Student Pile-O-Dicks

Friday, 20 March, 2015

This year the UMSU President cut a sizeable portion of UMSU’s annual allocation to the National Union of Students (NUS). In this Farrago exclusive, Eric Gardiner spoke with two student politicians from opposite ends of the political spectrum to get their thoughts on the move.




Hi there, I’m Scrappy! At a recent meeting of our semi-autonomous anarchic auto-collective I was elected Neckbeard-in-Chief, High Priestess of Harassment, and Obersturmführer of the Socialist Altogether. True to form I will be rejecting the premise of this article entirely, instead embarking on a Joycean stream-of-consciousness rant which circles the issue like a wounded shark, only to die alone and unmourned upon the sandy ocean floor.

Much like practitioners of tantric sex, who delay orgasm in order to achieve a more satisfying release, we Socialists sometimes hold off from ejaculating words like “THATCHER” and “PALESTINE” for as many as thirty or forty seconds at a time. However, as you’ll discover, these auto-erotic detourettes are no laughing matter.

As we learned from the plague of think-pieces that sprouted in the aftermath of the Charlie Hebdo attacks, effective parody should aim to ‘punch up, not down’. And it doesn’t get any lower than Socialist Altogether!

I can now reveal that our longstanding practice of obnoxious harassment has all been part of a grand strategy of pre-emptive self-satire.

Conflict really gets our haunches dripping, and the word ‘scab’ is a favourite term of abuse among our tribe. However, we’ve recently discovered that scabs have become a popular form of currency among pre-pubescent males, with the ‘graze craze’ for patches of bloodied flesh quickly surpassing the popularity of Tazos and Crazy Bones. When small boys like Gregory or Oscar (not pictured) harvest their ripe scabs, dry them on classroom windowsills and trade them for fruit Roll Ups, the system wins. We can’t support this kind of enterprising proto-capitalist filth, and have decided to discontinue the term for good.

Just like the duplicating fungi (or ‘Yuckles’) from the seminal Australian text Round the Twist, Socialist Altogether will continue to spread our creeping, microbial taint across campus, leaving the residue in our wake to spell out one final reminder that the Left really is above derision.

Sorry, what was the question? FIDDLER ON THE ROOF WAS AN INSIDE JOB.


When we make love I turn the bedside lamp sideways so our two bodies become one whole shapeless mass upon the wall.

Hey guys, I’m Charley Relish, President of the Melbourne University Liberty Club. I’m a 3rd year Arts student – well, I say Arts, but because I will soon be commencing a prestigious, full fee-paying postgrad law degree, I prefer to think of it as ‘pre-douche’.

Here at the club we think that this budget proposal doesn’t go nearly far enough. We must disaffiliate from the NUS entirely. It’s high time we began treating universities and their students like Spartan children; deregulated, stripped bare, and left to thrive or perish on a hillside.

More importantly, disaffiliation would free up some much-needed funds to help rehabilitate the Liberty Club’s public image. We’ve all read the headlines: “Misogynist rants” from Young Liberties… one of our members describing homosexuals as “brain damaged”… the time we all turned up to Beginners African Drum and Dance dressed as Leonardo DiCaprio’s character from Django Unchained (just kidding! The last one totally didn’t happen).

This brings me to Radical Sex and Consent Week. Now, in the past our members have proved themselves enthusiastic – if unworldly – participants in Rad Sex events. A few years ago we furtively taped one of its workshops, before passing on the gory details to the Herald Sun. What you’ve got to understand is that sex ed has never been one of our strong suits. Up until now it has largely consisted of sneaking glances at Dolly Doctor in the bathrooms of the Queensberry Hotel. But if we can move past the irony of secretly recording a workshop on consent, what could be a more fitting place for our Club’s glorious, modern rebirth?

Several minor changes are in order. With the Centenary of ANZAC close at hand we’re calling on the Union to rebrand the week as #WreathSexFest 2015, and usher in an entire fortnight of orgiastic warmongering. Foreign Minister Julie Bishop recently reaffirmed our commitment to ignoring Turkey’s genocide of 1.5 million Armenians in 1915, presumably fearing that that Australian MPs would be barred from attending upcoming ceremonies in Gallipoli. So this event is a great opportunity to celebrate the palimpsestuous contempt for history that we share with the Turkish government!

The Liberty Club are calling on Chancellor-of-Vice Glyn Davis to preside over #WreathSexFest from astride his cross-trainer in the Beaurepaire Centre. With one mighty paw “The Silverback” will wield the University mace traditionally reserved for graduation ceremonies and whip our callow skins into a patriotic lather. This frothing foam will form fleeting images of incompetent British commanders sending Australian soldiers ever onwards to fruitless death, and beg us all to remember why Gallipoli deserves its status as the forging-place of our nation’s character.