Kia ora, Salientkateers. It’s yer old buddy MJO here with some news from the news desk about writing news.
The news section is a living, breathing reflection of everything that rocks and rolls at Vic, in Wellington, and beyond. It’s part cheeky, part serious, and a whole lot of coming down the mountain.
The news section has been responsible in the past for shedding light on dingy hostels, shambolic clothing choices, money scandals, and so much more. There is an overwhelming sense of satisfaction to contributing to something that is relevant, that is engaging, that is right on your doorstep, and is NOW.
I’m on the look out for volunteers with gusto and passion. You can contribute as much or as little as you feel. What ever way you dice it, I want you. In fact, I need you.
Flick me an e-mail at news@salient.org.nz with the subject “Volunteer” and come be a part of one of the most widely ignored read sections in YOUR student magazine.
What are the pay rates like?
Yer get pahd in scrag cakes en stew
Will I get syphilis?
Ya will if ye dinnae eat yer haggis, lad. And a clip roond yer ear. Noo pley thum pipes!
Wee Hamish, what different eyes you have…
He means “ayes”.
Cyclone Wee Hamish destroying Queensland after the troubles caused in Victoria when the conflagration sprung from his fiery red hair. Now moved onto to destroying Salient site comment threads.
Beware.
Aye’ll find the wee coont n smuk’m aboot n roond ‘is hied the smarmy wee fooker. Start’n cyclones n aw ya coont.
Aw, leave alone. E’s a good yin, is ‘Amish, a fine wee bairn, no doot. Joost a bit fiery red with ‘is fiery red locks doon by the loch.
Dinnae teik the pish, woman!
SLAP!
Woot tha fook areya doin befowlin our great fahmalies name on tha intanet? If I wasnae stuck in Burnfoot I wouldae coome ovah thair an fook up yar faces with a piece a ‘aggis an a ‘eroin spike.
Send me som muir money fur skag?
Aye, yer money’s in the mail ya coont, dinnae wurry yer wee heid ya fuckin sheep-shagger!
Bit stey oot a ma famley ya smartassin’ wee gaffy coont! Ah’ll hit the missus if ah feels loik it, loiksey! Ah, yer a good sort, Angus, ya coont, better than one a they smarmy fookin english poncy coonts eh?
Fuckin scottish bigsy-boy, salt ay the earth, yer a good lad.