Category: Satire

• If Canberra hypothetically had a dictator and that was hypothetically me

  June 5, 2025 10:33 am Comments Off on If Canberra hypothetically had a dictator and that was hypothetically me

  Let’s say, hypothetically, that I were to become the dictator of Canberra, that I had an astronomical budget with which I could do whatever I pleased, and that I was feeling very inspired and motivated to do something. Unlikely, but not impossible. So during my reign, these are the changes I would implement. Some are practical—others really aren’t—but I’d do it anyway and you would thank me.
  The first change I’d make would be to implement an emergency infrastructure program to provide Canberra with state-of-the-art public transport. Taking the metro in Sydney over the weekend, if only for a few stops, was quite thrilling and reminded me of the European metropolises where life is unimaginable without a subway. I remember my Polish friend asking me about the public transport in Canberra. She assumed we had a subway, because any sensible capital city does, and I had to laugh and tell her that no, the capital city of Australia is at the mercy of buses, an incomplete light rail and roads where seemingly no one knows how to indicate. A subway under the lake would be groundbreaking—or some train lines circling the whole city, bringing people from suburbia to their workplaces and minimising the nightmare of the Tuggeranong Parkway. After all, buses are not immune to traffic, and traffic will only continue to grow as the population does. A subway for Canberra… maybe it shouldn’t be so unthinkable. And a few ferries, too. Just for fun. 
  The second change I would order would be to make the architecture more interesting. Canberra would benefit from an abundance of stained-glass windows, purely because they are unique and very, very pretty. I am also personally a massive fan of colourful glass so as dictator it would be a priority to put it all over the currently grey corporate office blocks which make up the city centre. Imagine: all the windows gradually being replaced, so that this city becomes a beacon of all the colours under the sun. Throw some in Parliament House! Government funding would be given to every sector of the public service to install a pretty window to greet guests, or just on a random floor of the office building to cheer the workers while they have their coffee and wait for the printer to work. The window frames also require some reinventing. Imagine a slightly run-down office building in Woden spruced up with some arches and latticing, so that going to work feels like stepping into a medieval castle for the day. There would also be an immediate order criminalising the refurbishment of Canberra’s architectural gems with minimalist furniture and grey/white paint. They must stay whimsical and full of character, both inside and out.
  Moreover, the design of new buildings would be adjusted to properly reflect the image of the Bush Capital. New high-rise apartment blocks, which have become increasingly common around the city, will no longer have just sleek glass or concrete exteriors—rather, the walls would become vertical gardens covered in plants. These gardens would make the buildings naturally cooler in summer and provide a habitat for the creatures that would otherwise be forced away by urban development. Yes, you’d get a few eight-legged guests, but think how authentic it would be! Nature not only in your backyard, but part of the building itself. Of course, all the plants would be somewhat fire-resistant, but under my genius redevelopment plans, you wouldn’t be able to tell where the bush stopped and the city started!
  As an extra note, these apartments would not cost anyone a fortune, because I’d be a generous dictator like that, and money for your homes would be acquired from the hypothetical store at my disposal. Cheap housing for the people I force stained-glass windows upon is a right—a right to show off the beautiful windows I funded. And also because housing is just a human right, according to someone apparently important that I don’t want criticising my regime and ruining all the fun. All houses would be within walking distance of my public transport system so that the whole world would want to move to Canberra. And these houses would be perfectly well insulated, because the fact that a European winter feels warmer than a Canberra one is simply ridiculous and cannot be allowed to persist. Gone would be the days of two doonas, a blanket folded in half, another blanket folded in half, a woollen blanket, another blanket, and a dressing gown on standby at the end of the bed for the worst-case scenario of a -5 degree night wherein you STILL wake up shivering because it’s really, really cold. 
  I would also order the immediate construction/renovation of the Canberra Theatre into something truly world-class: a global marvel to knock the Sydney Opera House out of the spotlight, finally. The acoustics would be better than the Philharmonie in Berlin, the foyer and concert hall more decadent and elegant than any baroque masterpiece in the world. There would be enough seating and advertising that it would be able to hold massive concerts and performers would no longer skip Canberra on their way between Sydney and Melbourne. We have an excellent music scene and it deserves more, so your kind dictator would shower it with the funding it has been denied for so long. 
  To take action on the Canberran crisis of running into people you really don’t want to run into LITERALLY EVERYWHERE, I would implement a city-wide escape tunnel system, specifically designed for making a hasty exit and avoiding small talk or just the mere sight of someone you aren’t in the mood for. Because it is a problem, and quite a culture shock for anyone coming from a big city. Universities are crawling with vague acquaintances. A nice drink at a cafe is ruined by the sight of your old coworker. And heaven forbid you go meandering around the shopping centre near your old high school… Of course, running into people you know isn’t always a bad thing and can even be a pleasant surprise, but I firmly believe there should be more options for making an escape. 
  I know I’m late for the ACT election, but luckily for you, as a dictator, I wouldn’t really care about elections, so you can let me start work right away! What are you waiting for –– implement me as Canberra’s dictator from 2026. 

