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Salient. Victoria University Students' Paper. Vol. 26, No. 6. Tuesday, June 4, 1963

Around The Campus

Around The Campus

Went to my first Executive meeting the other night and I can't say I was very brought on by it. Peter Blizard holed me up in the Cafe and started railing about everything In general; said he liked my column, best in Salient (this I like, stimulation of the superego). Then he really got down to ripping up Executive. Now I, a product of beery, decrepit Weir, am, of course, suspicious of all varsity politicians, but there was something touching about his eager earnestness. I felt a bit guilty sitting there, not caring a damn about student politics.

Just lately. I have been pestered, nay, harried to death, by people trying to get in this column. I am amused by tales of clots falling in the Kelburn fountain, or being chased across the park by the groundsman in their underpants, although I would point out that if one wanted to get caught with his trousers down, there are far better places than Kelburn Park. I take exception, however, to helpful hints on how to improve my column.

I did something rash last night. I swore off alcoholic liquor for the whole of the second term! Those of you who know me will appreciate the dread import of this decision, how its ramifications will manifest themselves as I move through the baroque half world of varsity life. No more rum and cokes; no more cheery words with the slob who spills his ale upon me; no more the Midland's scrum-packed Saturday night, the fighting to get your grog; the safari to some broken-down flat in a mountainous suburb, the chorus line of dental nurses along the wall, each of whom has to be home by eleven; Just a lemonade please, and yes, I do have a mother, thank you. 'Tis a hard world!

A strong directive from the Vice-Chancellor sort of emasculated Weir's capping, but the boys still had their fun. Footprints mysteriously appeared around statues and so did the gendarmerie. One intrepid fresher hung his mother's bra from the Seddon statue, only to have it removed by a copper with a thing about lingerie. The police also said a resident of the cemetery had complained of the noise. They dragged the Weir capping controller out of bed at four in the morning; seems they regarded him as the brains behind every clandestine operation in the city. Forgive me though for harking back to the glorious days of 1961; the chariot race through "Ben Hur" and the great hostel raids. Them were the days!

Had lunch in the George the other day; the food was excellent, but when I went for another jug the barmaid looked at me as if I was a potential gigolo and asked my age. What a Blasted cheek! Me, El Crud being asked my age by some mere oar-room bint. "Twelve," I said, "but I'm quite grown up for my age." It must be my eyes that bring them on so much.