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Salient. Victoria University Student Newspaper. Vol 34 no. 17. September 22 1971

The Cure

The Cure

One morning a few weeks ago I woke up feeling lousy. I felt so lousy lying in bed that I got up, had a foul walk to the bathroom and took a putrid shower and a rotten crap. I bet if I'd had them separately I still would have felt lousy.

The first cup of coffee tasted like tobacco juice and the first cigarette went down like smouldering coffee grounds. I looked out the window and it looked a filthy day. Fresh out of adjectives and still feeling lousy I took stock of the whole situation and rang my shrink.

"Doc" I said "I feel bad" I feel like a bastard at a family reunion. I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can't fuck and I just feelexcruciatingly nauseatingly and absobloodly s'welp me lousy."

There was a silence at the other end of the phone while the shrink pulled relectively on his gum. "Fifteen A" said the shrink, "and leave your matches with the partially qualified ex-army physchiatric nurse."

"The one who looks like Humphrey Bogart" I asked (still feeling foul).

"The one with the wart on his knuckle" said the shrink. "It's got two black hairs growing out of it, is three centimeters in circumference and is in a state of cellular ferment, due to the state of the economy and the number of pinky tits that I dream about during my morning tea break."

Cartoon of police chasing three men with sign saying: Free Dope