  Chiara Hackney-Britt

• H.C. Coombs’ Marvellous Maze of Wonder

  April 17, 2025 4:53 pm Comments Off on H.C. Coombs’ Marvellous Maze of Wonder

  Picture this. A sprightly young Political Science student, right off his first year. He has done every compulsory course, tackling the dizzying heights of titans such as POLS1009 along the way. He is also fresh off a summer break of drinking, drinking, and regret — just another 19-year old during any semblance of free time.
  Well, you’ve just pictured me at the start of last year. And let’s just say, I felt invincible. I had gotten a passing grade in everything I had touched thus far. And I was ready to go to my classes with a brand new vigour and a crippling case of alcoholism. However, that was the problem. For as much as an exemplary student I was, I was complacent. Every course I had thus far was largely confined to the walls of my home, or in the comforting arms of Marie Reay. Sure, I had the odd lecture out in some far-flung spot, but who goes to lectures anymore?
  So, I felt fairly confident about going to a tutorial in the H. C. Coombs Building. I had heard rumblings of the worst tall tales you could imagine. About students disappearing and never coming back. But surely none of it could be true, right?
  It takes a while to get there from my usual route. Marie Reay is just a straight shot down from Uni Ave, an easy spot to get to for any townie. However, Coombs requires a trek not too dissimilar from a walk up Kosciusko. A dizzying hike past the School of Art & Design followed by a harrowing journey past the Chancellery Building is bound to disorient anyone. And disorientation is the last thing you need for a beast like Coombs…
  I walk in the front door. I check the time on my phone. 11:32. Perfect, more than enough time to find the spot for my 12pm tute. Or so I thought. Little did I know what lay before me. I check the building map. “Huh, this is certainly odd,” I think to myself. The three interlocking hexagons are an interesting design for a building. However, as cool as they are, they are also conniving. They will get you lost at every opportunity. As I soon found out. I wandered those halls for only around 5 minutes, but it felt like 5 decades. Every turn felt like it sent you in the wrong direction. Left, right, left, left, right, another right, left again.
  I end up back out the front somehow. I have gone in circles, which is very strange for a hexagon-shaped building. However, I’m not broken just yet. It is only Week 2, after all. So I go back into the maze. I try retracing my steps to ensure I don’t follow them again. However, this building has many ways of deceiving you. I end up at the start. Again. How did that happen? I check the time. 11:43. I know that’s still more than enough time, but my hope wanes slightly. So I go back into the maze again. But this time, I decide to experiment. During my endless turns, I spot a door. I figure it won’t hurt to try, so I open it.
  I’m in a field. There’s grass as far as the eye can see. Trees stand for miles into the distance. There’s no sign of civilization. Odd. I could’ve sworn this was on the inside of the building. I turn around and see the door again. So I go back in. I stumble around again for a bit, and then see another door. I open, and I see the entrance to Coombs on the other side.
  At this point I’m questioning whether the hangover from the previous night has truly left. Nevertheless, I walked in. And yet again, I’ve been spat out to the front of Coombs. I check the time again. 11:38. Wait a minute, did I just… No time to think. I still have a tutorial to attend. I go back into the maze. This time the hallways are twisting in odd patterns. At one point I swear I was walking on the roof. However, I manage to make the right sequence of turns, and I end up right in front of the room my tutorial is supposed to be in. I check the time on my phone. 11:57. Perfect. Just in time.
  I open the door. I go to sit down, but there’s nowhere to sit. Odd. I stand behind a desk. A man walks in. He starts talking about mitochondria. Oh dear.
  “Hi Sir, what class is this?”
  “Oh this is BIOL1004, my good lad!”
  “Shit, I thought this was for POLS2119, my mistake.”
  I laugh it off. He does not.
  “Ah, not an uncommon mistake my boy! You’re looking for Room FA#348.560! This is FA#348.561!”
  “Ah, of course, how could I make such a silly mistake?”

  He doesn’t pick up my sarcasm.

  “I don’t know, it’s very clearly signposted.”

  I go to leave, however, I’m no longer taking any chances.

  “Do you know where that room is by any chance?”

  “Oh sure! It’s on Level 3.”

  “What?!”

  “What you need to do is turn right, then left, then right, then 3 more rights, then up the 3 flights of stairs, then turn left and right consecutively 17 times, then through the 3 doors, and then you’re there! If you hit the lamp, you’ve gone too far.”

  I stand there flabbergasted.
  “I don’t know why you look so confused, my good lad! Those were very clear instructions.”

  “Well, could you at least, like, write them down for me or something?”
  “No. I’m a very busy man, young lad! I have a class to teach right now!”

  I look across the room. There’s only two people here.
  “…They’ll be here soon. Now on your way, young lad!”

  I head for the exit, not even beginning to question why a class on biology is currently in a CASS building.
  I manage to reach the three flights of stairs, and go through the motions of the 17 consecutive lefts and rights. After what feels like enough turns, I see a door. I go through. I enter a room that I immediately recognise.
  It’s the Marie Reay Superfloor.
  At this point I feel my sanity start to slip. What is up with this building? Why has ANU somehow invented wormholes and time travel? Why did they cram all of this technology within one building? And where the fuck is this fucking tutorial? I see a door on the other side of the Superfloor. I BOLT towards it, fling it open, run through, and slam it shut. I see the lamp, but at this point I don’t care. I turn around.

