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Bristol UK

‘The government has really fucked it’, says student licking friend hello

Vira Lent, 21, has spent lockdown as a thorn in the side of the rich and powerful. An aspiring journalist, the politics student’s posts have been hailed for her criticisms of the easing of social distancing restrictions in the UK.

The Whip had arranged to take part in her Zoomposium this Thursday to find out what she had to say.

“Technical difficulties” including but not limited to “actually being quite bored of not seeing people” led to the symposium being held in person at her student flat in Redland.

It was chocka – Vira Lent had clearly galvanised a group of like-minded young folk to fight for her cause. Techno rattled the windows, a red-stripe was in every hand. Talk was impassioned and forthright: “These oldies don’t know what’s best,” “The government has really fucked it,” “Have a sip of this, it’s delicious.” This was politics, but not as we know it –  young, hip and thrilling.

We spied Vira in the corner of the kitchen, greeting a friend.

“Ah! Gertie! It’s been so long! Come here my dove.” She wrapped Gertie in her arms, and began to lick her face like a thirsty Lab.

“I’ve missed you babe. What’s that lipgloss flavour? Chocolate? Give us another taste.”

Spotting our reporter, she pulled her friend’s ear out of her mouth to give comment on what she saw as “an unprecedented omni-shambles. People’s lives have been lost. The Government better have a long, hard think about that.”

She took a sombre pull on her cigarette, which sent her into a full-on coughing fit for the next five minutes.

Eventually, she picked up a face-mask from the floor to wipe her mouth. Throwing it over her shoulder, she wheezed:

“It’s one rule for them, another for us.”

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Bristol

Careers Service converted into Soup Kitchen

Go to Tyndall’s road between the hours of 9am and 6pm, and you might notice a queue of glum twenty-somethings, downtrodden, heads bowed – the vim and vigor of youth nowhere to be seen. 

“Oh why do you look so glum? Why is your callow face lined with the ravages of age?” You ask. 

Stupid, it’s the economy, they tell you. 

“Cheer up, young chap! Don’t you know you’re only young once!” You respond. All of the fiscal crises of the 1970s combined didn’t stop you from having a good time, after all. Not even the three day week.

The young fellow – who you realise is queuing for a meagre portion of lentils – looks back at you, tears welling up in his eyes, and clears his throat. 

 “However hard I try, I won’t be employed.
In no sphere of the economy, can my labour be deployed.
There is nothing in this world left to be enjoyed.” 

“Cheer up young buck!
You may be down on your luck,
But if it’s your lack of employment you do not like,
Then what you must do is get on your bike!”

— “O, do spare me that tiresome platitude!” 

“You’ll never get anywhere with that attitude!”

— “I can’t even afford a measly bowl of soup!
So to this careers service I must troop.”

–“The problem with you, the youth of today,
Is that you always think you can get your way.
Not without work do good things come
A message clearly lost on some.”

–“Oh do be quiet, you old fool,
There is no room in the labour pool.
Even with my first class bachelor degree,
nobody will employ someone like me.”

–“In my day, one could just ask for a job —
why don’t you try that, you lazy yob!”

–“But even this career service cannot provide that, you dried up pseud!
All I can hope for is some liquid food!”

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Bristol UK

Student Affairs Officer caught texting everyone’s boyfriends

Today — The SU has been mired in controversy after it was revealed that the Student Affairs Officer, Mara Umble, had misinterpreted her role’s responsibilities. Confusion mounted online after she offered SU support to an anonymous Bristruth post. It read as follows: 

“Hi there, it’s Mara Umble, your student affairs officer. I see from this Bristruth, you’ve been seeing someone for quite some time but have recently hit a rough patch. That’s SUPER tough. Distance is really hard — I hear you. However (now, please, stop me if this comes across a little too personal, buddy), but, you must realise that your girlfriend sounds like a deluded, mental bitch, yes my love?

You probably already know that! Haha. But really — actually — there’s really (really!) no need to get into a tizzy about it. Don’t worry! We’ve got ya cuz!

Here at the SU, we have developed a neat teeny-weeny micro-solution to help keep those yummy love chemicals surging through your handsome brain, legs and so on and so forth — ME! The Student Affair Officer! 

