Viewport width =
March 16, 2009 | by  | in Opinion |
Share on FacebookShare on Google+Pin on PinterestTweet about this on Twitter

Newly divorced lecturer teaching “just whatever the fuck”

In the week that wasn’t an unfortunate precedent may have been set in Victoria University of Wellington teaching protocol when newly divorced Associate Professor Andrew Markston regaled his architecture class with a barrage of esoteric ramblings disguised as lessons.

Markston, who had been married to Social Policy lecturer Margaret Elderberry for twenty-seven years, cashed in his erudite disposition for what has been described as “non-stop bullshit.”

“At first I thought he was sick,” said Olivia Winston, 19. “He sorta waddled into class unshaved, shirt untucked, hair all a mess, and just started telling… ranting.”

Winston’s dictaphone recording of the lecture revealed an intriguing and often colourful exposition of madness masquerading as intelligent academic discourse.

“Prince may have you believe that this is what it sounds like when doves cry, but have you ever felt tears drip, drip, dripping down your face when nobody is around you but the thoughts of… excuse me, I’m talking. Yes, you, fatso. That’s right—me! You know, she’d never let me get a word in edgewise. Apparently, there’s a social policy conference happening somewhere in Germany – Berlin. HA! TAKE MY BREATH AWAY NOW, WHORE,” he quite audibly rambled in-between heavy breaths.

Upon being asked whether the inane ramblings would be available on Blackboard, Markston imparted wrath, implying that the electronic teaching system stifled his “creative flow.”

“Have you ever played a guitar? Like really played it? I once wrote an album – never played it out loud… ever… to anyone… even myself… but I could play it for you, m’dear. Would you listen? Will you watch this old songbird fly?” Markston said to a startled young woman in the third row.

Markston, in lieu of a guitar, opened Google and searched “online keytar.” What followed was described by terrified architecture students as a twenty-minute long bastardisation of Beethoven’s Ode to Joy, played with all the finesse of a five-year-old Technics Music Academy student with no thumbs.

“Come… and…and… and sing a s-s-song… song… of joy…joyful…” he stuttered.

When asked for a response by Salient, Ms. Elderberry was indifferent towards her ex-husband’s performance.

“Typical Andy,” she sighed. “Did he mention his album? Oh, he did? Well.”

“It’s almost difficult to believe he sired two children, but even a broken clock is right twice a day.”

Following his peculiar performance, Markston felt that he had purged himself of the “illness that plagued the landscape of [his] soul for twenty-seven years.”

“Free at last, free at last, thank god almighty I’m free at last. You know who said that? Hmm? Phil Collins, second track on ‘No Jacket Required’,” Markston said.

“Oh kia ora, Phil Collins, my one true friend. Kia ora.”

Share on FacebookShare on Google+Pin on PinterestTweet about this on Twitter

About the Author ()

Kia ora, biography box, kia ora.

Comments (2)

Trackback URL / Comments RSS Feed

  1. Moomama says:


  2. Moopapa says:

    bend over you tasty slut

Recent posts

  1. Laneway: Luck of the Draw
  2. Cuttin’ it with with Miss June
  3. SWAT
  4. Ravished by the Living Embodiment of All Our University Woes
  5. New Zealand’s First Rainbow Crossing is Here (and Queer)
  6. Chloe Has a Yarn About Mental Health
  7. “Stick with Vic” Makes “Insulting” and “Upsetting” Comments
  8. Presidential Address
  9. Final Review
  10. Tears Fall, and Sea Levels Rise

Editor's Pick

This Ain’t a Scene it’s a Goddamned Arm Wrestle

: Interior – Industrial Soviet Beerhall – Night It was late November and cold as hell when I stumbled into the Zhiguli Beer Hall. I was in Moscow, about to take the trans-Mongolian rail line to Beijing, and after finding someone in my hostel who could speak English, had decided