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May 15, 2017 | by  | in Shit Chat |
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2017 is cancelled and other Shit Chat

I’m trying to be optimistic by looking at the year as nearly halfway over so here are, in no particular order, ten of the shittest yarns that I have heard thus far in 2017:


“VUW is 100% Smoke Free.”

If I’m sitting underneath a Smoke Free sign outside university at 7.50am, holding a cup of coffee like it’s liquid gold and huffing back a thin and poorly rolled dart, buddy you bet I read that Smoke Free sign and pointedly ignored it. I’m well aware that smoking kills, my dude, why else would I be so invested in the habit?


“@POTUS has named March 2017 as Irish American Heritage Month.”

Just in case you aren’t fluent in White Supremacist, this tweet from Sean “Kellyane Told Me To Say This” Spicer translates roughly to: “Mango-Mussolini loves immigrants, just as long as they’re white.” This isn’t new, Irish American Heritage Month was created in 1991 by old mate Bush, but you just know that the Partially Sentient Spray Tan got a hard on endorsing what is essentially white history month.


“Yeah, hi, can I get a half-strength decaf long black?”

Did you know that for free you can get a cup of hot water, mix in some ash off the stairs outside Easterfield, and create a hot beverage that tastes almost exactly like a half-strength decaf long black? Did you also know that for free you can sleep in for five more minutes, and not incite the derision of both the poor barista who has to prepare your hot sewer water and the people in line behind you that would hook up the portafilter basket to the veins in their arms if given half the chance? Cheers.


“Not all boys are bastards, Sash.”

I wish I could tell you that this particular piece of advice from my well-intentioned father was ironic and informed of the #NotAllMen circle-jerk but, alas, Dad is just genuinely convinced that finding myself a man is the path to happiness. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again, men are trash, and if you’re offended by this, Robert, you’re probably part of the problem.


“Yeah I met her, and she’s hot, but her personality, bro. She captivates me, bro.”

My flatmate talking about a girl he’s been seeing. He’s outrageously enamoured and happy and it’s fucking disgusting, frankly. In case y’all didn’t get the memo, happiness and general satisfaction with your significant other is so 2016; in 2017 it’s cool to be pathologically single and perpetually doubtful that someone will touch your genitals ever again. Just so you know.


“I’m not a racist.”

Said Mike from Paraparaumu, on the proposal to give SH1 seven “unpronounceable” Māori names. I hate to say it, Mike, but “it’s PC gone haywire” roughly translated from White As A Toilet Seat becomes “but Muuum, not being racist after such a long time of getting away with being a racist is too hard.” I hate to say it, Mike, but do you think that maybe if Te Reo Māori was mandatory in schools you might now be able to pronounce “Rauoterangi Road”?


“Counselling services cut to six appointments per year in a bid to get more students through an already stretched system, instead of keeping up with the demand for new staff.”

You’re telling me that in addition to overpriced coffee, a crusade against nicotine, having to climb six fucking flights of stairs in the library like I’m some fucking athlete, and the general omnipresent dread that university nourishes, I’m paying student levies so that when I inevitably have a meltdown I have to fill out yet another fucking questionnaire to ascertain just how depressed I am, only to be told that new policy dictates no long-term care can be provided? Sick, bruh.*


“If you’d said that 400 years ago I’d have called you a witch and had you burnt at the stake.”

Okay, in fairness this is a fucking fantastic yarn; what girl doesn’t get off on their crush comparing them to a witch?? Take notes lads, this is how to woo a woman.


“Ivanka Trump: the New Feminist Icon?”

No. Just, no. Rumour has it that rules one through ten in Ivanka’s recent book Women Who Work: Rewriting the Rules For Success, are “Just be born rich and conventionally attractive.” I get that female role models at the executive level are few and far between, but personally I draw the line at glorifying the woman who married Jared “Fuck Poor People” Kushner.


“Yeah I’d have no issue kicking a dog in the face.”

Last but not least, this unnecessary performance of toxic masculinity, brought to you by a lad at a party who was a box of Diesels deep and gave the impression that when he gets married he’s going to treat his dog exponentially better than he will treat his wife.


* If you want to voice your concerns about this utter cock-up please do: email or

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