‘C-Covid What?’ Asks Bewildered Broncos Player Licking The Doorknobs At Pubs

It’s become rapidly apparent to the majority of rule-abiding, newswatching Australia that embattled NRL club the Brisbane Broncos have never heard of COVID-19. Despite being so willing to use the pandemic as a ready-made excuse for their abhorrent lack of form, the loose attitude to pubs, clubs, transmitting germs, and transmitting germs at pubs or clubs, has become immediately obvious.

Whilst the average punter is hardly an expert in molecular transmission of infectious diseases, even the most blind referee with his eyes painted on can see that openly licking the doorknobs and used tables at crowded pubs is a fairly dangerous activity at the height of a pandemic.

Which makes it all the more bewildering that it is apparently a ‘team-bonding activity’ for the struggling club at Red Hill.

‘Yeah, we know it looks pretty weird,’ said Anthony Seibold, fronting a press conference with nineteen lawyers and an ex-Mossad special agent just in case anyone brings up ‘those rumours.’

‘But when I was at Harvard, we learnt a lot about business leadership - and strategic risk was an important concept.’

Many journalists were pained to point out that strategic risk refers moreso to undertaking cautious activities with a definite gain, rather than encouraging Kotoni Staggs and Patrick Carrigan to cough in everyone’s mouth at the Everton Park Hotel.

‘Can’t say I’ve heard of this ‘corona’ stuff,’ reported captain Carrigan, after all the boys had just shared one water bottle at training.

‘Covid-covid… doesn’t ring a bell!’ exclaimed sacked forward Tevita Pangai Jr, fresh from drinking a beer from a spit bucket that had been passed around a local wine tasting.

And the final straw came with the ultimate germ transmission between player and coach, involving a third party. Although we can’t print those rumours here because we don’t want Anthony Seibold to literally kill us.

No more to come.

Ekka Winds Clearly Not That Worried About The Ekka

After the seismic changes brought about by the COVID-19 pandemic, few expected life to feel normal for some time. But one vestige of a bygone era has remained. The Ekka Winds. Despite the complete and utter lack of an Ekka, except for that deranged drive-thru which doesn’t have a patch on the relentless scent of cow manure, the Ekka Winds have decided to do Queensland an absolutely mammoth solid and stick around for August.

The traditional cold, dry temperatures and booming winds of August in Brisbane are most commonly associated with rugging up at the Ekka with a fellow Year 9 student, maybe watching the fireworks under a picnic blanket in the stands which you misguidedly thought was an uber-romantic move, but which she interpreted as a sign you were ‘such a good friend.’

But this winter, with no Ekka, and the RNA Showgrounds littered with the broken dreams of young Brisbanites who were hoping to drink six shots of vodka out of a battered Mt Franklin water bottle, the winds have decided to do their part in restoring a vague sense of sanity to proceedings.

We briefly conversed with a spokesman for the Ekka Winds, Mr Derryn Grinch (no relation). ‘We thought it was pretty important to stick around, just to remind everyone that August in Brisbane can be really uncomfortable.’

‘We saw some people having beers on the grass at Southbank, and a few menus at pubs that weren’t blowing away, and we thought that just wasn’t on.’

Whilst some Brisbane residents have complained about the advent of these vicious winds, others are happier about their presence.

‘Makes my farts blow away quicker, ha ha!’ said your disgusting Dad who you moved to Melbourne to get away from but have to live with again due to the pandemic.

No more to come.

‘Gotta Beat That Long Weekend Traffic,’ Says Dad Jumping In The Car This Morning

‘It’s going to be a nightmare on the Bruce Highway, buddy,’ said Mark Pickering (49), a loving father-of-three and a man who seems to be utterly paranoid about any remote traffic build-up.

‘We’ve gotta beat the long weekend traffic if it’s the last thing we bloody well do!’

When the Premier (we’re not even going to attempt that last name without the assistance of SpellCheck and a priest) announced a long weekend to commemorate the tragic passing of the Ekka, most Queenslanders thought that a trip to the beach or the country could be just the tonic to months of COVID-driven fear, isolation, and increasingly unsavoury masturbatory habits.

But for Mark Pickering, this was more than a family holiday. This was an opportunity, to finally get one up on the ‘civilians’ who would be sitting in traffic on Thursday night or Friday morning.

‘Fuck it,’ Mark thought to himself, staring in the eyes of his youngest, Tyson.

‘We’re leaving on Tuesday morning.’

Despite Mark having to wipe out his annual leave balance at Place Kangaroo Point in order to do so, the sense of personal triumph and accomplishment he felt packing the Pajero this morning was nothing short of astronomical.

And as Stradbroke Island beckons, with minimal traffic on the M1, this Queensland Dad has a message for everyone.

‘I miss my wife.’

No more to come.

Americans Just Want To Get Back To Normality Where Kids Shoot Up Schools

On Monday, the United States recorded a colossal 70,000 new COVID-19 cases, further cementing their position as a complete and utter embarrassment to Planet Earth.