  “What are you still doing here?”

  It’s the biology teacher from before. Oh my God.

  “Clearly you turned right when you were supposed to turn left!”
  “Well it would’ve been a lot EASIER if you WROTE DOWN THE INSTRUCTIONS!”

  “No need to shout, young lad! At least you’re safe, the cops have been trying to find you for ages!”

  “Huh?”
  I check the time. It’s 12:36 on a Friday.
  Three days after I entered.
   “What the fu—”

  “Come on, I’ll get you back to the front. I’m sure everyone will be relieved.”
  I follow him as close as I can, and I walk out the front. There’s a small army of people. Police, news reporters, family, friends, acquaintances, everyone. But at this point I’ve dissociated. I collapse on the concrete.
  I wake up in my bed. I check the news. Every story is about the man who got lost in this building for three days. Everyone is talking about it. But there’s only one thing on my mind.
  I open up MyTimetable and immediately assign myself to an online tute.
  Never again.
  And from that point forward, I committed to telling everyone I knew about those hallowed hexagons. People think I’m crazy, and then they go missing. Every single time.
  Time to time, I still think about what I saw in there, even if no-one believes me. Maybe one day I’ll go back to figure out what exactly is going on. But for now I can only warn people about what lies behind the doors of the H. C. Coombs Building.

  Cameron Upton

• Rush for ANUSA completes the trifecta of Gay iconography in this years StuPol election

  September 25, 2024 11:25 am Comments Off on Rush for ANUSA completes the trifecta of Gay iconography in this years StuPol election

  14 years after their divorce from ANUSA, the Woroni Board of Editors have realised that life really has never been the same since the split. Being forced to report on SRCs and routinely talk to StuPol hacks without having any actual power has finally gotten to them.
  Presenting: Rush for ANUSA 2024. *insert Charli XCX and Chappell Roan joke here*
  Charlie Crawford (Editor-in-Chief), well known ANUSA wonk*, is convening the ticket and running for ANUSA President. Crawford is running on a platform of putting Red Bull in the Marie Reay water fountains and permanently muting those people in course group chats who ask questions you can find on the Wattle page.
  Sarah Greaves (Deputy Editor-in-Chief) is the ticket’s pick for Vice-President. When asked what drew her to the role, Greaves expressed a desire to change the BKSS “I’m sick of all this off-brand bullshit, I want real Nutri Grain”. Greaves also cited the role as VP as a good opportunity to grow her LinkedIn network.
  Raida Chowdhury (News Editor) is running for NUS Delegate, on a groundbreaking platform of vowing to abolish the NUS once and for all. She cites her experience live tweeting NatCon 2023 and being pestered by political party hacks as “one of the worst weeks of [her] life”. Her approach to bringing down the almost 40 year old national association remains nonetheless unclear.
  Arabella Ritchie (TV Editor) is the ticket’s candidate for Treasurer. Her policy involves abolishing ANU Observer, and buying an ANUSA Boat to match the Ute. When asked about their platform, which is sure to be controversial, Ritchie said “ANUSA boat parties would slap”.
  Jasmin Small (Art Editor) is Rush’s Clubs Officer candidate. She promises to allocate the entire ANUSA budget to Clubs. When asked whether the rest of her ticket is onboard with such a sweeping change, Small declined to comment. 
  Claudia Hunt (Content Editor) is controversially running for both Education and Welfare Officer. When asked what prompted the bold decision, Hunt responded “do people even really know the difference anyway?”. 
  Bella Wang (Communications Editor) is the natural pick for General Secretary – in their media release the ticket claims that the whole role of the General Secretary is to communicate things. Wang vows to abolish all general meetings, following the trend of shortening meeting times because people are snowflakes and too busy.
  Cate Armstrong (Radio Editor) is running for Undergraduate Member of ANU Council (UMAC), bucking the trend of presidential candidates being the typical pick for the role. If elected, she promises to livestream all ANU Council meetings on Woroni Radio. When asked what stood out to her about the role, Armstrong responded “I heard council members get a parking spot right near Kambri”.
  Phoebe Denham (Managing Editor) has recused themselves from running as they fear it would be a conflict of interest. Famous ANUSA hack, Denham did not want to get involved this StuPol season, and declined a media comment. They promise to hold down the fort at Woroni and position the Association well for when the two organisations inevitably remarry. 
  It remains to be seen what this means for the future of Woroni SRC Tweeting, and for journalistic integrity on campus generally. 
  Voting opens at 9am on the 30th of September. Check your university email for more details.
  *wonk: a person who takes an enthusiastic or excessive interest in the specialised details of a particular subject or field, especially political policy.
  #satire

  Woroni Editor

• Remaining friends with the Ontologically Evil APS friend

  March 4, 2024 4:31 pm Comments Off on Remaining friends with the Ontologically Evil APS friend

  Lately, you’ve noticed something different about your friend. Something off. There’s a spring in their step. They’re dressed business casual, even though it’s 7pm on a Saturday. The lanyard at their hip swings hypnotically as they walk down Uni Ave, like a metronome, or the quivering hand of the Doomsday clock. You know these symptoms. We all do. 
   
