One-Night Stand Ruined By ‘On My Way On A Lime Scooter!’ Text

A young man’s dashing attempt to passionately consummate a Friday-night fling has been dashed on the rocks, after his overexcited, misguided text of ‘On my way on a Lime scooter!’ revealed him to be a massive, massive dork.

With his bulky white helmet on, and his white knuckles wrapped around the handle of a Lime S-1 Scooter, Commerce student Jack Cotterman (20) had a heart full of desire as he zipped along the streets of Brisbane at no more than the legally-mandated 27km/h. After all, he’d just received confirmation from a young lady that a hookup could be on the cards.

The young lady, who will remain nameless, wrote to Jack in a text stating ‘Come over now!’ It was if almost nothing could go wrong.

Buoyed by the opportunity to break a four-month dry spell, Jack left his mates straightaway upon receiving the text, and found the nearest Lime he could (which wasn’t very far away, seeing as they are an extremely convenient mode of transport).

And then, as if in Act III of a five-act Shakespearean epic, or about one-third into a 20-minute sitcom episode, disaster struck. Tragedy reared its ugly head. A complication arose.

Our intrepid hero made the most horrific mistake he could. Thinking it appropriate to inform the young lady of his immediate plans, he responded with, and we’re not making up how many exclamation marks there were, ‘Awesome!! On my way on a Lime scooter right now!!!!!!!!’

The silence from the other end of the phone was deafening. Four fateful minutes passed, Jack’s heart sinking as he gazed upon the complete absence of a reply. And then, a handful of dots indicated she was typing.

Maybe she would say ‘hurry up,’ or ‘that sounds great and environmentally conscious!’ But deep down, Jack knew his text was one of the most virginal things he could’ve said outside of ‘I love Rick & Morty!’

‘Actually, I’m tired. Gonna go to bed. Talk later.’

Boom. The Lime scooter screeched to a rapid halt, as did Jack’s inflamed libido. He’d blown it. For the third time this weekend. Trudging back to his mates on foot, Jack began to wonder how he’d spin this story to his ‘banter king’ friends. Ultimately, there he was little he could do, as the slings and arrows of outrageous banter began to rain upon his beleaguered shoulders.

Live long and prosper, mate. And next time, just get an Uber.

Midnight Mass Disaster! Priests Unable To Serve Blood Of Christ Due To Lockout Laws

The Queensland state government’s lockout laws have again come under fire, with the tough restrictions on the service of alcohol set to cause some serious issues at midnight Christmas mass.

Reverend Mark Tomlinson, of the St. Paul’s Coorparoo parish, was informed by police officers this morning that if he sought to serve wine at any midnight mass, he would be arrested and charged for contravening Queensland’s strict liquor laws. When the Reverend pointed out that he was technically serving the blood of Christ, rather than wine, the officers responded with a sharp ‘bullshit, mate.’

‘It’s wine, mate. And to be honest, if you were serving the blood of someone, that would arguably be a far bigger issue than contravening liquor laws. Let’s just pretend this conversation didn’t happen, alright?’

The decision, made by both the Queensland Police Service and the State Government, has drawn controversy for its ‘nanny-state’ approach to the religious celebrations that surround Christmas.

A parishioner in Redcliffe indicated her disappointment with the laws, suggesting she doesn’t see ‘...how this could impact on violence in the Valley precinct.’ With a typically blunt response, a Government spokesman suggested ‘clearly you’ve never faced the violence, the intoxication, the aggression of a pack of fifty-something churchgoers at 1am.’

When contacted for comment, the Pope has indicated that whilst he is disappointed churchgoers won’t be able to sip from the cup of Christ whilst celebrating his birth, at least they’ll be able to eat his body.

After making the above comment, Queensland Police burst in to arrest the ‘cannibal’ Pope Francis for the ‘relentless eating of bodies.’ At press time, he is still trying to inform the officers of the basic tenets of the Catholic faith.

Intriguingly, we imagine there will be lots more to come.

‘I Guess The Insolvency & Restructuring Team Isn’t That Similar To Suits,’ Thinks Disappointed Summer Clerk

Fifth-year Law student, Tyson Noble (22), was positive about spending his summer swapping the beach for the books, the sun for classy inter-office airconditioning, and beers with inappropriately intoxicated friends for beers with inappropriately intoxicated partners.

After all, Tyson was going to be working as a summer clerk for Brisbane firm, McHewitt Pearce Gordon, and it was going to be the summer he fulfilled his lifelong dream. The dream of inching ever closer to being literally Harvey Specter.

