Bouncing off the halls | Issue 24

Bouncing off the halls | Issue 24

You’ve been boozed. You’ve been bonked. You’ve been balls-deep in bodily fluids. And now you’ve been busted.

Let’s crack into it, shall we?

We begin with breaking news: an underground, black-market nightclub has sprung up at the very heart of one of Dunedin’s most prestigious halls. At Studholme – okay, I lied about the prestigious part – one student turned his bedroom into a fresher rave pit-cum-spicy sweat dungeon, complete with strobes, speakers and a flailing mass of filthy fresher bodies. Extra room was made by punching holes in the walls (call this emergency renovation) and by throwing the bed out of the window (interior redecoration). Dubbed “Kingpone,” this truly remarkable nightlife experience comes complete with its own Facebook page, which sadly announced the club’s closing due to “final warnings, broken bottles and substantial fines.” Distraught Studholme residents mourned the club’s closure in the only way they knew how – with a College-wide keg race at Willowbank shops, resulting in a police escort and a stern talking to from the Proctor. Rest in peace, Kingpone, you will be missed.

Speaking of underground operations, the naughty nippers over at Unicol seem to be giving the Studholme criminals a run for their money. As if a 30-man lock-in, complete with smuggled-in kegs, wasn’t enough, these Unicol outlaws craved the adrenaline only illicit activity could satisfy. A few drinks deep, they proceeded to scale the building’s North Tower with ninja-like stealth, climbing into the Master’s office to steal a confiscated funnel. For all our St Margs readers, a funnel is a beer-drinking apparatus. Thankfully, no one was captured during the operation, and these scandalous super-villains lived to drink another day.

With all this talk of the illegal, illicit and immoral it’s easy to lose sight of what truly matters in life. By this we mean true love. One lovely Unicol lass managed to find not one, not two, but five true loves in five consecutive nights, racking up a Dan Carter-like conversion rate that surely puts her on the fast-track to the black jersey. Much like the average Health-Sci student, the young woman did not let muscle fatigue or sheer exhaustion hinder her quest for a perfect score. Determined to plough and pillage her way through Unicol and the surrounding fresher villages, this relentless lioness knew no obstacle. That was, however, until the sixth consecutive “morning-after,” where she discovered her fresh catch was actually a tad stale – being that he was 44 years old with three kids. Oh, Unicol, it’s not what we’re drinking; it’s how we’re drinking.

Cumberland College once again returns like an oozing sore on the face of North Dunedin. This time we follow a Cumby female as she joins her fellow freshers at the local watering hole, Boogie Nites. During the traditional ritual of selfies and dancing, our gal suddenly found herself regretting ordering the “super-hot” curry at India Gardens only hours before. Rushing to the bathroom, she found a lengthy line for the Ladies’, causing her to make a snap-decision that will undoubtedly affect her life, and the lives of many others, for as long as they shall live. Male Boogie Nites patrons were stunned into silence when a drunken damsel threw open the door of the male bathrooms, eyed up the nearest urinal, popped a squat, and unloaded her bowels in full view of the traumatised onlookers.

After releasing her Kraaken, the now-carefree youngster shimmied her way past the scarred and speechless spectators and back to the D-floor, leaving a trail of destruction in her wake. The cherry on top of this disgusting cake? Our lass took home a lad later that night, confirming once and for all that one man’s trash really is another man’s treasure.

This article first appeared in Issue 24, 2014.
Posted 3:00pm Sunday 21st September 2014 by Staff Reporter.