  They’ve gotten a job at the APS.
   
  Of course, you rush to congratulate them. They’ve joined the world of real jobs (APS employee, paralegal, Woroni writer), leaving you and your not-real job (hospo, high school tutor, Woroni writer) far behind. You ask where they work, and for some reason, your friend can’t quite meet your eyes. The DKD, they say. It’s a new department, you wouldn’t have heard of it.  
   
  Curious, you press further. DKD? Is that like PMC?
  Sorta, your friend replies, though their gaze is still skittering around the room, checking all the exits. 
  So, what does it stand for?
  They mumble something unintelligible. 
  What?
  Dog-Kidnapping Department.
  The what? 
  The Dog-Kidnapping Department.
  And you…?
  Kidnap people’s dogs. Yeah.
   
  You’re shocked. Your friend takes the opportunity to make a dash for the stairs, with a hurried goodbye and an excuse about emails, leaving you to bear the weight of this horrifying knowledge. You like your friend. You want to stay friends with your friend. But you consider yourself a good person, even something of an activist – you did Veganuary this year – and supporting someone who works for the literal Dog-Kidnapping Department is optically terrible.
  How do you deal with this?
   

  It’s actually a lot more nuanced than that.

  The DKD sounds bad on paper, but it’s actually part of Labor’s recent attempt to keep their climate change promises. 
  The CSIRO has developed a newer, greener form of renewable energy. More investor-friendly than solar, apparently less unsightly than wind, they’ve constructed a thousand large, hamster-wheel-esque turbines, which are currently being set up in the suspiciously large basement under Parliament House. The dogs then run in these hamster wheels, generating kinetic energy that will power homes across the nation.
  Are they taking dogs from their families? Yes. Did that one little girl cry when they took ‘Ruby’ – now Organic Engine 414 – away last month? Also yes. But if we want to be running on 82% renewable energy by 2030, we can’t afford to be Mx. Nice Guy. 
  Of course, your friend’s family dog is safe. Those bourgeois poodle-crosses wouldn’t be any good in the turbines. 
   
           2. They’re getting the bag.
  Sure, your friend is working for a department that’s kind of evil, but they’re just getting the bag. Isn’t that kind of girlboss of them? They go to work in their fun little office outfits, roleplaying adulthood, a total corporate glamour dreamboat. Profiting off dog-kidnapping never looked so good. It’s slay.
  And the cost of living affects them too. Their rent is higher than last year even though their new sharehouse is smaller and further from campus, and it feels like groceries get more expensive every week. This is the only offer they’ve gotten after two months of job applications. They want a little treat every now and then. 
   
             3. It puts them on the DFAT track.
  The DKD is only the first step in your friend’s ten-year plan. It’ll get their foot in the door, and from there it’s just a hop, skip and a jump to that DFAT graduate program all the International Securities students are tearing each other apart over. Stealing those pets from loving homes might seem extreme at first, but consider the alternative: having to find any other job with an Asian Studies degree.
   
              4. It’s good representation.
  They’re one of the first queer people hired by the department. They’re also, they tell you proudly, the only one with a facial piercing, and it’s so cool nobody even minds. Sure, their boss introduced them to the team by saying “his pronouns are they/them”, but they’re trying!
  Wouldn’t you feel better knowing that your dog was stolen by an empowered queer person, paving the way for other queer people to get into dog-kidnapping?
   
               5. They don’t actually do anything anyway.
  If none of these other reasons have swayed your strong moral compass, then rest assured: your friend isn’t actually doing any dog-kidnapping. Nobody is. The DKD has stalled in its first month of operation, and the first dog-kidnapping orders are still working their way through the department’s bloated gut. Your friend spends their workdays wiggling their cursor, refreshing their inbox and begging their supervisor for work, who in turn begs their supervisor for work, who’s about to move to a better-paid job in the Treasury. Those dogs aren’t going anywhere.

  Claudia Hunt

• Satire: Cheers Dan

  November 2, 2023 5:13 pm Comments Off on Satire: Cheers Dan

  An obituary to the saviour of Victoria, our dearly departed supreme leader dictator, I mean Premier Daniel Andrews.
  Daniel Michael Andrews leaves Victoria after nine years in power and winning three straight elections, each with a more considerable margin than the last. Dan leaves Victoria having removed more than 70 level crossings, placed Melbourne in Lockdown for 245 days in 2020 alone and did it all for the low price of $239 billion worth of debt. And now, after it all, he has left the job as premier and resigned as the member for Mulgrave so he can play some golf, spend time with his kids, have some cheeky ciggies and get on the beers. 
   
