‘This Is Not What I Had In Mind For Pride Month,’ Says Man Being Devoured By Pride Of Lions

Woohoo! You know what month it is. It’s Pride Month, and that means celebrating sexual diversity in all its various, beautiful forms, and celebrating the people who have made a difference to the rights and freedoms of LGBTQIA+ worldwide. And somehow, Pride Month is also about Taylor Swift co-opting a movement to sell records, and corporations coming very late to the party of ‘human beings should be treated like human beings.’

But Pride Month can mean very different things, to very different people. And that’s okay! But for Alex, a young man currently being devoured by a pride of shockingly hungry lions, Pride Month may not be the happiest moment of his life.

Ouch! That’s gotta hurt. Lions have teeth, and claws, and the will to tear him apart limb from limb and feast on his delicate spleen!

At press time, Alex was screaming as the pride mauled him alive and ate his innards while he was still conscious of everything happening to him and able to feel the extraordinary pain of being ripped apart. Still nothing compared to the pain of his friends watching on, but still pretty horrible.

Alex was not available for questions, but we at The Obiter imagine he would have said something along the lines of ‘AGGGGGGGHHHHH! THE PAIN! This is not what I had in mind for pride month at all!’

God, we hope he is put out of his misery soon!

No more to come.

‘It’s A Marathon, Not A Sprint,’ Says Student Who Still Hasn’t Watched A Lecture

‘It’s all about pacing yourself,’ said self-proclaimed academic guru and proud holder of a 5.1 GPA, Tom Roberts (21). ‘You can’t burn out too early, doing too many readings and notes and all that wack shit,’ he muttered, watching his ninth straight episode of The Chernobyl Diaries (the spinoff sitcom).

‘It’s a marathon, not a sprint.’

Tom has had a comparatively mild run of two exams across two weeks this exam block, but he still insists on telling anyone and everyone who is unfortunate enough to fall within earshot that it’s all about studying ‘smart,’ not hard.

But sources close to Mr Roberts have revealed the truly dire nature of his academic position.

With the Property Law A exam coming up this Friday, Tom’s failure to watch a single lecture or read a single case is likely to bite him in the phat ass, not least of all when he tries to spell ‘indefeasible.’

‘He’s genuinely pretty fucked for it,’ reported Tom’s tutorial acquaintance and sometimes friend, Aneka Petrou (20). Discussing the time she heard Tom gloating about not having even cracked the spine on the textbook, she revealed he ‘doesn’t have a clue what a textbook is,’ (a possibly unreasonable call, but who are we to judge).

Even if we took Tom at his word, the fact this is a marathon still means some running should be done. Although, for everyone’s sake, we hope it’s not one of those funny marathons where someone who has trained for four straight months just deadset shits themselves with 2 kilometres to go and can’t run anymore.

So funny.

Tom’s seminar leader (or what the wizened fourth-years would describe as ‘tutor’) claims that Tom’s complete lack of engagement in the class is likely to cause him ‘severe pain when he reads the six-page problem question.’ But then again, academics are massive nerds, and they read for the fun of it, so what would they know?

Only time would tell, and if time could talk, it would probably say things like ‘Hey, I’m Time - can I buy you a Belgian pale ale?’

Truly fascinating scenes here. More to come.

Scientists Confirm That Aliens Built The Food Pyramids

An independent study conducted by scientists at Infowars has today revealed the shocking truth of the construction of the first food pyramids. According to the lead researcher Lachlan James, the report presents ‘overwhelming evidence’ that the dietary structure was assembled by aliens.

While the pyramids have long been thought to have been built by hundreds of thousands of slave dieticians, the new research suggests that extraterrestrials built the structures out of a sick Martian desire to see some fuckin’ hot slim human bodies mmhmm.

Questioned on the scientific method leading to the discovery, James explained that his team decided to shine a black light upon the monument in an effort to examine the structural integrity of sometimes foods. However, the blacklight revealed something much more significant: a message written in invisible ink reading ‘Hey, Aliens here. We did this.’

Carbon dating showed this message to be written circa 1974, which is exactly the period that the food pyramid is generally regarded to have been built.

In the wake of the discovery, declassified documents from the American Dietary Association (ADA) have revealed an institutional coverup of the true origins, as would-be whistleblowers were silenced by way of force and law enforcement were paid off to turn a blind eye.