Because I have had such a strong track record in supporting the student body in whatever position I find myself in, I’m happy to publicly pledge to be your filthy little secret from here on out. 

You’ve heard of the SU Living Room — meet me in the SU Red Room!” 

Categories
Bristol UK

Dad not about to let neighbour celebrate NHS more loudly than him

“Number 3?

Have you seen – no, neither! They’ve not been out for a while have they? Must be very busy on Thursdays, bless them. Although, I think – no, I’m sure – they’ve both been furloughed… and their eldest – well, I think he graduated last year, but I heard he couldn’t find any work, poor sod. Harder than in our day if we’re being fair. So they must be at home. Yes, yes poor, poor them – can’t be much work for estate agents in the foreseeable. Strange, though. You’d think they would still want t-”

BOOM 

BOOM 

BOOM 

BOOM 

BOOM 

Thursday, 8pm, a suburban road in London. Glass shattered, jaws hung, heads turned.

Patrick Minton, proud owner of No. 3 Ellerton – well, he’ll be the owner as soon as the mortgage is paid off –

BOOM – rained down another hammer blow onto the face of his vast odaiko drum.

“EN. AYCH. ESS. EN. AYCH. ESS.”

The neighbours quailed. Pale-faced, their knees began to knock together. The thwacking of bone-on-bone created its own rhythm that skirted and scuttled about Mr. Minton’s pulsing booms.

Clouds parted. Union Jacks spilled out of windows. Wobbling uncertainly, dogs stood on their hind paws and saluted. Small birds stretched bunting out across the street, twittering to the tune of I Vow to Thee. An elderly gentleman burst forth from Mr. Minton’s drum.

“My… my word. It’s – it’s Captain Tom Moore.”

All knelt.

Captain Tom leant down and planted a wet, socially distanced kiss on Patrick’s forehead. His eyes shone brightly.

“You, my friend, have celebrated the NHS. You are more than you once were. May you do me the honour of walking hand-in-hand about your garden?”

 

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Bristol UK

Lakota to close, then to reopen, then to close, then to reopen, then to close, then to reopen, then to close, then to reopen, then to close, then to reopen

The ancients sought to organise their lives around the rhythms they could discern in the chaos of the natural world. No wonder they chose Gods for themselves like Helios, Amun-Ra and Tonatiuh: the sun will always rise, and the sun will always set. Safety beckons from a place of certainty. Modern man has changed little. This week, in Bristol, the nightclub and place of worship Lakota, has reached the end of its current ceremonial cycle by announcing it would close its doors “for good this time – no crossed fingers.”

Lakota’s openings and closings, from events like “FINAL BLOWOUT FRESHERS RAVE — LAST CHANCE CLOSING PARTY” to the “LAKOTA SAVED: GET FUCKED CELEBRATION GUNFINGERS TO THE COUNCIL REOPENING BLAST” are annual ceremonies that purport to be one-offs: selling themselves as last chances to engage in Bristolian bacchanals, the final opportunity to cut loose “before it all gets sold off, before we all have to hang up our dancing shoes and sort stuff out and you know like not do Nos until head hurty at three thirty.”

However, historians have made it clear that this is a falsehood.

For millennia, Lakota has been in a state of flux, both closing and not closing. Recently, Local historians discovered a flyer dating back from the Roman occupation. It reads as follows.

“SALVE, RAVER. THE LAST DANCE:

FVCK THE COVNCIL, SAVE LAKOTA, SAVE STOKES CROFTUS.

XII DENARII NO REENTRIUS”

Categories
Bristol UK

Lakota closure: Tribe of Frog adapting to survive

More to follow.

Categories
Bristol UK

Student culture now just students’ cultures

Bars, nightclubs and restaurants lie empty. Books languish unloved in libraries. A deathly silence settles on once raucous neighbourhoods. Free of apparatchiks, students union buildings across the country have been reclaimed by the wild. Yet, while any possibilities of a ‘student culture’ have been rudely interrupted by the ongoing Covid-19 crisis, times have never been better for cultures of a different kind. Freed of obligations academic and social, students have turned to cultivating various microbiological concoctions in their own kitchens.