  The Good, The Bad and The Ugly. 
  The good, Dan the builder, Dan the progressive and Dan the populist. 
  Dan got shit built. There is no way around the fact that his most significant legacy is ‘Victoria’s big build’, with projects like the suburban rail loop, a new metro tunnel, level crossing removal, the west gate tunnel and finally, a train to Melbourne airport.
   

  Melbourne is now bigger than Sydney, and Victoria has grown by 1 million people and continues to be the most densely populated state in the country. 
  Dan, the progressive from the socialist left faction of the Labor Party, has a record of progressive social policy ranging from Victoria being the first state to legalise voluntary assisted dying, decriminalising sex work and starting treaty negotiations with First Australians. 
   
  The Bad
  Dictator Dan, as known to his many critics, has many controversies to his name. As Premier, outlets have remembered him as the ‘controversial’ Premier Daniel Andrews. He was so unpopular in every election he won, that he did so with an even more significant margin than the last. Despite being the Newscorp pariah for allowing safe-injecting rooms and voluntary assisted dying, Dan brushed them aside and spoke directly to his now one million Facebook followers, 443,000 X (nee Twitter) followers and 223,000 Instagram followers. 
  Journalists across the political spectrum point to Dan’s refusal to conduct regular one-on-one interviews. Virginia Trioli said on Media Watch that it was a “total cold war, and it seemed you only got the premier if you cut a deal about what you would or wouldn’t ask.” Neil Mitchel from 3AW didn’t get the premier on his show for six years and called him an “autocrat.”
  Numerous other scandals unfolded during Dan’s tenure, such as the “red shirts”’ scandal of 2014, harsh public housing tower lockdowns and the debt levels now at $135.5 billion, the highest of any state, but at least there’s now less level crossings!. The Commonwealth Games were also due to be held in Victoria in 2026, across regional areas, which would see new sporting infrastructure in lovely Ballarat, Geelong, Bendigo and Gippsland .Now even if you think the Commonwealth Games are just a shitty Olympics for countries with the pleasure of being colonised by the UK, you can still be mad that the Victorian taxpayer will pay hundreds of millions to the organisers because Dan couldn’t stomach putting on the thing. 
  Then there was COVID-19. Dan did lockdowns like no one else in the world. Between March 2020 and October 2021, Victorians, but mostly Melbournians, spent 267 days in lockdown, more than any other city in the world, including the mammoth 111-day lockdown from July 8 to October 27 2020. While the anti-vaxxers with upside-down Australian flags couldn’t take Andrews down, The Herald Sun, quite audaciously, chose to publish a story claiming that instead, some stairs in the Morning Peninsula “took down” the Premier. Andrews was severely injured following this incident but returned to the role of Premier after recovering.
   

  “Can anyone tell me what the point of this story is? Anyone?…
  Are you going to interview the stairs next ?”@DanielAndrewsMP response 👏👏👏👏👏
  to this 👇 pic.twitter.com/WHslARRBaE
  — Julia Banks (@juliahbanks) November 6, 2022

  The Ugly

  To conclude, Dan was the Premier for a bloody long time. The guy built shit and passed a bunch of legislation, but he paid for it without raising hella taxes, so the debt looks really bad on paper. In the long term, he will go down as a successful politician who built stuff and showed how you can be progressive but be electable as long as you build stuff and keep your message simple and to the point. Lastly, though, his most important legacy will be telling Victorians to just get on the beers, so cheers for that, Dan.

  An obituary to the saviour of Victoria, our dearly departed supreme leader dictator, I mean Premier Daniel Andrews.

  Jasper Harris

• Not Confident Talking Dirty? History Helps!

  October 2, 2022 7:17 pm Comments Off on Not Confident Talking Dirty? History Helps!

  As someone who makes a habit of verbally degrading those around me, I find dirty talking effortless. If a partner asks me to, I can pretty much just improv it. If they like to be shamed: “you’ve got terrible financial management and you spend way too much on online shopping” or maybe, “your grandma has been such an important person in your life and you don’t call her nearly enough given everything she has done for you.” Or if they want me to put myself down… “I only ever won the participation ribbons in little athletics, never a real one” or perhaps, “I once accidentally gave a homeless man slightly more money than I intended to and I awkwardly asked for some of it back.”And then, 99% of the time, they orgasm explosively. 
   
  But not all of you are as lucky as myself, a sage and sensual wordsmith. So to make the most of your sexy times, I have compiled a short collection of my favourite naughty whisperings from famous historical figures, to get your creative and other juices flowing. There’s a line for every sticky situation you could possibly end up in! 
   
   
   
  “I am the punishment of God… If you had not committed great sins, God would not have sent a punishment like me upon you.”
  — Genghis Khan 
   
  Great way to set the tone when you know they want to be punished like Daddy Genghis punished the Khwarazmian Empire for killing his emissaries.  
   
  “Preparation, I have often said, is rightly two-thirds of any venture.”
  — Amelia Earhart 
   
  Ever had a sexual partner get a little excited and rush past the foreplay? Next time, bring out this gem of a quote to gently steer them back in the right direction.  For bonus points, if you ever find yourself in a premature ejaculation type situation, “Anticipation, I suppose, sometimes exceeds realization.” Thanks Amelia! 
   