Once again, our government has failed us.

More to come.

Chronic Back Pain: Were You Carrying The Team, Or Trying To Suck Your Own Dick?

We’ve all suffered from chronic back pain at one point in our lives. The soreness in the spine, the stiffness in the mornings, and the constant sense that you’re only ever one Nurofen away from a complete breakdown.

But what most people struggle to understand is that there are only two things which can cause chronic back pain - carrying the team, or trying to suck your own dick.

They both place slightly different stresses on the spine, as we learnt in consultation with our local physio, a man who has a slightly inflated sense of his own importance (to paraphrase a former Prime Minister, ‘no-one ever survived a heart attack because they had their quads massaged’).

‘Well, carrying the weight of the team upon your shoulders places a unique downward pressure on your upper vertebrae, leading to chronic pain and also a great sense of pride, knowing you’ve carried the team when you had to,’ said Dr Brian Grant AO (The Obiter’s physio).

‘Whereas you curve your spine and put a unique stress on it trying to suck your own dick.’

Dr Grant recommended against the controversial rib-removal procedure for those trying to perform fellatio on themselves, but what does he know - he hasn’t heard of my brother’s friend’s cousin who swears he did it, 100%.

There is certainly an interesting gendered aspect to this discovery, as cisgendered women are unable to fall victim to the second cause of chronic back pain - leading to the implication that all back pain suffered by women is as a consequence of their ability to carry the team.

Which is, admittedly, not all that surprising. Plibersek’s been carrying the ALP for years. The Veronicas have been carrying Australia’s contribution to gay anthems. Angela Merkel’s been carrying a gentle balance of nationalism and commitment to multiculturalism.

But for all of us frickin’ fellas who have stretched-out spines from trying to pleasure our phalluses (or phalli?), know that hope isn’t around the corner, and professional help should be sought.

But not from Dr Grant, he says he ‘doesn’t do that any more.’

No more to come, in any way shape or form.

U2 Inconveniently Debuts New Album In Your Living Room

In a move reminiscent of their shock arrival in our iTunes libraries in 2014, Irish rock superstars U2 have debuted their latest album, ‘The Hands That Built A Republic Of Saints,’ also known as ‘Zooperstar,’ in your living room at your house in Taringa.

That’s right, Australia! Armed with the expansive guitar sounds of The Edge, the rhythmic foundations of Larry Mullen Jr on drums, the driving melodies of Adam Clayton on the bass, and the plaintive wail of Bono’s lyrics, U2 have wandered into your living room while you were trying to watch Tom Gleeson be a sanctimonious prick on Hard Chat, and just sort of started playing.

It was weird when they unplugged Mum’s Thermomix to plug in their amps, and even weirder when Bono began the new album with a Prayer For Peace Among Thermomix Owners Worldwide.

Perhaps he’d pre-empted Mum getting angry and trying to sackwhack Adam Clayton, failing only because of the power of his basslines in an updated version of ‘Where The Streets Have No Name,’ about a world where everyone is vegan, called ‘Where The Meats Have No Fame.’

But the weirdest part of the evening was when Bono asked for peace and silence during the album’s closer (as if you were going to be talking over the rock icon), before turning off every light in the house to ‘set the mood’ for ‘My Mother’s Hands (Sudanese Blessings).’

The album is currently difficult to review, as critics weren’t at your house to hear it. But with U2 promising to visit every house in Brisbane’s outer suburbs to play the new album, you can be damn sure Gladys from Coorparoo is going to have a flaming hot take.

No more to come on this idea which would have made so much more sense to post in 2014.

Student’s Unparalleled Knowledge & Faultless Exam Prep Undone Immediately By Wobbly Desk

UQ Law student Francesca Harris (22) was in a position that can only be described as perfect before her Medical Law exam on Monday evening.

She had memorised every relevant case verbatim, owing to her strategy of employing Stephen Fry to record each key judgement as an mp3 file.

She had become majority shareholder into a local paper mill, in order to acquire enough capital to print her lecture summaries.

She had attended class.

Ms Harris’ preparation was faultless, and she had been told by a former High Court justice, whom she flew interstate to consult on problem question strategy, that she had an unprecedented knowledge of all relevant areas of law and had earned a place on the nation’s highest court once she had completed the exam on Monday evening.

