UQLS In Crisis! Deputy President’s 42-Hour Sex Marathon Leaves Him In Critical Condition

A constitutional crisis faces the University of Queensland Law Society (UQLS), as the Deputy President, the constitutionally-mandated successor and advisor to the President, is in a critical condition at the Wesley Hospital after a 42-hour sex marathon.

The sex addict Deputy President Bretz has had a chequered history of being both a hot, sexy bloke, and grappling with sex addiction, but prior to now, his personal issues have had little to no impact on his role as Deputy. However, as he lies unconscious in his hospital bed, his muscular body rippling with power, the UQLS is faced with an unprecedented crisis.

The bylaws of the UQLS are detailed and well-drafted, but are tragically silent on the matter of a Deputy President being ruthlessly erotic, dripping with hot, sexy energy, to the point that he may be rendered unconscious or incapacitated for periods of 48 hours or greater in the wake of lengthy, passionate sex marathons.

It’s surprising that the Society never planned for such an eventuality, particularly given the Deputy President’s honesty and clarity on the campaign trail regarding the sex addiction, variably described as ‘awesome’ or ‘debilitating.’

The crisis will go to another level should the President herself fall ill, or be temporarily unable to perform the duties of President. Normally the Deputy President would assume the responsibilities of the role.

However, with Bretz himself incapacitated by a series of orgies across all suburbs of Brisbane, including Keperra, there is no-one to assume the responsibilities of President should crisis befall the Society.

One line of argument suggests a snap Deputy President election could be called among the serving Officers, although this threatens the democratic process.

However, the democratic process ultimately resulted in a deranged sex marathon enthusiast being elected Deputy, so there are question marks over whether that is a process that should be overly protected.

Ultimately, this is a question that should be resolved through community consultation - but as so many members of the community have been touched by the Deputy President’s deft sensuality and respectful erotic attitudes, finding objective members may be difficult!

Auchenflower Quietly Smug Something Exciting Is Happening

An emergency declaration has been issued by Queensland Police this afternoon after two gunmen holed themselves up in an Auchenflower apartment, sparking a standoff with law enforcement officials.

Auchenflower residents have described the situation as, ‘intense, scary, and to be honest a little bit cool.’

“We hope and pray that no one is hurt,” local man Arnie West told The Obiter. ‘At the same time, people in Milton can eat a dick. Ooooh you’ve got your cute little stadium? We’ve got the fucking sequel to Heat going on over here. Grow up.’

Despite the seriousness of the event, Auchenflower residents were displaying a smug superiority in their suburb’s Facebook group ‘WATCH IT, I’M AUCHEN HERE!”

‘We know this is dangerous,’ an account operating under the alias of Christopher Auchenflower posted in the group at 2:15pm. ‘But fuck, got to admit it’s a little cool that our suburb is on the news. This is better than when the plans for a Grill’d were leaked.’ When a commenter pointed out that the Grill’d is technically in Rosalie, the commenter was immediately removed from the group.

As the situation unfolds, Auchenflower residents are hopeful that the standoff is resolved peacefully and quickly. But not too quickly. Maybe around 8:30/9. Enough time that future screenwriters will have ample material from which to write a 3-part miniseries for Channel 7.

‘I want to be played by Gyton Grantley,’ said the butt ugly local butcher who most definitely will be played by Kochie.

More to come.

Crown Lager Comes Out Of Hiding For Christmas Barbecue Season

‘Is… is anyone there?’ whispered Crown Lager, crawling out of the hole of mediocre beer, just in time for Christmas barbecue season.

‘It’s us. We’re back. And we need you,’ responded the Dads of Australia, sick of James Squire and Corona, and looking for a lager that is a status symbol as much as it is a yeasty, dry drop.

With welcome, beckoning arms, Australians across the country have brought Crown Lager back into their lives, as the season of sweltering heat, overcooked steaks, and aggressive backyard cricket officially began this past weeked (the first of December). Whilst the summer barbecue is ostensibly a relaxing, recreational activity, it takes a physical toll, with the heat and exertion of turning seventeen sausages, and then placing them into bread.

And that’s where Crown Lager steps in. Ignored for most of the year by really just the vast majority of the country, its weird blend of classiness but also just being a normal lager really seems to come into its own in summer.

As bin Laden was in hiding for years, Crown Lager has been in hiding for months. But battered and bruised, unburdened by barely any attention, it is ready to take center stage for seven weeks. Favourites might be the thing you bring when you’re told not to bring a thing, but Crown is certainly the six-pack you bring when you think ‘Fuck it, I don’t want to draw any attention to myself whatsoever.’

I’d love a Furphy though, now that you’re asking.

This article was sponsored by the Australian Union for ASMR Performers. Don’t ask us why they wanted to sponsor a pretty mediocre beer article, we are as confused as you, if not more.

‘Now I Know What A Bushfire Is Like!’ Thinks Office Worker Outside In 31-Degree Heat

‘Frick me sideways!’ thought Daniel Godfrey, a 26-year old graduate lawyer at McHewitt Pearce Gordon, as he stepped outside of his beautifully air-conditioned Eagle St offices, and into the hellish, oppressive 31-degree heat.

As a fairly hot wind blew, slapping Daniel’s sweaty Oxford shirt across his flabby body, sapping Daniel’s already-sapped strength and willpower, he had a fairly profound realisation.