  “Here I fuck, for I can do no other.”
  — Martin Luther 
   
  YASS, sex positive Reformist king!!! 
   
  “The greatest glory in living lies not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.”
  — Nelson Mandela 
   
  Do you or a partner have trouble staying hard? Remember this great line for when a quick pep talk is necessary. 
   
  “Finger lickin’ good.”
  — Colonel Sanders 
   
  If you say this to someone whilst performing oral sex on them, they will cum so hard they cry.
   
  “Life is a succession of lessons which must be lived to be understood.”
  — Ralph Waldo Emerson 
   
  Forget to put a towel down and got period blood everywhere? Use this quote to lend the whole thing a vague air of meaningfulness.  
   
   
   
  “Life is trying things to see if they work.”
  — Ray Bradbury 
   
  We’ve all sucked someone’s toes and then had to sit there awkwardly afterwards with the obvious fact that neither of us were actually into it. Now, you know exactly what to say to explain yourself, freak! 
   
  “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
  — Maya Angelou 
   
  Had a one-night stand and in the morning one or both of you can’t remember the other’s name? Hit them with this one on the way out to lend some grace to your exit. 
   
   
  “Hey, don’t look at me. Eat my tits!”
  — Borat Sagdiyev 
   
  Sometimes in the bedroom, it’s best to be direct! 
   
  “Nothing is impossible, the word itself says, ‘I’m possible!”
  — Audrey Hepburn 
   
  Unsure how to get that big mac truck parked in that little garage? Spruce up your willpower and determination with this handy quote! And lube. 
   
  “It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop.”
  — Confucius 
   
  For when your partner is getting tired and you need to whisper a little morale boost to keep their ocean in motion.  
   
   
  “If you’re offered a seat on a rocket ship, don’t ask what seat! Just get on.”
  — Sheryl Sandberg 
   
  For when there’s some hesitancy about the strap on. 
   
  “I would rather die of passion than of boredom.”
  — Vincent Van Gogh 
   
  For when you’re chasing multiple orgasm glory and your partner starts voicing concerns about your hydration levels. 
   
  “Dreaming, after all, is a form of planning.”
  — Gloria Steinem 
   
  Unsure how to explain your wet dream to the person who woke up next to you? Turn this embarrassing incident into some raunchy foreplay with one simple quote! 
   
  “Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So, throw off the bowlines, sail away from safe harbor, catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore, Dream, Discover”.
  — Mark Twain 
   
  Anal. 
   
   
   
  Originally published in Woroni Vol. 72 Issue 5 ‘Cum As You Are’
   
  Think your name would look good in print? Woroni is always open for submissions. Email write@woroni.com.au with a pitch or draft. You can find more info on submitting here.

  Elroy James

• Field Notes: Daytripping to Sydney

  September 27, 2022 7:30 pm Comments Off on Field Notes: Daytripping to Sydney

  For your reading pleasure, we here at Woroni put together a team of elite psychonauts to blast off in the magical place where the system of transportation first took root in the golden soil girt by sea that we now call Australia. Below is a direct copy of the field notes from that day:
  12:00
  I know mushrooms are no joke, because like many young men doing an Arts degree, I frequently masturbate to the writings of Hunter S. Thompson and the Joe Rogan podcast — ideally, both at once. As such, I understand starting relatively early in the day is imperative, lest darkness descend on the earth before you do from your high, which any seasoned tripper will tell you, is bahd vibez mahhn. We head out to meet the dealer.
  12:45
  The closest I will ever feel to the elephants Hannibal made cross the Alps was traversing the barely navigable roads and density of traffic in Sydney. We spend 45 minutes stuck in gridlock, yelling at each other for yelling at each other for making wrong turns, or simply because it feels better to scream audibly rather than internally. I remember reading that most of Hannibal’s elephants died freezing and starving; I mentally begin comparing the desirability of that with the genuine and seemingly immediate risk of death by crushing boredom.
  This is not very rock n’ roll.
  13:00
  We pick up our mushrooms from a former private schoolboy who now wears hemp and rants about chemtrails. Eventually, to keep things moving we mentioned we were all triple vaxxed and he expeditiously concluded our transaction. Having received our contraband, we pop half down the hatch immediately. Surprisingly, they taste pretty good! Finally, I feel the tension of our rocky start to the day ooze out of me, as the delicious umami flavour oozes in. I know today will be a good day.
   
