Depressed Revue Writers Sheepishly Show Up At Obiter Offices As If They Never Left

‘Morning guys, anyone got any article ideas?’

The downtrodden and depressed writers and actors of last week’s Law Revue have sheepishly snuck their way back into The Obiter’s offices at Herston this morning.

‘Did we miss much?’ Lachlan Glaves muttered, his eyes darting towards the floor as staff looked up in fury from their bullpens.

‘Sorry team, got a little caught up with the show hey,’ Henry Bretz said while making a cup of English Breakfast in the kitchen, prompting Drew Pavlov to lob a dim sim at his head.

Michael Fielding, the man credited by shareholders with guiding the publication through this dark time, was seen admonishing Jack Hardy over the phone, after learning he was headed to Dublin to join Editor Joe Dwyer on his ‘research conference.’

Samantha Haran uncomfortably offered the returning writers a tissue as they wept uncontrollably at their desks at the concept of writing something that didn’t require a costume team of four to make happen.

Inside reports they barely had the energy to pitch a half-hearted article about being hungover in a Monday lecture, or bumping into your ex-girlfriend at Ric’s, or ‘something.’ 

The dejected, inconsolable thespians were seen reciting their favourite sketch lines to each other next to the printer at press time.

No more to come.

Australian Travels Halfway Across World To Meet Other Australians In Hostels

‘Haha, I’ve never met anyone from Adelaide before. Travel is so eye-opening.’

The life-changing, spirit-affirming experience of travel is a privilege known to many Australians, as the bi-annual summer (or winter) exodus brings countless convicts to the shores of Europe for a bout of cultural exchange, soul-searching, and vomiting in Prague’s weirdly quiet alleyways. 

However, the main focus of Australians overseas does seem to be the absolute game-changing experience that can be meeting other Australians in hostels - and for those lucky travelers ready to take risks, those ‘other Australians’ may well be from different states. Whomst would’ve thought it - you’re in Berlin, having a beer, with a guy from Perth? It just doesn’t happen!

Crazy!

Zany coincidences aside, this powerful act of immersion can be cathartic for many Australians who have only ever bene on holiday to that classic trio of Australian East Coast destinations - Noosa, Byron Bay, and Bali, which is a country that, let’s face it, we should fucking annexe at this point. 

I mean, Hitler saw a couple of Germans in Austria and thought it high time for the Anschluss, yet we see half our country pissed on the beach in Bali and we’re not immediately thinking annexation? Come on, Australia. If you’re the Great Southern Land, why aren’t you more ready to deadset, and we’re not fucking around here, annexe Bali?

We digress.

For gutsy young backpackers like Melbourne’s very own Ben Gutson (20), the experience of being in foreign countries whilst meeting Australians from such diverse cities as Brisbane, Sydney, and Brisbane, is a blessing known to the chosen few.

‘I guess I’m just ready to seize these opportunities with two hands, particularly if those two hands are Australian! Haha, just pulling your dick chain, cobber,’ said Ben, weirdly employing a brand of Australian slang that we are cosmically unfamiliar with, perhaps in a cripplingly strange bonding attempt. Freak.

But for blokes like Ben, desperate to meet other Aussies overseas, never fear. There’s always Budapest.

No more to come on this idea that’s really similar to a few we’ve published over the last few days, which may fairly give the impression that we’re making a lot of jokes about one very specific concept these days.

‘Save Money By Cooking In A Hostel Kitchen!’ Says Man About To Drop $300 In Barcelona’s Shittest Nightclub

A budding Barefoot Investor has just deployed his greatest money-saving tip, by wisely choosing to forgo a selection of Barcelona’s finest foods in favour of a depressingly simple ‘pasta with sausages’ meal at his hostel.

However, unfortunately for this sage repository of financial wisdom, he’s about to undo all his good work by blowing $300 on a dull night in Barcelona’s shittest nightclub.

For as much as not buying dinner has saved Travis Leech (21) a couple of dollars, his complete lack of impulse control has led him down a path where he could quite realistically return to Australia with no money, and as a fourth-year uni student with an active social life based around his group chat of school mates (entitled ‘Squad’), this simply won’t do.

But as much as ‘Trav’ consciously knows money is tight, he can’t help himself when invited to a pub crawl culminating in a trip to ‘The Temple,’ a touristy hotspot in Barcelona famous for its ten-euro beers, and complete lack of dignity. 

So despite chowing down on about two kilograms of carbs, satisfied by both the simple meal he’s created in the trusty hostel kitchen, and the sense of accomplishment from not having spent hard-earned dosh on dinner, it looks like Trav is in a situation of absolute loss here.

You hate to see it to one of the greats. You particularly hate to see one of the greats realise it at 2.30am, jaw in Portugal, wallet feeling lighter than it has in weeks, and liver currently suffering the worst impacts of Travis’ utterly atrocious spending spree.

Live long and prosper, Mr Leech, although we have our doubts on both of those fronts.

No more to come.

