THIS COLUMN is a naked abuse of editorial freedom, a clear conflict of interest and an unashamed exercise in self-promotion. But if I am to beat Boris Johnson, then I say, to hell with it, anything goes.

I am standing as a candidate for the rectorship of Edinburgh university, and just now Boris is the front-runner. His posters are everywhere, that foppish blond hair and self-deprecating grin stare out at you wherever you go around the campus. He’s been out clubbing with the students and had beer poured over his head, which must be worth a couple of hundred votes. He’s been on Have I Got News for You? and claims to be a Shadow spokesman for higher education. So I need to get my message out, using every means, fair or foul, at my disposal.

My pitch goes something like this. Students these days need all the help they can get. When I think back to the carefree, easy-going days I spent at university, it strikes me that modern undergraduates are on a permanent treadmill. Faced with tuition fees (in England) or graduate taxes (in Scotland), taking part-time jobs to support themselves, and subject to relentless exam pressure from the moment they arrive, it is hardly surprising that as many as one in ten drops out before completed degree courses. Top-up fees, introduced in England, have been resisted so far in Scotland, but may be creeping in via the back door, with medical students from south of the border being charged £1,500 more a year than their Scottish counterparts. As a consequence, the average graduate goes down from university clutching not just a hard-won degree but also debts as large as £15,000.

On top of all this, the insidious idea of student contracts appears to be gaining ground. As The Times reported yesterday, Oxford is proposing to introduce legally binding agreements that would require undergraduates to attend lectures and tutorials, complete written work and generally behave as if they were serious about their studies. It seems that, following the introduction of top-up fees, students have been getting more litigious, demanding value for money in the form of a good degree, and threatening to sue for compensation if they don’t get it. To protect itself, Oxford will insist on all students signing a contract “to pursue such studies as are required of you by any tutor, fellow or lecturer, or other person assigned by the College to teach you”.

Now I don’t know what Boris thinks of this, but I find the whole idea repellent. Universities are, or should be, places where the mind is allowed to broaden, the intellect to flower, and the soul is given room for manoeuvre. They are not places for box-ticking or benchmarking. The university that requires performance-related behaviour from its undergraduates is one that has already lost their trust.

And so, as your rectorial candidate (my notional address will say) I pledge myself to resist this creeping bureaucracy and ensure that Edinburgh remains a contract-free zone. The rector (a post unknown in England but as old as time in Scotland) is in a unique position to make the case. Because he (from William Gladstone in 1859 to Tam Dalyell in 2003, only one rector — Muriel Gray — has been a woman) represents not only the students but also the staff, and because he presides over the University Court, its governing body, he is well placed to monitor developments in higher education. At the slightest rustle of a contract I will gather up my robes and rise to protest.

I have, however, another pledge to make — and here, I think I am rather better placed than Boris. The Scottish Executive has set its face against top-up fees, a decision that I applaud. But it has yet to guarantee that it will produce the funding to bridge the gap and ensure that Edinburgh maintains its position as a world-class university, respected for the quality of its research as well as the standard of its teaching. I will buttonhole ministers at every opportunity to make the case for Edinburgh, because without the top-up income, and without any earmarked government money to compensate for it, the university could gradually find itself falling behind its rivals — particularly those in England.

I have underlined that last sentence, and am practising a Tony Blair-style “look, you guys, this is serious” expression to go with it. I have no intention of playing the Scottish card, of course, but it will not have escaped the electorate’s attention that Boris is, among other things, irredeemably English. This, and the fact that I live in Edinburgh, while he is usually in a television studio in London, should stand me in good stead.

I am, at this moment, undecided about whether my campaigning style should be modelled on that of Tony Blair or David Cameron, but I am beginning to feel that I cannot quite match Mr Blair’s mateyness, or Mr Cameron’s lop-sided grin. Instead I am warming to the idea of Kenneth Clarke, and have begun to down-grade my wardrobe.

I should add that there are two other runners in this race, but I consider them both single-issue candidates, and therefore not to be taken seriously. One is John Pilger, the left-wing polemicist, and the other is Mark Ballard, a Green member of the Scottish Parliament. That is probably most unfair on both of them, but since when did politics have anything to do with fairness? Meanwhile, you can find me at my campaign headquarters — the Blind Poet pub in West Nicolson Street — where pledges of support will be rewarded in the usual way. My website is magnus4rector.com. Vote for me. Or else you’ll get Boris.

Times Recommends

• It’s the beginning of the affair
• Afghanistan: still a price worth paying
• Heroes of the downtrodden