As the country's death toll from the global pandemic continues to soar, many parts of the country remain under severe lockdown.

Unsurprisingly, this has been a source of enormous frustration for the gun-loving, bible-bashing, obesity ridden, logic-deprived nation.

Americans, now more than ever, just simply want things to go back to how they were.

Take me back to the good old days!" spat Tucker McGeeves (54) as he used a shotgun to cut his toenails.

"Darn Tootin!" replied Jeff Texas (62), as he used his Make America Great Again cap to drink a Vodka Sunrise.

"Honestly, when was the last time we let a mentally ill 12-year old walk into a gas station to buy a hot dog and an automatic weapon?!" he drawled seductively with a thick southern twang.

It appears that President Donald Trump shares the sentiment of Jeff and Tucker, with the Big Orange demanding that schools reopen in the coming weeks.

No more to come.

‘Wow, There’s A Lot of Snobs Doing Law,’ Says Snob Doing Law

Despite David Pissner’s (19) recent graduation from an elite all-boys private school and current position as a high-paid printing executive at one of those wanky sounding law firms, David reckons that he just doesn’t really ‘fit in’ with all the other law students.

This defiance against the status-quo comes days after an objective fuckwit in his Crim A seminar, Ian McGriches, whose Facebook is littered with references to ‘Daddy Newman’ and ‘Sexy Tony,’ said a rather ‘hows-your-father’ comment about women. 

This drew an uncomfortable, yet polite smile from David.

It was only after Ian popped off to the toilet and every single person at his table collectively started to say to each other ‘what the actual fuck’ that David clicked on to the fact that Ian might have been a bit off. 

David even joined in the discussion with his own incisive jibe of ‘yeah, he was rather unpleasant.’

We salute your courage, Dave.

That night, David, after taking off his definitely-not-prescription Giorgio Armani glasses and placing them on his bedside table beside his high school tennis doubles trophies, begun a journey of self-reflection, thinking to himself, ‘Jeez, there aren’t many normal decent average normal good standard blokes like me doing law, I reckon.’

And as he fell asleep, firmly sandwiched between Country Road sheets and safe in the knowledge there would be a family dinner on the table for him every night, he reflected on his privilege for all of fourteen seconds, before dreaming of a first-year girl who smiled at him once in the Lawbry.

No more to come.

Bloke In Group Chat Who Sends Screenshots Of The News Under The Impression You Live Under A Rock

Despite the fact that there’s a fair bit going on in the news these days, your mate, and engineering student with some fairly left-of-field opinions, Jimmy Lentil (19), reckons that, just to be safe, he best deliver the top headlines to the group chat on a daily basis.

This typically sparks about a two to four message conversation between Jimmy and the nerd of the group (Ethan) about how the world is ‘kinda fucked.’ Emma usually chips in about how this particular piece of news deeply affects her life too.

Some of Jimmy’s finest work came amid the early stages of the COVID-19 outbreak, with the young lad breaking the news that Birdees was closing down its indoor space.

He also prides himself on relaying to the group the how many cases Italy, Spain, Zambia and South Yemen have had for the day (he also loves a case himself! Ha!).

Also, there’s this bloke called Daniel Pavloo (?) that Jimmy reckons you should know about too. It’s some story about this Danish bloke who’s in love with Chinese popstar that keeps leading him on and Dan is just his mate that calls her out on her shit. Really fascinating read actually.

More to come.

OPINION: Chris Lilley Is A Total Dickhead In His Character Of ‘Mum’s New Boyfriend’

This is such bullshit. And it’s insane the media isn’t talking about it. I, Jason Wetherington, twelve years old, am the only one brave enough to come out and say it loud to the people of Australia.

Chris Lilley’s new character sucks. He sucks dick and balls.

I don’t know why the mass media is refusing to cancel him for it, but he’s been playing the role for at least three months now and hasn’t shown any signs of stopping.

This whole character of ‘Mum’s New Boyfriend’ is pretty weird, if we’re being honest. It doesn’t reach the hilarious heights of the super-gay drama guy, Mr G, or the subtle and nuanced racial commentary of African-American artist ‘S. Mouse.’ Instead, this miscellaneous character of ‘Chris’ seems more concerned with having sex with my Mum and sitting around the house than making any sort of biting satirical point.

And also, it’s such a crazy name for a character. His name is already Chris Lilley! Why would he call the ‘Mum’s Dickhead Boyfriend/My New Dad’ character ‘Chris’ as well! It’s just confusing.

And while I had a lot of time for Jonah’s antics, particularly in the modern masterpiece Jonah From Tonga, the title of which was instrumental in clarifying his confusing heritage, I don’t have quite as much appreciation for the comedic art of constantly calling me ‘champ’ and asking me to call him ‘Dad.’

Um, I already have a Dad? He’s just really busy, and has lots of friends that he has to see a lot?

