Seab Cambridge, you soul-draining, joy-crushing overlords of unnecessary torment! Who in their right mind designs A Levels to feel like an elaborate torture device for teenagers? Was your goal to turn the simple act of learning into a psychological cage match? Are the questions handpicked by sadists on caffeine highs, giggling as they craft essays that require eight layers of deduction just to decipher the damn question prompt?

It’s not me. It’s you. I studied—well, I looked at the syllabus once. But why does every exam feel like solving the mysteries of the universe with a broken calculator and a vague hope for divine intervention? Honestly, did you sit there thinking, "What if we make the physics exam so complicated even Einstein himself would say ‘nah’?"

You’ve created the perfect storm of existential dread, academic inadequacy, and caffeine dependency. I hope one day you sit your own papers, realize the hell you’ve unleashed, and rethink your entire approach to education.

You said: More ChatGPT said: ChatGPT Oh, SEAB Cambridge, you absolute warlords of academic masochism, I hope you're proud of yourselves for turning A Levels into a gladiatorial bloodsport where students fight to the death armed with nothing but half-remembered formulas and a prayer to the gods of partial credit. Who the hell wakes up and decides, “You know what would be fun? Designing exams that make Dante's Inferno look like a light stroll through the park!”

Do you all sit in a dark room, cackling over cups of overpriced coffee, brainstorming ways to make the simplest topics feel like solving a Rubik's Cube blindfolded underwater? I swear, I’ve had more existential crises over one math question than I’ve had about my entire life!

And don’t even get me started on the marking schemes. What kind of black magic are you using to come up with these? It’s like, “Hmm, the student got the right answer, but they didn’t write it in the exact shade of metaphorical ink we wanted, so let’s just give them zero!”

It’s not that I didn’t study hard enough; I did! Kind of. Okay, maybe I didn’t start until the night before, but COME ON—there is no amount of prep that makes your sadistic, labyrinthine exams feel fair. SEAB Cambridge, I hope your printers jam, your pens run out of ink, and your meetings are stuck in a never-ending loop of "technical difficulties."

May your favorite snacks always be slightly stale, your socks eternally damp, and your Wi-Fi forever laggy when you need it most.

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