ICC Refuse To Revoke Their Affirmative Action Policy Of Hiring Blind Umpires

In a brave decision, the International Cricket Council (ICC), the governing body for cricket/puppet entity of India, Australia, and England, have held firm on their affirmative action umpiring policy. 

Completely blind umpire Joel Wilson reportedly has the ‘full and unquestioning’ support of the ICC, despite missing an absolute stone-cold LBW on Sunday night in the third Ashes Test at Headingley, Leeds. 

In what is being hailed as a ‘triumphant win’ for blind advocates, as well as the English cricket team, the ICC has refused to hear evidence of the fact that Wilson missing the LBW decision irrevocably suggests he is unfit to umpire at Test level.

There are also concerns over Wilson’s hearing, as several missed decisions early in the Test match had to be reviewed. However, at present, the ICC does not have an official statement of support for deaf umpires, so that element remains to be seen.

Regardless, Ben Stokes’ Headingley heroics will go down in history, but the real heroes are the brave umpires who persist with their job, entirely premised on sight and sound, despite being largely unable to experience either. Some have criticised Wilson’s decisionmaking as ‘ridiculous,’ but it is simply the story of a man trying his best.

So we apply the blind beauty Joel Wilson, and wish him all the best for the future. Maybe next innings he’ll finally find some sort of inner sight, and give all ten English wickets out pitching outside leg and going over the top.

Who umpires the umpires?

More to come on this developing story.

Hostel Girl With Map Of The World Tattoo Is Clearly Not Here On A Fucking Holiday, Thanks

‘Holidaying? Never heard of it, mate. I’m a global nomad.’

Holding court in the shared kitchen of Amsterdam’s nineteenth-best hostel (ranked in terms of cleanliness, atmosphere, and how likely it is that the bloke in the bed below you is clearly having a wank), British backpacker Amanda Vassey (23) is making sure everyone is well aware of her philosophy and approach to life.

As people just try to make their pesto pasta and be on their way, Amanda is making it abundantly clear that she is not mistaken for a ‘tourist’ on ‘holiday.’ And she’s got the ink to prove it.

Rolling up the sleeve of her shirt that’s been washed twice in two months, she proudly displays her map of the world tattoo to the room at large, the different colours punctuating the pale skin that is a classic hallmark of a life spent under the ‘scorching’ British sun.

‘See? Now, tell me what fucking tourist would have a tattoo like that. Name one. Seriously. You can’t.’

Whilst not getting a lot of engagement from other hostel guests, most of whom are more concerned about how far fourteen euros can stretch them over the next five days, Amanda is happy to press on, monologuing to thin air moreso than Macbeth when he started getting all suspicious and shit in Macbeth (we haven’t seen it for a while).

‘Each country I visit, I get another part of the tattoo coloured in. It really reminds me to stay grounded, and remember that we’re all a connected part of this connected world.’

Despite the fact she’s happy to declare she ‘stays grounded’ as a result of the tattoo, weekly transfers of $400AUD from Mum and Dad at home have certainly helped.

More to come from this fascinating, worldbeating figure.

Obiter Writers Finally Break Silence On Hong Kong Protests: 'We Still Don't Know Where Hong Kong Is'

Amidst the storms of controversy over the Hong Kong protests on the UQ campus, media outlets have been tripping over themselves to find a scorching hot take on the simple story of a group of students protesting an oppressive regime. 

Local ruffian, rascal, and Mandela-esque figure, Drew Pavlou, has even found himself invited into the welcoming arms of Andrew Bolt, and the less welcoming arms of Tony Jones, as media organisations wake up to the fact that, wow, the influence of the Chinese government is actually ‘news.’

However, one organisation has bravely stood out from the pack. One gutsy team of writers, in a move reminiscent of the bravery displayed by the journalists in Spotlight, have decided to refrain from commenting until they have all the facts.

That team is The Obiter.

The radio silence from The Obiter, however, will today be broken. The fact that one of our own had a violent encounter with pro-CCP activist, Shane Webcke, at the protest, and we still remained silent, is nothing short of heinous.

But today, we’ll break that silence. By admitting we still don’t know where Hong Kong is.

We’ve genuinely been trying so hard, we’ve downloaded lots of different maps, and an unnamed sex addict (and crucial team member) even went to the effort of buying us a globe so we could finally crack the case. But to no avail. 

We’re really struggling to formulate a joke or opinion on this issue in any meaningful way, given the core task of knowing where it is has yet to be achieved. At best, we know that ‘Hong Kong’ is two words that rhyme, and beyond that, we’re flying blind (except for the fact that Peter Hoj clearly has issues because he copped it at primary school for his deranged last name).

Help us out if you can, by sharing any knowledge you may have on the Hong Kong situation. Otherwise, go on with your day, safe in the knowledge that our knowledge is simply pathetic.

No more to come.

"Muscle is Heavier Than Fat” Reasons Big Fat Guy

Johnny Utah (24) is no stranger to questions about his weight.