Fuck off, Chris Lilley. I don’t get the character in the slightest.

And Mum, is it alright if Sacha Baron Playingakid comes over for dinner tonight? He’s this new Year 6 who just started at Mt Grovesnor’s, and he’s really tall, so maybe we can play basketball before fish fingers for dinner (please).

No more to come.

‘It Was The Worst-Kept Secret In The Legal Profession,’ Says Those Who Actively Kept The Secret

The legal community has hung their heads in shame over the past few days, throwing their hands up in the air and proclaiming that Dyson Heydon’s disgusting pattern of sexual harassment and abuse was ‘the worst-kept secret in the legal profession.’

This is despite the fact that the secret was actually kept for countless years while the former High Court Justice was afforded a permission structure to continually engage in harassment over a number of years.

Whilst countless lawyers and judges have been tripping over themselves in the media to declare that ‘this was the worst-kept secret,’ and ‘his vile behaviour is something that we all knew about,’ it seems like a slightly bizarre comment from people who were actively complicit in keeping that secret.

The man nicknamed ‘Dirty Dyson’ during his time at Oxford was appointed into an all-male court, filled with reliable fellas who clearly knew how to keep a secret.

The power dynamics which prevented victims from speaking out must have been also been at play for some of the most powerful men in the land, due to the utter radio silence from Heydon’s colleagues, one of whom was the literal Chief Justice. 

For all those who coldly mutter ‘we all knew,’ there are countless more who have asked the question ‘why did you all decide to do what comes across as a massive High Court pinky promise to never report or prevent this sickening pattern of abuse?’

The confusion continues across the land. Must be something in the water in Canberra.

No more to come.

Prestigious ‘Sexual Abusers’ Club Stoked To Welcome A High Court Justice Into Its Ranks

The highest court in the land is stained with shame today, as news has broken regarding the pattern of sexual abuse and harrassment perpetrated by former High Court justice, Dyson Heydon. A name-sounds-like-a-vacuum-cleaner-and-career-abuser-and-harrasser-of-women cunt.

The bravery of victims in coming forward is deserving of monumental respect, as to challenge one of the most respected legal minds in the land is no easy task, particularly in a political climate as sympathetic to 77-year-old immoral Catholics as the present one, where a prominent rapist can be acquitted because ‘there’s no way he could have ruined a child’s life with an act that took only five minutes. He was shaking hands at the church, after all!’

But one group of people, or more accurately one group of fellas, who are utterly stoked about the news today is the prestigious, ever-growing ‘Sexual Abusers Club,’ or SACs. The SACs, who host an annual ball on Epstein Island called the SAC WAC, are littered with prominent names from just about every industry imaginable - but up until today, they regrettably could not find a High Court justice to fill the ranks.

Not because it definitely hasn’t happened loads of times with people rightfully too afraid to speak up, but because the SACs follow a strict policy of ‘if it’s not in the news, it’s not real abuse.’

Fucked that they think that’s a good rhyme.

The President of the SACs, Kev Spacey, released a statement today welcoming Dyson Heydon into their ranks of sickening sex pests, suggesting it was ‘wicked news that a respected Judge can join the ranks of countless actors, politicians, musicians, stand-up comedians, CEOs, and teachers.’

Chris D’Elia, a recent addition to the SAC Club but a man already proving his stripes by being a paedophilic slime, is reportedly hosting a stand-up night to celebrate Heydon’s addition to the club. Laughter is strongly discouraged.

Above all else, reports from inside the Sexual Abusers Club indicate a hope that the mind of the retired jurist will be put to use to prevent further victims from being legally positioned to hold responsible men to account. 

But unfortunately for the SAC, the ultra-conservative LNP-shilling cunt that is Dyson Heydon has about as much intellectual integrity as he does respect from the Australian public after today.

Sweet fuck all.

No more to come.

‘She’ll Be Right’, Says Law Lecturer Setting Assignment Word Limit of 8

It’s 11pm. The Prop A assignment deadline is fast approaching. Ding Ding. Another apologetic email arrives from the Course-Coordinator with about eight different fonts concerning the 3 mistakes in Question 1, the 7 in Question 2, and the 12 in the Week 8 lecture.

As the thought of ‘why the fuck are they assessing this?’ continues to circle your head, you realise you have a bigger problem at hand; the word limit for the assignment is a mere 8 words, including your name and student ID.

As you observe the 186-page dossier known as the past exam feedback sheet, you wonder if your law lecturer honestly thinks that you can write this assignment in less words than you’ve spoken to any woman in the past 3 months.

Broken English will have to do, you think, deleting any use of the word ‘the’, ‘they’, ‘him’, ‘her’, ‘law’, ‘legal’, ‘I’ ‘am’ ‘so’ ‘fucked’.

We contacted the dean of law, Patrick Parkinson, for a comment. He let out a wide smile, merely responding with two words: ‘Jason Chin’.

‘Fair enough’, we thought.

No more to come.