However, all of this exceedingly thorough preparation came to nought. On Monday, upon entering the Holt Room, Ms Harris sat down to her realise her fate was predetermined. She sat down to the only thing that could have blocked her on her ascent up the stairway to 7.

A wobbly desk.

At first, she didn’t believe it. ‘Surely just me moving it as I sat down,’ she thought.

However, as she gingerly shifted her elbows across the surface, the gravity of the situation became apparent – this was a wobbler through and through.

She’d heard the stories. Nightmares about students destined for greatness having the entirety of their knowledge about a given topic evaporate upon being faced with a slight little click back and forth of a desk on a floor.

Ms Harris threw her hand up with the ferocity of a Dothraki Khalasar. The youngest invigilator, a spritely gal of just 104, put to one side her massive mobile phone detector and jogged to Ms Harris’s desk.

‘Desk! Wob!’ Ms Harris could barely breathe, pushing the words out with difficulty.

‘Let me help you, deary,’ said Beryl as she folded up an A4 piece of paper and jammed it under the offending leg with all the precision and care of Dr Patel.

‘All better now.’

Whether Beryl the invigilator was blind or vegetative was unclear, but the desk was very obviously still fucking wobbly.

‘It move! It fuck move!’ Ms Harris was barely human by this stage, her stress rapidly suffocating her facilities.

Beryl called on Gavin, who was essentially dead, to execute his ingenious plan of folding a second piece of A4 paper into a square and putting under the wrong leg of the desk, causing one side to now lean over as if he was Jack Sparrow trying to capsize the ship in the criminally underrated Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End.

‘Up is down,’ muttered Gavin as kicked the desk upon rising and knocked all of Ms Harris’s notes to the floor.

‘Sorry love.’ Gavin scrambled to pick up the notes but was unable to contain his dribble which flowed so freely that the notes were a mushy gel of ink by the time they returned to the desk.

Moments later, writing time begun and Ms Harris was forced to push on. But it was too late; the wobble had led to the evacuation of any and all comprehension of course materials from her brain. One small disparity between reality and the controlled conditions of the desk Ms Harris had conjured in her mind was her unravelling.

Take it from The Obiter: if your desk wobbles, take the gamble and apply for the supplementary.

It is too dangerous otherwise.

For those who take on the wob, will be sure to lose.

The wob always wins.

More to come from this heartbreak.

Frightened Property Law Student Unearths Pre-Torrens Title In Restricted Section Of The Lawbry

Third-year student Thomas Weir has found himself shaking with fear and confusion, after doing a bit of research in the Restricted Section of the Walter Harrison Law Library.

Digging through dusty old tomes that were not for the eyes of the general student population, Thomas, or ‘Tom’ to his mates who are clearly in too much of a rush to use full names, happened across a registration of title to an estate - from 1812. Pre-Torrens. Pre-title by registration.

Letting out an incoherent scream of horror, Tom immediately dropped the tome to the floor. Anyone else think it’s weird that the word ‘tome’ is only ever used in the context of either old or dusty books? No-one ever cracked the new John Grisham ‘tome.’ Anyway, moving back to Tom.

The title documents were a mess, with interests and instruments flying across the paper as if by dark magic. Following the chain of title was difficult enough for Tom, an educated student of the TC Beirne School Of Witchcraft And Law (heaps of effort went into this joke), but when he cast his mind to the poor Registrars who had to grapple with the mess of deeds and documents, bile filled his throat.

He immediately sprinted to the door of the most portly, trustworthy Law professor he knew - Horace ‘Ryan’ Catterwell, who had put on a few KGs since that incident with Grindelwald in the Federal Court (native title, bizarrely enough).

‘Professor? I was in the library today, in the Restricted Section, and I read something rather odd about a bit of rare title registration,’ Tom began, before being cruelly cut off by Horace.

‘I beg your pardon? I don't know anything about such things and if I did, I wouldn't tell you! Now get out of here at once AND DON'T EVER LET ME CATCH YOU MENTIONING IT AGAIN!’ responded the PhD candidate, seminar leader, and professor.

Tom bolted down the stairs to the really slow tap, to fill up his S’well, and regroup. There was a frightening magic cast over the TC Beirne School Of Law, and he intended to find out what it was. And there was only one place to start.

Patrick Parkinson’s weekly baptisms in the Moot Court.