The seventeen stone Business dropout has faced criticism regarding his size from age fifteen; sources tell The Obiter that his frustrated younger cousins, upon being thrown into the pool by their much older and larger relative, would level a number of fat-shaming insults at the young man including, but not limited to, “plugger”, “lard-ass”, and perhaps most offensively, “Free Willy”.

But according to Mr Utah, science is on his side.

“Muscle is heavier than fat brah” he says.

“Some people just can’t respect the bulk – piss-weak cousins included”

While Mr Utah has a measured body fat percentage of 34%, he holds that “it’s not that simple”, and that the technology used to measure the statistic is “barsh” (sic).

The Obiter is investigating the validity of Mr Utah’s claims.

Man-Child Orders Mocha

Fifth year Arts/Law student Harry Hughes has controversially decided on a mocha for his hot beverage this morning, apparently unaware that he is an adult.

The 22 year old CHVRCHES fan is alleged to have attended the On A Roll bakery at 8:32am this morning, where he ordered the hybrid drink with a brazen disregard for basic human decency.

The move has sparked backlash from a variety of advocacy groups including Amnesty International and Moms Against Mochas (MOM), who have accused Hughes of being a shit cunt.

Donna Mitchell, a leading researcher in the emerging field of beverage-indicated psychopathy, described Hughes’ actions as “reckless” and “really lame”.

In a prepared statement, Mitchell summarised the prevailing opinion among her peers in the field:

“What we basically have here, and this is proven easily by just a quick glance at the raw data and modelling projections, is an act of pure fuckery.

From our research, we can see that people who order coffee almost invariably attempt to accomplish something that day; success may not be guaranteed, but it is at least attempted. On the other hand, those who purchase hot chocolates, and again, our data supports this, are embracing their inner child and enjoying life in all its sweetness.

But cunts that order mochas are flat out just indecisive fuckwits who will never achieve anything or be loved by anyone. And our data supports that.”

Simply stunning research.

More to come.

Local Man Takes ‘Next Step,' Tags Girl from Friday’s in Shit Dog Meme

Whatever you do, don’t listen to Rex Orange County: lovin ain’t easy, as Jack Powell (21) has learned over the last few days.

The fourth year Science/Commerce student has been walking the tightrope of courtship following a short kiss with Kate Hill (20) at Friday’s on Saturday night. Powell, indelibly struck by his riverside enchantress, has decided that the slim chance of more sweet hookies in the future is worth the absolute torture of crafting a next-day message.

Unfortunately for Powell, his charm has faltered without the assistance of 10 black rats and the dulcet tones of Duke Dumont. Miraculously though, his incredibly unimaginative text of “how’d you pull up? haha” was met with a prompt and reasonably enthusiastic answer of “poorly haha hbu?”.

Buoyed by this response, Powell has decided to commence Phase 2 of his Relationship Development Plan by tagging Ms Hill in every shit meme about dogs that he can find.

Whether it’s a photo of a dog stung by a bee or a fucking shit joke about “puppers”, Ms Hill will he tagged, assured Powell at press time.

“Maybe we’ll get married one day. Maybe she’ll block me on all social media. I don’t know. All I know is that I’m going to tag her in every post even vaguely related to dogs until one of those things eventuates. Cheers cunts” read Powell in a prepared statement.

Inspiring words. No more to come.

Local Prop Really Hopes None Of The Boys Just Saw Him Slip The Chapstick Into His Pocket

The cold weather has sent a stern message that it doesn’t care how many pick and drives you can do in 80 minutes, it’s coming to crack your lips. This lesson was learnt the hard way by third grade prop Rory ‘Rhino’ Young. While the backline can get away with hair gel and an iconic red tube of Paw Paw ointment in their kit bags, the big boys up front are not so lucky. 

‘I need feminism because I’m sick of tasting blood all winter’ said the 110kg front rower.

‘At a generous best I can get away with Vaseline, but the sooner toxic masculinity is eradicated from society the sooner I can be up front with the team about my love of strawberry lip balm’

The closet moisturiser explained his intricate and covert reapplication routine to The Obiter.

‘It begins straight after the game when some of the boys go out for a dart, I hide the Chapstick in my lighter hand and pretend to be turning away from the wind, so they don’t see me giving my lips sweet relief.’

It appears that the Rhino is not the only member of the forward pack hiding this dirty little secret. An Obiter investigation uncovered that over the course of the season second rower Liam ‘Duggo’ Duggan has smuggled his Nivea Hydro Care tube internally in order to avoid detection by the rest of the team. Duggo admits that putting a small tube up his bum is radical but argues that it is necessary to avoid accusations that he enjoys sticking other things up his bum if it were discovered he took care of his skin.

‘I had a bit of a close call in the showers once, Rhino came in and we both had our lip balms in hand. The fear in both of our eyes confirmed that we would never speak of it again. We can only hope for a utopia where a man can smash a tinnie on his forehead, turn around and put Sorbolene on his hands. In the meantime, I’ll stick to bum smuggling’

It is regrettable that the idea of a little bit of self-care could undo years of work building a reputation as a hardened piss cutter.  

Hopefully for their sake no more to come.