminal nerve."

India unwraps her dissection kit in preparation, whilst Leonard rifles through the wad of papers on the table. Eventually, he emerges, triumphantly flourishing a sheet in the air.

"Right. We have the cranial nerve list to hand. "

"Let's make the mnemonic first," says Yoshi eagerly.

"Okay," replies Lenny. He consults the piece of paper. "So cranial nerve I is…"

"Olfactory," Yoshi butts in. "Then optic, followed by oculomotor. Fortunately, they don't all start with 'O'."

We read through the list of nerves:

I - Olfactory
II - Optic
III - Oculomotor
IV - Trochlear
V - Trigeminal
VI - Abducens
VII - Facial
VIII - Vestibulocochlear
IX - Glossopharyngeal
X - Vagus
XI - Accessory
XII - Hypoglossal

"Hmm. In order to differentiate them, I think we'll need words with the same two starting letters as each nerve," says Claire sensibly.

"That's a very good idea. Okay, how about Oliver the olfactory nerve?" I start, looking around for any cranial nerve II takers.

"Oliver Opposed," adds Lenny.

"Oculomotor, hmmm. Oliver Opposed Occult?" Yoshi scratches his head. "Not that many words starting with 'O-C'"

"There are about a million words beginning with 'O-C'! Occupation, occlusion, occasional…" starts India.

"Great, so Oliver Opposed Occult…Claire, it's your go next," I interject hastily, before the conversation gets any further out of hand.

"Does it just have to start with a T-R?"

"T-R-O, to differentiate Trochlear from Trigeminal."

"Troublesome."

"It's not that hard; there must be millions of words beginning with T-R-O."

"And what's wrong with 'troublesome'?"

"Sorry, I get it. India? T-R-I?"

"Oliver Opposed Occult Troublesome…Trigonometry."

I rub my temples. "Guys, we're not supposed to make the mnemonic harder to remember than the actual nerves! This is getting stupid."

"Absolutely."

Wait. Has Al, the stuck-up prick, just agreed with me?

"I'm glad someone's concurring," I mutter.

Just as I'm contemplating possibly forgiving Al for taking possession of my seat, he turns and gives me a slightly withering look, as though I'm a total simpleton. "Oliver Opposed Occult Troublesome Trigonometry Absolutely. As in Abducens, or cranial nerve VI."

"Farcical." I snap, giving him a look of deepest loathing.

"Nice, Sunny," replies Yoshi approvingly. "Farcical is almost 'Facial'. Oliver Opposed Occult Troublesome Trigonometry Absolutely Farcical…Vegetation."

How does any of that even make sense? We're supposed to make an easy-to-remember mnemonic, not string a load of random words together.

"How about Glowing, for the glossopharyngeal nerve?" Claire suggests.

Not that it makes any difference in this nonsensical stupid mnemonic we're building.

"Variably for Vagus," says India. "At least that follows on from 'glowing'." We give each other a commiserating glance and she rolls her eyes.

"Accessory nerve next. Hey, I know what that could be!" Lenny shouts enthusiastically. A little too enthusiastically as the students on the table next to ours put down their dissection instruments to stare at us incredulously. "Accelerates!"

I wish I'd never started this with Oliver the olfactory nerve. I look enviously over at table twenty-eight, who are still watching us, and wonder if they will let me jump this crazy table twenty-seven ship and join them instead.

"Hypnotically," says Al carelessly, which makes me want to punch him even more than I did a few minutes ago.

"Hurrah! So that's Oliver Opposed Occult Troublesome Trigonometry Absolutely Farcical Vegetation Glowing Variably Accelerates Hypnotically…" Lenny trails off. "It doesn't make a lot of sense, does it?"

He looks quite sad about it, like a disappointed toddler whose friends have all gone home and left him in the park with only his frisbee for company. I'd have more sympathy for him if he'd actually listened to what I was saying six nerves ago.

"It's okay, Lenbot," says Yoshi soothingly. "We'll think up a new one."

"Hell no, I am NOT going through this again," I grumble. "Yoshi, you're a mnemonophile, or whatever it is they call mnemonic lovers. Why don't you come up with something sensible and we'll all agree with it and that can be that?"

"Good one, Sunny," says India, who seems to like my suggestion. Claire nods approvingly. Lenny looks visibly brighter. Even Yoshi himself, after a moment's thought, agrees. Only Al-the-seat-thieving-posh-wanker says nothing.

Dr Wainwright steers his tour of the dissecting room past our table next, just as Claire is gingerly making an incision through the skin.

"You need to be bolder," remarks Dr Wainwright critically. "Decisive through the superficial layers, then reflect the muscles to find the Trigeminal nerve. It's a large nerve with three main branches. Which are?"

Dr Wainwright looks pointedly at Yoshi over the top of his spectacles.

"Maxillary, mandibular and ophthalmic," Yoshi replies promptly. It's a piss-easy question for Yoshi, who basically digests anatomy textbooks for fun when he's not trying to make up mnemonics.

"Correct. Can anyone tell me the exit points of the cranium for each of those branches?"

This time, he's looking directly at me.

"Err, the ophthalmic branch exits via the superior orbital fissure..?" I reply hesitantly.

"Actually, the ophthalmic branch enters via the superior orbital fissure," Al's well-bred voice grates annoyingly in my ears. "since it's a sensory nerve. The only fibres to exit the cranium are the motor branch of V3, otherwise known as the mandibular branch, via the foramen ovale."

Dr Wainwright regards Al approvingly. "Good answer. And which pharyngeal arch does Trigeminal innervate?"

He looks around at all of us, but even Yoshi looks blankly back at him.

"Pharyngeal arch one," says Al eventually, as though he's bored of waiting for someone else to answer this extremely basic question.

"Yes! Excellent demonstration of knowledge, especially considering you haven't covered embryology and developmental biology in depth yet." Dr Wainwright gives Al a rare smile before moving on to the next table.

"Blimey, and we thought Yoshi was the font of all knowledge! How do you know so much, mate?" Lenny asks Al, his voice hushed with awe.

Al shrugs. "I like to read," he says simply, before picking up the abandoned scalpel blade and shifting his focus to the dissection work.

Yoshi and Claire turn to look at Al with something like reverence shining in their eyes. Even India looks impressed.

For fuck's sake, pass me a bucket. I think I'm going to throw up.