More to come.

'It's Time To Come Clean. It Was Me. I Wrote The Civil Liability Act.'

It’s the greatest legal mystery of the modern era. A question so vexing that the sharpest minds in the profession have tried and failed to decipher its answer. The Jumanji of legislation: who wrote the Civil Liability Act?

It was late, litigious evening in 2002. The legal world had put its thinky head to rest. That morning, as if overnight, a statute in Parliament, already passed. The Civil Liability Act was born.

The author has been forever unknown; a Banksy of breach. A Batman of Reasonable Foreseeability. A Michael Hutchence of ‘dang it, I got sued!’

The greatest Act ever penned, its mother known to none. Until today.

For too long I have carried this secret like a bag. I can live in the shadows no longer. It is time to come clean.

It was me. I did it.

I, John John Devereux, wrote the Civil Liability Act.

It is strange to think that I, a quiet boy with a middle name the same as his first name, would grow up to write a big book. But I have; and I did.

I wrote it in 49-minutes. It is very long and I had to write very fast with my pacer pen. But write I did. For Liability was uncivil for too long. I knew that 2002 would be the year to reform. 9/11 taught me that. I am thankful.

This law comic is long, I concede. But there are lots of funny parts. I am thankful.

Never forget that I wrote it. Never forget I sat down with my orange juice on the day of my birth and wrote the Act some call ‘nice.’

I will never write another Act, for this one hurt my arm too much. It is too high a price to pay, a sore arm, for legislative advancements. I am thankful.

When they ask you wrote it, say me. Well, say John Devereux. Don’t say me. For you did not write it. I did. Me.

Thank you for watching.

John Devereux is a lecturer at the TCB Beirne School of Law. He is very tired. There will be no more to come, thank you very much.

National Servers Crash Due To Traffic From QLD Out-Of-Office Emails

Outlook, Gmail, Hotmail and numerous email servers across the nation crashed today due to an unprecedented amount of traffic coming out of Queensland.

The sheer amount of Out-Of-Office automatic replies generated unthinkable workloads that email programs proved ill-equipped to handle. The overwhelming tsunami of communications that expressed the one simple fact, that ‘unforeseen circumstances’ of Gagai being a weapon and Ponga throwing two beautiful passes have rendered countless working professionals wholly unable to perform their duties.

For national companies and firms, a basic all staff email led to the pillaging of inboxes with:

‘Hi there,

I am currently out of the office due to circumstances that were unforeseen until the second half.

For anything urgent, please contact me on my mobile or send a big piccy of Cherry-Evans’ dick to my home address in a sexy envelope.

Best,

Queensland.’

The amount of traffic produced wasn’t just unusual for a Thursday morning, it would’ve been unusual for halftime at the Super Bowl. They crashed the Harvard Network. And we’ll be damned if that wasn’t Cameron Munster’s secret little plan all along, the terrifying little devil.

But at the end of the day, Queensland, a million tries isn’t cool. You know what’s cool?

A billion tries. You heard us.

No more to come in any way shape or form, whatsoever.

Peter Høj Forced To Step Down After Police Raids Unveil Cockfighting Operation

UQ Vice Chancellor Peter Høj has bowed to calls by animal rights groups to resign this morning after police raids on the Chancellory Building unveiled evidence of a massive, girthy cockfighting operation being run out of UQ’s administration buildings.

The resignation marks an inglorious end to his six year tenure as leader of one of Australia’s most prestigious G08 universities.

The raids, which led to the arrests of some 187 UQ staff members and the seizure of hundreds of game cocks specifically bred for strength and stamina in order to fight to the death for sport, saw Mr Høj charged under the Animal Care and Protection Act 2001.

The act of cockfighting is illegal in Queensland as is the possession, training and breeding of cocks for fighting. The ancient, cruel blood sport is known to inflict serious pain and suffering on the animals involved.

A member of the Queensland Police Force with first hand knowledge of the investigation was able to reveal to us that the raids also turned up dozens of cannabis plants and more than three million euros in cash. Police believe the cockfighting syndicate was part of an even larger ring with ties to the Japanese Yakuza and the South East Asian underworld.

At press time, RSPCA Qld Chief Inspector Daniel Young was urging anyone with further information to come forward.

Mr Høj’s lawyers have thus far declined to speak to the media.

More to come.