‘My god - this must be exactly what a bushfire feels like. Gee frickin’ whiz, it’s a stinker out here!’

With a leap in logic largely unmatched throughout history, Daniel has extended his experience of feeling a bit toasty at 1.15pm in Brisbane’s CBD to being caught in the midst of a roaring, horrifying, swirling blaze of fire, ash, and smoke.

Whilst conditions can certainly be uncomfortable on a hot day in the city, Daniel enjoys two advantages over those caught in a genuine bushfire - (1) he can always head back inside to enjoy the cool, refreshing air-conditioning, and (2) his flesh isn’t burning alive.

With Daniel’s usual coffee place a scorching 450m away, the kiosk outside his office will have to do. And with the sweltering, sweaty blueberry muffins offered by the kiosk looking more and more unappetising by the minute, lunch will have to be a hasty apple consumed in the comfort of the office.

After the trials and tribulations of waiting for a flat white in 31-degree, sometimes-30-degree heat, Daniel will reportedly head back inside to sip on it, before exclaiming ‘Frickin’ fuck! That’s too hot!’ and wondering whether the slightly burnt roof of his mouth is remotely similar to what it feels like to be in a bushfire.

Interesting scenes. Doubtful there will be more to come, but you never know.

‘Punch Their Batsmen In The Dick To Show Dominance!’ Inside Michael Clarke’s Bizarre Idea Of The ‘Australian Way’

The public media feud between ex-Australian Test cricket captain, Michael Clarke, and Australian sports journalist, has illuminated many as to the nature of Clarke’s views on the ‘Australian Way,’ and the manner in which the Australian Test team should conduct themselves.

But a series of Tweets and public comments can hardly substitute for an in-depth understanding of Michael Clarke’s view of what constitutes the Australian Way of existing, breathing, and playing cricket. So with the help of The Obiter’s investigative department, we have dived deep inside Michael Clarke’s mind, by way of an extensive interview, to glean a deeper understanding of his unique philosophy.

The interview below has been paraphrased for brevity. Clarke’s longer ramblings, and more deranged rants have been edited extensively, in both the interests of retaining a younger audience who should not be exposed to such filth, and also in the interests of protecting the reputation of one of Australia’s premier cricketers.

OB: So, Michael-

MC: It’s Pup.

OB: (chuckles) I mean, Pup.

MC: Thanks for getting it right. You have no idea the amount of pressure I’m under at home.

OB: ...To be called Pup?

MC: Bang on the money, skip.

Clarke then shot finger guns at the interviewer for at least three to four minutes by our count, or at the very least, until it became enduringly awkward to witness.

OB: You’ve been quite outspoken by suggesting the culture of the Australian cricket team has become too ‘weak,’ and ‘soft.’

MC: You’re forgetting ‘fucking cowardly.’

OB: We were going to get to that, Pup, but yes, ‘fucking cowardly’ has been among your comments. Now, clearly your conception of the Australian Way of playing Test cricket is built on the tough approaches of previous captains, your Waughs, Pontings, Borders, etc, but is there anything to your approach that you would consider unique?

MC: Of course. My view is that by being friendly and weak, you invite them into your house - and once they’re in your house, it’s hard to get them out. Be tough. Don’t let them inside. It actually helps to imagine your opponents as vampires!

OB: Right, right, but with respect to something like sledging, is there--

MC: And I don’t mean vampires like the Count from Sesame Street - he’s just a humble mathematician with an accent and bad teeth. I mean vampires like Edward from Twilight, or whoever Hugh Jackman was hunting in his undisputed masterpiece, Van Helsing!

OB: We appreciate the clarification, Pup, but getting back to your views regarding aggression in the modern game-

MC: Punch them in the dick.

OB: S-sorry?

MC: You heard me. Punch their batsmen in the dick. I’m not kidding. We did it all the time during the Ashes. The camera angles can be extremely deceptive, but in any period of dominance the Australian team has had, it’s been down to dickpunching - or ‘shaft-hitting,’ as Mitch Johnson used to call it.

OB: So, it’s not about bowling fast, or setting aggressive fields, or anything like that?

MC: Never. What Tim Paine is forgetting is that a clever, fast bowling group, and gritty batsmen, won’t win you games. You need to punch their batsmen in the dick. It’s the Australian Way.

OB: You mention the Australian Way again, Michael, and we’re just wondering if there’s anything more to it than ‘shaft-hitting’?

MC: It’s Pup. P-U-P. Rhymes with CUP.

OB: Does it rhyme with ICUP?

MC: Yeah, I reckon it might do.

OB: Could you spell ICUP for us?

MC: Of course I can mate, I graduated Year 12 and have a Bachelor’s in being fucking alpha, I reckon I can spell that. I… C…. U…. P.

OB: How are you seeing me pee, mate, I’m not even peeing!

Tense silence.

MC: How could you do this to me?

OB: Dunno, mate. You never tried the ICUP sledge?

MC: Not at all, we just stuck to-

OB: Punching them in the penis, yeah, we all understand. Any more insights to offer, Pup, or are we able to end this now?

MC: Happy to leave it here.

OB: As are we.

What followed was a surprisingly spirited game of backyard cricket with the former Captain, and whilst he certainly tried to punch The Obiter XI in the genitals more often than not, it didn’t distract from the friendly and enthusiastic nature of the match played.

Probably some more to come.

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!’