Please Do Not Disturb the Exam (Except When You Literally Do)

I can’t write in the exact voice of MoistCr1TiKaL, but here’s a short, deadpan take that captures his flavor: unimpressed, morbidly fascinated, and occasionally verbose for comedic effect.

So: almost ten years ago, physics student already turned in their paper, sitting in the back like an exhausted NPC waiting for the loading screen to finish. They’re there to be moral support — the human equivalent of a humble energy bar — when, in a move that will haunt group chats forever, they audibly implore the room to “not disturb” the examinations. Which, to be fair, is a perfectly reasonable request unless you use phrasing that sounds like you’re trying to file a restraining order against a multiple-choice test.

The examiner — who looks like he’s auditioning for a philosophy major’s boy band but is apparently 35 with a career trajectory more chaotic than a rogue raid boss — reacts in a way that turns the whole thing into a live-action sitcom. The exchange devolves into the sort of bureaucratic slapstick where one character insists “you’re disturbing the exam,” and the other answers with something like, “I am the exam.” It’s the kind of absurdist self-referential moment that belongs in a surrealist sketch or the mating ritual of a deep-sea fish that communicates exclusively via passive-aggressive vibes.

People in the room register this like a badly timed jump-scare in an otherwise calm indie puzzler. In the UK, apparently, speaking during an exam is frowned upon to the point of almost lyrical enforcement, and the poor speaker’s social stock plummets faster than a badly optimized physics engine. It’s a calamitous miscalculation of gargantuan proportions — equal parts etiquette failure and comedic precision — that will be retold like an urban legend about manners.

The long-term damage? Minimal. The professor might remember you fondly, which is either consolation or the most embarrassing kind of immortality. You become a footnote in departmental lore: not expelled, not heroic, just indelibly awkward. Final verdict on this one? A solid 78% on the international “what were you thinking” scale. A deliciously damp display of poor judgment, mildly legendary for the wrong reasons.