  14:00
  None of us can feel even a hint of anything trippy, except Michaela, but after waiting a bit longer to see if she’d wig, we realised that she was just hitting her vape too hard out of anticipation and getting headspins. We look at the mushies and realise that our hemp-wearing plug has partaken in the iconic Sydney tradition of ripping punters off, and sold us shiitake mushrooms.
  15:00
  Eventually, after messaging everyone we could find on Insta, Tinder etc., someone on Wickr said they could hook us up! When CremeBrulee69 comes through he seems to be angling for an invite, but we don’t really know him so we fuck him off. These sorts of advances are definitely the main argument for legalising and regulating the sale of recreational drugs, but that’s neither here nor there, because we eat the mushies and LESGOOOO!!
  15:40
  Still nothing. Really hope we haven’t been ripped off again. FML.
  16:00
  Oh shit oh shit OH SHIT I need to fucking sit down and just BREATHE oh my fucketyfuckingfuckfaceofafuckerinofackenfckenfkucfk—
  17:00
  Phew! That’s better! The come up was quite intense, but now that we’ve found a quiet place along the cliffs between Bondi and Bronte to watch the sunset we are all a bit more relaxed and connected to the universe. Hahaha Jesse just made the funniest call about how it’s a quiet place and like there’s that movie the quiet place with Jon Hamm or whoever from The Office, and like I dunno how to explain it but it was just hysterical hahaha this is the best day EVER!
  That is, until we spy a horde of wild influencers taking advantage of the golden hour seascape to get a pic for the gram on the cliffs and realise that a) the sunset is in the other direction, and b) we are very possibly surrounded by soulless vampires who are going to turn on us and drain us of our life-force to preserve and enhance themselves at any moment!
  The panic subsides a little as we anxiously come to the conclusions that a) it’s okay the sunset itself is behind us because we’re looking out at the ocean which is still beautiful in this light and besides it’s probably not good to stare directly into the sun but idk maybe that’s just something they tell you as a kid, like how weed is addictive or not to talk to strangers, someone Google it, and b) these vampires would never suck our blood it probably has too many calories for them, their performance enhancers definitely come in the powdered form and have a name that rhymes with famous Biblical fratricide, Cain. Fuck, everyone who follows or was raised in one of the Abrahamic faiths would know that cunt killed his brother aye. GOAT fratricide for sure.
  As the clouds darken from powdered pink into deepening hues of purple, we relax and listen as the sounds of our breathing synchronise with the waves lapping against the rocks below.
  We are going to have the sickest night ever.
  18:00
  Quick note to remind myself to get the others to pay me back for buying the McFlurry to get that junkie at the Kings Cross Maccas to fuck off.
   19:00
  In line at… the Ivy? Feeling a little overwhelmed by the crowd and the darkness. Oh, the darkness.
   22:00
  AYEEE WE GOT IN!
   22:30
  This godforsaken place makes Dante’s Inferno seem like it had a charming collection of characters. Every person I bump into seems to be a poorly cast extra from the TV spin-off of American Psycho, which for some reason features a lot more sleeve tattoos than the source material. I’m too rooted to keep going with these references but, fuck this noise.
   23:30
  Lost my friends. Someone was dragging me to the casino but luckily for me I managed to get away before they could drag me into that bloated sucking asshole of a place. I’d rather fist fight Mike Baird at a Kings School reunion than give those fucks any of my money.
  Unluckily for the person who was dragging me there, I was only able to get away because they got sucker punched when we made a pit stop for kebabs. I would have intervened but one of the other bystanders assured me that being assaulted by a roided up fuckwit was local tradition and it’s best to let it unfold organically. I ran just in case they got back up and still wanted me to go to the casino with them.
   
  00:00
  Having never received my kebab (!), I consider going to the Indian kebab joint up Oxford St near the Unicorn. Unfortunately, despite it being Sydney’s one redeeming feature, after this odyssey of a day, it is simply too far. Physically and mentally broken, I crawl to one of the alcoves in the Pitt St vicinity of Central Station. Unexpectedly, but to my relief, all my friends from Canberra are already there. We hunker down until the first Murrays bus in the morning, and with it the opportunity to escape this fetid sore cosplaying as a city.