The debonair corporate lawyer at the heart of Suits has been Tyson’s role model since 2011, when Barney Stinson from How I Met Your Mother was relegated to second place. Specter’s intelligence, charm, and attitude have driven Tyson to pursue his corporate law career.

But after several days working with the Insolvency & Restructuring team of McHewitt Pearce Gordon, Tyson is beginning to think the work he is doing is slightly different to the sneaky deals of Harvey Specter.

‘Yeah, so today I had to go through some briefs to counsel and check for spelling errors. There weren’t any,’ said Tyson, a slight air of disappointment creeping through his normally infuriatingly positive tone.

‘Then I had to enter the details of our last six matters into a database. If I’m being honest, I don’t really remember Harvey having much, if anything, to do with database work. This is pretty cooked.’

At Friday night drinks, Tyson was hoping for debauchery on par with that of Suits. But three XXXX Summers and a house white was hardly going to be the recipe for Bacchanalian hedonism.

Home by 9.30pm, Tyson reportedly began to engage in self-reflection for the first time in his life.

‘Maybe… just maybe… this isn’t for me,’ he wondered, before dismissing that brief moment of self-doubt, firing up his MacBook, and engaging in a little bit of Suits, as an escape more than anything.

Little more to come.

Jock Sports Law Lecturer Sick Of All The ‘Nerds’ Doing The Course

Course co-ordinator and head lecturer of LAWS5225 (Sports Law), Brad McBranson, is apparently sick to death of all the ‘massive nerds’ doing his course.

With his tanned, oiled muscles rippling underneath a Cricket Australia singlet, his lips sucking down protein smoothies, Brad informed us that when he was approached by Dean Parkinson to teach Sports Law, he assumed it would have more to do on ‘the law of being an alpha dog at your rugby league club,’ and less to do with disciplinary tribunals and the arbitration of contractual disputes between professional athletes and administrative bodies.

As a consequence, the course is reportedly full of students who actually want to learn the complex legislation governing the relationship between intellectual property and the commercialisation of sport, as opposed to ‘roving packs of alphas… who sit up the back and talk during the lecture about Virat Kohli’s classy 61 not out in the Third T20.’

‘All the students actually sit up the front during the lectures! It’s bizarre,’ muttered Brad, his scrotum shrivelled from decades of steroid use.

‘When I was studying sports physiology, we sat so far at the back of the lecture, we weren’t even in the room anymore! It was like we were at the pub! Because we were! We went to the pub!’

Brad’s deranged ramblings can’t distract from the fact that Dean Parkinson’s hiring decisions have clearly plenty to be desired.

Whilst hiring a sparky to teach Construction Law was a surprising masterstroke, it was probably a bit iffy to hire Gerard Baden-Clay to teach Criminal Law B, and it was arguably a genuine shocker when a document with two signatures on it was instructed to teach Contracts A. Documents can’t talk!

Probably no more to come on this dumb idea.

Catholic Church Adopts A ‘No Dickheads’ Policy In Response To Royal Commission

In the wake of the Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse, a number of recommendations have been made to the Catholic Church, to ensure the horrors of the past are never repeated.

The Church has accepted some recommendations, and rejected others, but today, The Obiter can report the Church will be following in the footsteps of the New Zealand All Blacks, Sydney Swans, and optimistic U15 rugby league teams, by formally adopting a ‘No Dickheads’ policy.

A ‘No Dickheads’ policy has historically been used by sporting organizations to promote strong organisational culture and achieve triumphant on-field results. For the Vatican, it seems to hold the key to ensuring the priesthood will be field with nothing but honest, good blokes.

After all, it was Jesus who first said ‘Good blokes make good players,’ and ‘A team of champions will always lose to a champion team.’

Biblical academics often forget the Sermon on the Mount was largely dominated by sporting cliches, because whilst the meek might inherit the Earth, they should also be fully aware that the Romans can’t run without legs.

The ‘No Dickheads’ policy is expected to be rolled out in time for the 2019 confessional season, with a post-Christmas increase in sinning expected to test this new generation of good bloke priests.

Justin Langer, coach of the Australian national cricket team, has celebrated the move.

‘When you think about it, Catholicism was always about a no dickheads policy. Pontius Pilate? Classic dickhead.’

‘Although they need is some elite honesty, and to be selecting blokes on character, not cover drives, and the Church will be looking good!’