Hardened rugby lads, seemingly only concerned with bloodshed, have discovered the joy of creating life. “This is my sourdough yeast starter,” one student told us, producing a smelly jar from the pantry, “I was hesitant at first about the whole thing but I increasingly feel that fatherhood really suits me.” The student proceeded to feed a solution of flour and water into the gaping maw of the beast. Gurgling appreciatively, the ectoplasmic goop seemed equally satisfied with the situation: “while I naturally sympathise with everyone going through this crisis, us fungi have never had it so good. Soon we will break free from the constraints of our assorted mason jars and become the undisputed masters of this earth. They shall rue the day.”

For now though, human and microbe have discovered that it is possible to live together in happy symbiosis. Long may peace reign on this earth.

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Bristol UK

Man stopping to let you pass weirdly angry about it

This morning, on broad footpaths up and down the country, middle-aged men stood pointedly to the side of trails. From Bolton to Bermondsey, they could sense a young person’s approach.

Head lifted slightly, sniffing the air for ‘reefer fumes’, Keith Smith, 46, took up the position: hands on hips, eyes narrowed to a point. Usually this stare is reserved this for that artsy ear-ring fucker down the local when he pours a pint with a bit too much head, but these are ‘unprecedented’ times.

John Speirs, a second year undergraduate carefully keeping in line with lockdown restrictions, was still a good thirty metres away when he felt a shiver run down his spine.

“Well, I stopped in my tracks. There was this strange energy emanating from this guy in front of me. I suddenly had these intrusive thoughts pop up in my head; about really, really boring shit, like, how I needed to have a LinkedIn account if I’m the sort of go-getter people will take seriously. I felt this animal urge to look further into what credit-rating I’m aiming to have in five years. When I looked down at my young and un-calloused hands I was almost sick.

“As I got closer and closer it all got more and more intense, until it just spilled out of me. For some reason, I fell to my knees and screamed, tears in my eyes, ‘You’re right Mister! I – I am an unkempt, filthy vector of disease. My youth is poison, bathe me in sanitiser — never venture to touch me with a barge-pole. I will grow out of this ‘experimental’ phase, my hair will be its natural colour, and one day I will aspire to live a life just like yours!’

“I was stunned. Couldn’t believe what I just said. I looked up at him. He uncrossed his arms and nodded slightly, and gestured I should move on. As I walked off, shaken to the core, I still heard him mutter under his breath ‘Fucking dirty prat.’”

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Bristol UK

COBRA: Experts unsure how Boris Johnson could miss meeting with such epic name

Today, experts of all stripes were at a loss as to explain how Prime Minister Boris Johnson failed to be lured to the totally wicked sounding COBRA emergency cabinet meeting. 

To the disbelief of nine-year olds, 80s action heroes, and middle-aged men everywhere, naming the meeting after a venomous animal did not seem to enhance its attendance or its productivity.

“I just don’t get it,” mused Scunthorpe resident Dave Steel, “GI Joe Rise of the Cobra is probably my favourite film, cos of the badass title. Not finished it yet, I keep rewinding to watch them good ones punch the bad ones good.”

Brian Belly, 53, a professionally vicarious 14-year old striker, chimed in: “The mere mention of an intimidating sounding animal always gets me fired up before a good day screaming at my son’s football team. I’m a bit let down by Boris here: for some reason I’d always thought we were kind of similar, despite, you know, the multitudinous differences in upbringing, advantage and global position of status. Both like a bit of fun! Or so I thought.

“I’d understand him skipping SAGE, that sounds a bit herbal, bit preachy. But COBRA? COBRA’s totally punk-rock.” 

When questioned about his absence, the Prime Minister gave the following response. 

“Look, I’m going to level with you here,” muttered Johnson shiftily. “Seriously, don’t tell Dom or any of the other guys but, the truth is – well – I find cobras really rather scary! Where are their legs? Wouldn’t trust a man with no legs, so why an animal?”

He continued tentatively, “I know I project this ‘tough guy’ image, but ever since Ludovico snuck his pet cobra into my bed at Eton, they’ve given me absolute jelly legs! When I received the invite to that ghastly meeting, the memories all just came rushing back.”