  Anonymous

• Follow the Fellows (Brick) Road

  March 7, 2022 6:54 pm Comments Off on Follow the Fellows (Brick) Road

  The Wizard of Oz, starring Judy Garland, is a fantasy musical in which a frightened little girl finds herself in an unfamiliar place and bands together with a few lovable freaks.
  For first-years, your introduction to university life is in many ways going to parallel the iconic 1939 film; your first year will certainly feel, at times, like being hit in the face by a midwestern farmhouse. In other ways, it will be decidedly different. For example, the only way you’ll find a gold-paved road on campus is if our dear Chancellor can kick her pricey office-purchasing habit. While it might be optimistic to assume you’ll make three friends, I nonetheless advise you to link arms with whoever you can, whistle a jaunty tune, and begin skipping towards the Emerald City. If you can just get that testamur, adorned with its ruby-red seal, you’ll be on your way home.
  Brains will undoubtedly be the first obstacle you encounter. Presumably, you have some brains. At the very least, I say with some certainty, you are literate. No doubt you’ve been fairly academically successful thus far. Hopefully, it is your intention to acquire more brains throughout your degree, or at the very least break even between rigorous study and rampant alcoholism. It is difficult to definitively say which students are the smartest among us; perhaps the cargo-short-clad science students, or the suited-and-booted humanities cohort. Just take heed to avoid the unequivocal academic nadir inhabited by whoever actually still cares about their ATAR score.
  Heart, too, will inevitably hold sway over your university career. Matters of the heart tend to occupy your time with the realisation of unfettered freedom and a wide pool of bedfellows. Obviously, this may be less applicable to off-campus students, but you should have known that the savings in rent come at the cost of having no fun. To the full citizens of campus, it is my advice that you tailor your advances for the best results.
  An interesting tote bag or tasteful piercing is always a good icebreaker for Arts students. You may then effortlessly segue to the topic of minimum-wage work and build a truly unbreakable bond. Law students are, without exception, egomaniacal and emotionally stunted; best ingratiate yourself by means of sickly, sycophantic devotion. Psychology students are often those most in need of mental help, so a sympathetic ear is priceless. Business and economics students love bright colours, flashing lights, and crayons can prevent a tantrum if they get ornery. Maths, engineering, natural sciences; often the mere act of you, a living, breathing, real person talking to them is more than enough to pique their interest.
  Courage, though, is perhaps the most important trait of all. You know you’re not a genius, and you’ll quickly feel like an idiot the second you step into a lecture theatre. Classes will sooner or later be hard. You will bear witness to how your fellow students handle the myriad challenges of university life better than you. They’ll find courses easier. They’ll manage their time better. They’ll easily integrate work, study, and domestic tasks. They’ll remember to call their mothers more often. But there is a secret, and at the risk of being trite I’ll tell you; it’s all bullshit.
  Everyone struggles; university can be a seismic change. For some, it’s nothing more than education in a different building, but for many it’s the radical upheaval of every norm once relied on to structure their life. Different people, a different city, a different home. A new, intimidating set of academic standards to rise to. Many times you will wonder whether you have enough brains, or enough heart, or even the courage to continue.
  To feel some form of imposter syndrome is normal, even expected. Stress and anxiety, also to be expected. But you will become courageous, and that might be the most important thing you do here. Certainly more important than bar hopping, but maybe even more important than the technical skills you acquire. Because university is a holistic process. Every day you spend here you will undoubtedly evolve more and more into the person you long to become. Each word read will make you more analytical, each person you meet will make you more affable, and each adversity you overcome, however minor, will make you stronger. And while lingering self-doubt might never fully disappear, one day you will find yourself with enough skill and experience to sincerely say; “I am a competent individual, and I bring value to the world.” When it inevitably comes time to face a wicked witch or loud-mouthed charlatan, you’ll be ready.
  So be sure to indulge in everything to offer, however trivial it may seem. Find that equilibrium between comfort and taking it seriously. Be punctual to lectures. Find a group of people to do dumb things with. Spend eight straight hours studying in the library. Go out drinking on a Thursday and show up trashed to a Friday tutorial. Maybe join a club or something.
  Welcome to ANU. You’re not in Kansas anymore.

  Chris Austin

• Breaking News: Monarchy Might Not Be All Good

  March 22, 2021 1:06 pm Comments Off on Breaking News: Monarchy Might Not Be All Good

  In a truly bizarre turn of events, the British Monarchy has been exposed as being somewhat problematic. Over the past week, acclaimed actress Meghan Markle and Prince Harry released an interview with Oprah Winfrey. In their conversation, it was shockingly exposed that the Royal Family are not the moral paragons we always thought they were.
  Markle explained how she was bullied by the Crown and the colluding press to the point of feeling suicidal. The mistreatment of outsiders who threaten the traditions of the British monarchy is definitely completely new and unprecedented and not in any way a parallel of the treatment of the late Princess Diana. Markle further shocked the world by suggesting that her race was problematised by the same family who basically invented colonisation. Is it possible that they haven’t embraced a black American common woman with open arms?
  While Liz and the gang have briefly responded in a three sentence statement characterising the matter as one to be ‘addressed by the family privately’, we expect that they really appreciate the outpouring of love from the commoners online.  How the family moves on from this defamatory interview is anyone’s guess. One source close to the palace thinks there might be another child abuse scandal they could dig up to stabilise their image as the last scandal had almost no long term impact on their public support. Another source thinks they will try and get Pippa married to a duke or something so we can all talk about her arse again.

  Katie Sproule

• Scotty’s 2021 Diary- Leaked

  March 7, 2021 7:17 pm Comments Off on Scotty’s 2021 Diary- Leaked

  Dear Diary, 
  Today was NOT a good day ::(((( 
  I got made fun of because I said assaulting women was bad. Wtf???????? Do the haters think it is good?????????? 
  Apparently some people think I should have known that assault was bad without asking Jenny or thinking about my daughters…. What do they know? Isn’t it good to learn new things? To challenge yourself? #keepmovingforward
  Anyway, I think this might be a big issue – the whole gendered violence and harassment thing. I’ve decided to put it on my “to fix” list for next week. I’m not sure how yet but we can probably get to the bottom of it if we work hard, pray harder. 
  That’s it for now I think. Bed time! 
  Love from Scotty. 
  P.S – Someone suggested raising Centrelink by a whole $3? Sounds a bit outlandish but I might sleep on it…
  P.P.S- I must remember to tell my EA to schedule a meeting with Christian’s office too….

  Katie Sproule