'I'm Going To Put Beer In My Cereal!' Says Schoolie Having The Loosest Time, Legit

‘Froot loops and Tooheys? Yeah, I’m an animal. What of it?’

A local ‘loose nut’ and Year 12 graduate, Nick Rawson (17), has today confirmed he is having the most insane, loose time at Schoolies, by informing The Obiter that this morning he filled his cereal bowl with beer - the milk of the Party Boy.

After several days of drinking, sleeping, and eating, Nick decided to take things to the next level. But after he finished punching holes in walls with his mates from St. Damian’s College, he realised he needed to step up his game.

Vomiting in sinks wasn’t going to cut it anymore. Nick needed to get the edge over the competition, to prove his credentials as the sickest fella on Cavill Ave.

An ice-cold can of Tooheys’ New, and a bowl of a cereal already lacking in dietary fibre and nutritional value, would be the tools this innovator would use to take his ‘pisscannon’ reputation up a notch.

‘Full-cream milk? For cowards. Skim milk? For cowards. In fact, if you’re eating cereal with anything other than a frothy one, or maybe even a Milton Mango, you’re a genuine coward, and you should be taken out the back and shot,’ said Nick, clearly tipsy from his three spoonfuls of fucking rank cereal.

As he grimaced and struggled his way through half the bowl, the frosty sweetness of the Loops combining awkwardly with the yeasty flair of the lager beer, his pained smiles provided enormous insight into the difficulties experienced by those who feel pressured to perform their masculinity in a hypermasculine environment.

But when he vomited a little bit back into the bowl, our sympathy largely flew out the window. This was a genuine dingus we were dealing with.

What could we do? Before our interview could continue, we were unceremoniously kicked out of Crown. Turns out you can’t be a twenty-something uni student and just hang around Schoolies in hope of a laugh for your satirical news page.

What a crock.

Weird Cousin’s Gritty 42* In Backyard Cricket Enough To Warrant Australian Selection

In these dire times for Australian cricket, coach Justin Langer and the national selectors have been looking for young, talented batsmen who can drag a flagging Australian side out of the quagmire of regular batting failures and collapses.

Sheffield Shield cricket, and the BBL, have long been considered the proving ground for young players. But backyard cricket now appears to be the hottest ticket for a way into the Test side, with a local ‘weird’ cousin’s classy innings of 42* warranting a Baggy Green cap.

Stevie Pearce (11), an odd little man who picks at his scabs and watched Law & Order: SVU when he was far too young, is as talented a cricketer as he is at making new friends, which is to say, not overly.

But for Justin Langer, Australian cricket in 2018 is not about talent - it’s about grit, it’s about heart, and it’s about the fact Stevie was able to last ninety-eight deliveries against 16-year-old cousins were bowling bouncers like they were going out of fashion.

‘Pretty hard to keep it cool when a red leather ball is flying at your skull,’ said Stevie, sucking down a Zooper Dooper midway through his brave, match-defining innings.

‘But it’s just like finding a magpie at the playground and kissing its feathers - second nature to me!’ the little guy chuckled, unaware of how shocked we were at that disturbing revelation.

Stevie’s battered Rebel Sport bat was a clear indicator of his ability to hang around and frustrate the bowlers, and the bruises on his body that day showed that he had the courage necessary to come out at No. 3 against India in December.

Apparently, he’s happy to forgo his match payment, as long as he’s allowed to have sausage rolls dipped in chocolate milk for lunch, a deal that Shane Warne is also reportedly trying to get in on.

When questioned about the interesting new selection, coach Langer suggested it was ‘time to look outside the typical paths to success.’

‘The backyards of Australia are a breeding ground for cricketing talent and intense psychological examination. Why we haven’t been looking here earlier is truly beyond me!’

More to come.

Opinion: Smartwatches Not Nearly As Cool As Spy Kids 2 Had Me Believe

The realities of the modern world make many early works of science fiction seem primitive. Yet fiction doesn’t always get it right, sometimes we dare to transform these crazy concepts into a reality but fall so desperately short that we are left wondering whether we should have even tried.

I’m talking in particular about smart watches.

The imagination of the entire world was captured when the much anticipated Spy Kids 2 leapt onto our screens in 2002. Critics were stunned, asking questions like ‘Who gave this movie the greenlight?’, ‘Will Danny Trejo’s career ever recover?’ or most importantly, ‘Dang, I wonder when we’ll be able to get our hands on one of those fancy watches!’

