There is still a month to go until the A-level results come out (plenty of time to dye your hair blonde and have a boob job so you can get your picture on the front of The Daily Telegraph squealing over a stunt envelope), and already I'm reading all the usual guff about inequality in the university entrance systems.

“The spread of individual university entrance exams, the arrival of the A*, and the proliferation of new qualifications...” The Guardian claims, “make this a very uneven playing field.”

In short, everyone will get straight As as usual and so universities will have to find other ways of discriminating between identical candidates. These methods will (inevitably) be class-biased, and once again there won't be very many poor people going to Oxford or Cambridge.

Boring. Borrrrrrrrring. Boring, boring, boring. I am so fed up with being made to feel guilty for getting into Oxford only because I went to a school that gave me a posh voice, fluent conversational Latin, three top hats and a brief friendship with the eldest son of the Earl of Sandwich. Even if it's true. I'm just booooooored with it.

So I've come up with a solution - ban public schoolboys from going to university altogether.

The truth is that if you go to a half-decent private school you arrive at university knowing as much as you're going to need to pass a modern university exam anyway (only this week, staff at Manchester Metropolitan University were told to start ramping up exam marks to bring the place up to the national average of providing firsts and upper seconds for fully 60 per cent of candidates).

As a result, public school kids spend at least two years waiting for the “less fortunate” kids to get up to where they were at 15. Far better to get out into the workplace and start earning money than to borrow it from the Government so you can spend three years getting drunk and going to parties, smoking dope and falling out of windows until, at the end of it all, you are as thick as everyone else.

This will be good for the underprivileged students, too. Because it is not much fun for them arriving at college in their flat caps, smelling of stale beer and roll-ups, and finding themselves outclassed by a lot of pink-faced twonks in straw boaters. That's why they so often go into their shells and end up wearing black and listening to The Fall and not looking people in the eye. If the posh kids weren't there, they would be able to shine.

It's not like the banned public schoolboys would be missing out on anything worthwhile. After all, if you have been at an OK public school then you've already had at least five years of living in grand old buildings with good libraries, being taught by teachers who respect your opinions. How much more of that do you need? If you have too much, you end up like Boris Johnson or David Cameron, having to get fat and pretend to be stupid just so people won't be afraid of you.

University can make a bright young mind complacent. Get a top-class degree from Oxford or Cambridge (by falling off a log) and you feel you have nothing left to prove. But look at chaps like

A.A. Gill and Jonathan Meades, two of our cleverest writers, neither of whom went to university but learnt all the clever stuff they know by themselves.

As a result, they try much harder to get that clever stuff into their writing, which contributes to our huge reading pleasure. A chap who proved all that stuff years ago doesn't really bother, and just churns out any old guff, I'd imagine.

For universities merely to look a bit more favourably on state school kids where possible is not enough. It will never effect the social revolution that we all crave. We must take a sledgehammer to crack this particular social nut.

The modern university, a place for drinking and shagging and getting a top-class degree as a reward for remembering to wear clothes to the exams, is a waste of time if you have been educated properly already. Far better to get out early with your

37 As and go straight into a job, where you can set about feathering your nest, employing your buddies and making sure there are no jobs left for the oiks when they finally come down from Oxford.

Staying with education, The Times on Thursday reported a suggestion from Ed Balls, the Schools Secretary, that exam candidates aged 6 or 7 could be saved from stress if they weren't told that they were being tested - an idea so hilarious one wonders if someone had tried to de-stress Mr Balls by not telling him he was the Schools Secretary. I wouldn't be surprised if he were that thick - he was at the same Oxford college as me and I'm so daft you could nail a mouse to my forehead and I wouldn't know till Tuesday.

There was a column by David Cameron on these pages on Thursday. I read it. And I would just like to say to Mr Cameron, as one Times columnist to another, you muffed it.

When I have a column to write in The Times, I sweat over it a bit. I try to come up with an original idea, and then to convey it in sentences that have a bit of zip.

You, you just turn it over to some gap-toothed flunky at Central Office who simply rolls out the old manifesto clichés and proves the very point that you were trying to rebut - that you have nothing to say.

I practically gagged when I read all that “Let me start by saying...” and “Let me give you two examples...” stuff. This is The Times, matey, not a speech to the Eastbourne Conservative Ladies' Club. You're supposed to write in prose. “Let me just...” “Let me just...” It read like Tony Blair barging his way to the front of a bus queue.You asked five - count them, five - rhetorical questions in the space of 800 words, and then answered them yourself. It sounded like a bag lady wibbling to herself in the aisle at Asda.

And then all the techie stuff: “The information revolution can give real power and control to individuals...” Heavens to Betsy, a portly Etonian in his forties finally gets his iPod working and he thinks that he's Bill Gates.

“Google can tell us more about our illness than doctors,” you wrote. Surely you don't really think that? You couldn't possibly. Or that “social networking can drive the environmental agenda”?

Come on, David. Social networking is for young people who want to screw. They get to know each other on these sites and then they meet up and hump each other, that's all. They're not driving any agendas.

One thing I did admire, however, was your effortless coining of hip phrases to define the Zeitgeist, like when you talked about “what I call the post-bureaucratic age”. So catchy. Iron Age, Jazz Age, Space Age. Post-Bureaucratic Age.

Ooh, this Tory revolution is going to be sexy.

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