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Salient. An Organ of Student Opinion at Victoria College, Wellington, N.Z. Vol 6, No. 6. May 26, 1943



Sad to relate, there still remains at this college a sub-hominoid species of student whose main delight is in the organised and wholesale destruction of the enojoyment of others. Their activities are in no way limited to joyous and riotous celebration on appropriate occasions, in itself a pleasant occupation, but extend into the crude and obvious channel of the practical Joke. Even the practical Joke, when applied by a man of wit and ingenuity, can he a thing of beauty, a delight to watch. But in the hands of these morons . . . my god!

Their Work.

The revue had but five minutes to-run, upstairs the floor was ready, downstairs the band was waiting—for the ballet to change, officially. When, tired of pausing on the heels of ballerinas, the saxophone wandered into the sanctum, it was to be engulfed in a white murk of opaquity—visibility about a foot. Flash-powder was the answer, set off by these daughters of iniquity (not the ballet) in the centre of the floor.

Doors and windows were wrenched open, and although, by the law of the cussedness of things, Wellington was blessed with a windless night things soon cleared sufficiently for the band to see their fingers, and therefore to play—stout fellers. Their heroic efforts were soon cut short however, by tear gas this time, and disgruntled, they went home.

Thus the student body has to thank these flap-eared hooligans for the following things:
(a)The loss of the goodwill of our regular orchestra, one of the very few still functioning in the city. By virtue of this. Tournament Ball came within an ace of being either cancelled or being provided with recorded music alone;
(b)Loss of the orchestra's fee;
(c)Disruption of the After-Revue Dance—but for the blood and sweat of a few public-spirited citizens it would have been complete;
(d)Bleary eyes and raw throats—too much tear gas.

Are we grateful? No!

Of the culprits, one woman alone is known. The social committee are considering a full report to Sir Thomas, which would probably lead to expulsion. A bit severe, perhaps, but they have to put the brakes on somehow.

V.U.C. Dance Band

While our various chemical experts were applying antidotes upstairs, Norm Cummings, a veritable pianistic gymnast, sailed into action below with an impromptu collection of instrumentalists—drums, clarinet, and Dickie Daniell's squeeze bag. Made quite a good job of it, too, sufficiently so to continue the dance when it later returned upstairs. More power to their elbows.

There was but one further incident to enliven the evening. A short brawl between a crew of Weir House strongarma and a number of disgruntled dancers who, rightly or wrongly, held them to blame for preceding events. The clash was brief but spirited, entailing use of a hose—one casualty.

All in all, an interesting evening, if liable to have unpleasant consequences for the moving spirits. So let it be!