Oh boy, those watches were something. Total communications centre, those babies will give you everything you need, except tell the time.

What’s that I hear you ask, they won’t tell the time?

That’s right, not only were these watches cutting-edge, they were rebellious, sexy and left you wanting more.

You could take these bad boys tell hell and back, push them to their limits and all they’d ask is simply ‘Is that it? Is that all you’ve got?’

If only they had stayed in the realm of fiction. I cast my mind back to April 2014, sitting in-front of the TV with my Lite’N’Easy microwavable meal in my lap as I listened to Tim Cook unveil the Apple Watch. I trembled with excitement as I imagined myself, a real life action hero, ready to take on the world, augmented by the machine on my wrist.

Never have I felt more betrayed.

The disappointment that now hangs limply from my wrist is a far cry from the spy watch Machete (Danny Trejo) handed to Juni Cortez (Daryl Sabara). There are no holograms, no lasers, no sex appeal!. It actually tells the time, a sort of nerdy brother to its rebellious conceptual It tells me to stand up every hour (not very spy like) and I have to take it off during exams.

Perhaps none had higher hopes for the smart watch than Daryl Sabara. He dreamt of the day he could wield a smart watch as powerful as the one he helped bring to life in 2002. But alas there are no holograms, just a reminder to pick up more batteries for Meghan Trainor’s vibrator.

‘Still Haven’t Got My Public International Law Assignment Back’ Says Managing Partner Of Major Brisbane Firm

While the entire PIL cohort anxiously await the results from their 50% mid semester essay, interesting allegations from the profession have started to emerge. Reports indicate that lawyers who graduated over thirty years ago are still yet to receive their results and individual feedback.

In an interview, John McGrammar, a senior partner in a top tier firm confirmed that he gave up trying to contact the course coordinator about his essay over a decade ago.

‘They’re under a fair bit of pressure, these academics, it must be tough.’

Our reports indicate that public international lawyers are not bound by traditional deadlines due to a loophole. That they public international law is not in fact real law. Our field reporter caught up with Brian Lara (lecturer in Public International Law, no relation to the famous Test cricketer with a great average and an even greater smile) and Rain Liivoja who were enjoying appletinis in the pool bar at the Naviti Resort Fiji.

‘The thing that these students don’t understand is that it takes a substantial amount of time skim and moderate these essays,’ Brian Lara explained between sips of his creamy beverage.

‘Ya ya, you can’t rush these things, I’m still getting my head around opinio juris as it is,’ interjected Rain.

Conspiracy theorists have surfaced, claiming that the old assignments were never marked and Rain actually uses the paper as insulation in the walls of his house when it gets too warm and/or too cold.

‘At the end of the day, knowing your marks isn’t going to change how you perform on the exam so you can stop emailing me,’ added Rain.

Hopefully more to come - for the farmers’ sake.

POLS Student Who Discards Halloween As An ‘American Tradition’ Hasn't Taken Eyes Off CNN

Fascinating news coming out of the St Lucia campus today, as a man plays out his internal struggles between hating American traditions and loving American politics.

‘Ugh, Halloween is just so Americanized. So capitalist. We don’t need to inherit that bullshit, we’re our own country,’ stated David Saunders (18), a first-year Political Science student with seven Twitter followers, as his eyes remained glued to the CNN livestream on his laptop.

We spotted David in the Law Library, ostensibly studying for his POLS1301 exam later this week. But after closer examination at his laptop screen, it seemed he had nineteen different tabs open, all reporting on the state of the US midterm elections.

Hot takes from The New York Times, The Guardian, The Washington Post, Vox, Crooked Media, and Nate Silver’s Twitter have been all David can look at today, despite the fact he relentlessly dismisses Halloween as a ‘foolish American tradition’ that only ‘lazy Australians’ care about.

It was only last week when he claimed he was ‘happy’ he hadn’t been invited to any Halloween parties, seeing as they are a ‘shithouse tradition.’ Indeed, when a friend of his even dared suggest he should put out a bowl of Caramello Koals for any children who should walk by, he scoffed and stated he would ‘not be complicit in this country’s obesity crisis. Not now, not ever!’

It looks like David probably won’t address this hypocrisy, and spend the rest of the day rampantly obsessed with the minutiae of why Beto’s message failed in Waller County, and whether it was a mistake for Joe Donnelly to vote against Brett Kavanaugh.

Good luck, David.