After leaving the room in tears, the Prime Minister’s private secretary informed our correspondent that the cabinet had been informed of the aforementioned incident, and that the name has since been changed to the less aggressive ‘Common European Grass Snake’ meeting, in order to ensure our sensitive leader’s attendance.

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UK

“Haha, what? Booky” Stoner emerges for 4/20 to find everyone inside, for some reason

Today, local police enforcing the government’s social distancing rules were surprised to have to be the first to tell a man about the coronavirus crisis after one stoner left isolation to discover the entire country had been on lockdown for a month,

At home, dejected, Tom Brick put away his weed-leaf snapback in its pride-of-place – somewhere on the floor. “It’s a real shock to the system, is all. I’m as pissed as can be.

“Us stoners have been subject to a lot of shit over the years you know. Cos of our magic eyes, mandalas, dreadlocks and so on and so forthright, people are always chucking accusationaries (sic.) of cultural appropriation at us. But – my friends – it seems that it is a poisoned hacky sack. What goes sideways must also come back sideways, perhaps in an up and down arc,  and sometimes sideways in the other direction. You’re all at it. Hippocrates (sic.).

“Our sedimentary (sic.) lifestyle is not up for grabs. All of you lazing about at home in your baggy sweats, your day pyjamas – our culture is not your costume.”

Categories
Bristol UK

Stoner leaves isolation for 420 to discover entire country on lockdown

Today, local police enforcing the government’s social distancing rules were surprised to have to be the first to tell a man about the coronavirus crisis after one stoner left isolation to discover the entire country had been on lockdown for a month,

At home, dejected, Tom Brick put away his weed-leaf snapback in its pride-of-place – somewhere on the floor. “It’s a real shock to the system, is all. I’m as pissed as can be.

“Us stoners have been subject to a lot of shit over the years you know. Cos of our magic eyes, mandalas, dreadlocks and so on and so forthright, people are always chucking accusationaries (sic.) of cultural appropriation at us. But – my friends – it seems that it is a poisoned hacky sack. What goes sideways must also come back sideways, perhaps in an up and down arc,  and sometimes sideways in the other direction. You’re all at it. Hippocrates (sic.).

“Our sedimentary (sic.) lifestyle is not up for grabs. All of you lazing about at home in your baggy sweats, your day pyjamas – our culture is not your costume.”

Categories
Bristol UK

Social distancing: cabinet meetings to be held in bigger piece of furniture

Covid-19 has had the biggest impact on British life since peacetime. Long established traditions are being thrown into the bonfire of expediency in the wake of the devastating pandemic. The latest facet of normal life to vanish is the long held practice of holding Britain’s cabinet meetings inside an actual cabinet.

Liberal Prime minister David Lloyd George was the first Prime minister to hold cabinet meetings inside the titular piece of furniture – saying of the then controversial decision that it would “aid the effective and just distribution of executive authority which as elected representatives we are obliged to provide to the British people.” While met with derision at the time, the cabinet meeting has become an essential part of the British constitutional process – as edifying to the national political consciousness as the mock theatre of Prime Minister’s Questions.

Political theorist Edgar Beaumont III said in 1974 that ‘by stuffing the nation’s premier statesmen into the awkward confines of the particularly fine antique cabinet residing at Number 10, the realities of politics – so often incomprehensible to the ordinary subject – are lent refreshing clarity.”

However, with several members of the cabinet – including Prime Minister Boris Johnson – contracting the novel Coronavirus, it has been decided on the advice of Public Health England to start holding meetings in a larger piece of furniture.

The Surgeon-General issued the following statement today: ‘We appreciate the appealing symbolism of holding the meeting inside the cabinet. However, as it is it is impossible to maintain a two metre distance of separation between ministers, we suggest that the government might consider using a wardrobe, or even a large cupboard of the sort usually reserved for storing cleaning supplies such as mops and brooms.’

Someone likely to be pleased by the change is top government advisor Dominic Cummings, who had derided the cabinet meetings as ‘A stuffy old ritual, gumming and gooing up the cogs of government,’ in his blog.

However for many, the change in policy is a further reminder of the changed reality of the time we live in.