The Very Last Edition of the Salient Notes

(Round 1)

Fuck what a marathon effort these Salient notes are going to be, the writer says to himself looking at the huge page of names on the table beside the type writer.

John Ryall is still alive although one is fooled by impressions gained by observing this gent who has not only stamina but a long [unclear: strawn] face and multiple coronary thrombosis. The new heavy weight champion. David "I was a nine stone wealking" Murray prepares himself for the special long distance journalism event.

Our two main [unclear: typesetters] this [unclear: year] have been Pat Bartle (first half) and Pat Starkey (second [unclear: narr]). [unclear: althoough] you can often be fooled by thinking that they are the same person. Ex-heavyweights Bruce Robinson and Roger Steele flexed their mental sinews while Rose Desmond hid behind her smoke screen in the library interspersed with visits to the Salient Office and cafe.

El Presidente Lindy Cassidy (77) and Gyles Beckford (76) threw their weight about in the office, often upsetting the people who hang round light tables, namely Lynn Peck and Lionel Klee (also known for developing and fixing).

The 9 Moir St. clique although fraught with ideologies) struggle managed a cross town traverse to Varisty and their members Gerard Couper, John Bowden. Ann Elborn, Jo Lowe, Derrick Fikkers (sometimes), were seen at times and in the strangest placet. Neil Gray and his old sparring partner Kropotkin, managed to see out the year as did Gillian Goodger. L.D. Trotsky and the ice pick brigade.

The ever-lasting student club this year consisted of Warwyck Dewe, David Cunningham, Robert Lithgow and K.B. O'Brien. One time sex-pot Mark Sainsbury (now a pensioned off student politician like Kev Swann. Steve Underwood and the late General Franco - no relation to Gramsci). Bernard Randall provided the quality control but not on this edition of Salient notes.

Last weeks hedghogs returned for more, as did Rachel Scott still recovering from a dose of red fever she received in July. The working class revolution section of Salient was ably led this year by Paul Tollich. Mat Nolan, Paul Swain. Kingi. Rov. Z.K. Muggleton-Spoffin and trendy lefty Steve Ashby

Although it is strictly not Salient policy to adopt a tax attitude toward creeping capitalist enterprise, our sincere thanks must go to Brian Farrington, Garry Mead and all the boys and girls of Wanganui Newspapers we well as Fred, Harry and Jim from NZR (long may it live - call that living?) and Bob and Dick from NAC.

Tech. ed. (when we saw him) as the [unclear: max] with the lovely view of Wellington (and all it brings) from his Everton Hall apartment yes folks, that wizz kid of screen, stage and law library Mike Stephens. Brian Taylor successfully evaded the bunching tactics of Aruna Amarasuriva, and Garv Henderson, our club and earlier maligned SRC reporter. It would not be appropriate to mention Mac here as he ranks with Martin Hegel as the most damage done in the history of human philosophy.

The mystery celebrity this year was a certain weed in mind and taste although his real name is John Henderson of 34 MacDonald Cres. The final blow to proletarian ideology was due to Anne MacDwyer, Tom Appelton. Martin Allison, Liz Riddiford and Philip Tree. Suspicious murmurs of counter-revolution were uttered from Mike Dew, Emmanuel Kalefatelis. Gerard Van Boheman and Susan Arndt.

The race of the year would have to go the the mysterious Big Lenny (who has all the answers) - but wait, "they're making a race of it", screams Pat O'Dea.

Into the fifty-third baton change and its still sometime rock reviews editor Ben Smith out in front, hastily pursued by Katy Corner, who stops every so often to pick up the does that Ben is dropping along the [unclear: purple] carpet. While Jean Paul Sartre, God, Rosa. [unclear: Luxemborg] and Patrick [unclear: Mulrennan] sip tea and speculate on the eventual winner, two masked bandits leap out from behind Angela Belich's model of the New Zealand state machine and kidnap the grateful Smith. However, it appears from here that the masked bandits are none other than Harold Merriman and Richard Mays, well-known employees of the wily Anthony "give me a dollar and I'll give you a theory" Ward, who is rumoured to have his fortune placed on David Buxton.

And it looks fairly good for Buxton as they cross the 70 kilometre mark. His sedan chair is quaking under the force exerted by Don Carson. David Tripe, John Blineoe. Peter Franks, Lisa Sacksen, and Terry Auld.(whipping the others along from behind), but the sturdy Franks legs have a lot of mileage in them yet Henry Isaacs is making a good showing from second position before moving back to Barbara McElwee. Sue Jarvis, Mark Derby. David Newton, Simon Wilson and Elsje and Petra Van den Munckhof, who seems to be having trouble with their clogs (bloody Dutch!).

But lady luck has overtaken Isaacs, who has drowned in a bog, after being foolishly lured off the track by Big Mick and the staff of the Seven Seas Bar. Reports from the scene suggest that Vice Pope Eric. R .D. Muldoon, and Monty Python were definitely Involved and that Henry could have been saved had Mike Hill and the boys at Clermont Terrace decided to pull him out rather than forcing him to fill in a questionnaire first.

And it's on to the last baton change. Anthony Ward has made another appearance dressed as Dave Stott much to the distress of Leigh Thomson who was heard to exclaim "You're not fooling anyone you know'" While Robert Pui and Neil Howe cart Ward off the course Chris Wilson bounds into the lead, his thin athletic body bouncing along... [unclear: neuo], he's got (om Duggan under his arm.... put him down! And with that he's thrown Tom back to the unsuspecting Robert Toothill who is being rapidly overtaken by the Chris Chan/David Hyams collective.

But the race could be ruined as they approach the bell lap....Gary Lewis has asked God to bring the rain down, and much to the hilarity of Mao Tse lung. Wang Hung wen. Hua Kuo Feng and a disguised Teng Hsaio-Ping, the sun has burst through the clouds.

Nothing can stop Chris Wilson now as he sprints towards the finishing line outside the Nanking Cafe. Martin Doyle. Robert Wolfe and Kelvin Ratnam spurred on by Charles Crothers are giving it everything, but it's not going to be good enough. But wail.....a Darke (of the Anne Marie variety) shadow has come over the track.......Wilson is slowing down..... Dave Allen, Marie Russell and Neil Rowe stare in amazement....what is it? It's not Mohammed All nor Ken Norton, nor Heindrich Himmler... its....its....yes, its Leome Morris who has sprinted past the rest of the field and Is dumbing up Chris Wilson's back, on to his head. Kung-fu kicks John McBride, and is off to the finish line. Leonie Morris - glorious in victory performs a special lap of the field, and comes back towards the Salient Office (from where the race has been monitored).

The advice for all you aspiring student heavies to that if you want to get yourself in the news, want to keep ahead of the rest of the field and get a few units at the same lime join Salient.