Critic - 2024 Issue 26

EDITORIAL:

CRITIC TAKES A VILLAGE

In honour of this being the last issue of 2024, here’s a supercut of Critic’s year. As you’ll see, Critic Te Ārohi is many things.

Critic is the magazine. It’s every Monday being like Christmas Day, rushing to the stands and holding tangible proof of your hard work; looking around and seeing students holding it too. Being told how gorgeous the magazine is this year and gushing about how talented the design team is. It’s Jakira’s uncanny ability to nail every male student stereotype. Evie’s skill with Photoshop being so good a Uni staff member asked me whether I just happened to have a Bob Ross costume lying around.

Critic is the office. It’s finding a Corona bottle bong in a drawer, ice skates under the printer table, and a folder of former editors’ lawsuits. Newcomers’ eyes widening as they come in the door and witness the chaos (a napping Sam on the couch included). It’s adding to the amalgamation of Critic clutter: bejewelled Critic tracksuit, bespoke ‘Let Her Cook’ apron, and condom pinboard.

Critic is the couch – this year at least. It’s Grant Robertson telling you the couch you spent hours hand-painting has been there since he was OUSA President. Carting it all over North Dunedin and hearing bottle caps clatter inside. A Castle St photoshoot and police asking if you’re planning on burning it. Laughing it off, but wishing that you could.

Critic is the reviews. It’s fanning out and sneaking into halls to review their food (not Aquinas’). Hugh and Iris being accused of subterfuge at Hayward and running back to the office to write about how their food was a bit shit anyway. Gryffin being persecuted by the ‘Mond, forgiven months later at Ski Club’s Cheese Toastie by a Salmond fresher drunk on home-brewed ginger beer. It’s sore bellies and greasy fingers after eight rounds of fish and chips. The dreaded kebab review drip hand and crowding around the radioactive turnip in Ellie’s one.

Critic is the anonymity. It’s spotting Boba Ket on campus, giving him a nod and wondering how many people have worked out who their favourite drug reviewer is. It’s students wanting to be anonymous despite the fact that they’re just commenting on an article about a new roof.

Critic is the letters. Angry ones, adoring ones. Ones pointing out yet another crossword error and putting the ‘days without a crossword error’ counter back to zero. Ones addressed to ‘Mrs Critic’ from a giggling Jordan in a squeaky office chair. Your inbox pinging five times in a row and suspense building as they wait for you to read what they’ve cooked up.

Critic is the humour. It’s laughing out loud when you come across a joke in someone’s draft article and commenting “nice one” in the Google doc. Every culture article Lotto touched turning to gold. It’s loudly consulting the office over what an appropriate simile would be for something students find disappointing, but fitting for Sam’s voice (answer: a wet toilet seat).

Critic is the scandal. Calling your parents to warn them to please not read the next issue of the magazine – it might frighten them. Wondering about what future employers will think when they Google your name. Looking through the archives and realising it could be much worse.

Critic is Proper Journalism. Having a movie marathon of Palestine documentaries to educate yourselves on the issue, meeting with experts and debating amongst yourselves the term “institutional neutrality” and what the role of journalism is in all this. Calling the same media law professors for advice and learning what the term ‘contempt in court’ means. Dropping a story; the fallout wouldn’t be worth it.

Critic is the freedom. It’s realising you, within the bounds of the law, can do whatever you

Jackson, Phoebe Lea,

want. Making yourselves reality TV producers for a dating competition. Hanna typing notes of dating students’ conversations while being pushed on the ice on a bear named ‘Pickles’. Organising a photo shoot of Exec pretending to smoke a cone out of the office-dwelling cone bong named Terry and justifying to concerned OUSA staff why it’s cool.

Critic is the free shit. It’s pitching a review just so you’ll get tickets to an event, and then piecing together an article based on an assortment of incoherent voice notes, messages, and a foggy memory. Planet Media giving you tickets to the museum’s After Dark events and refusing to ride the slippery pig – even for journalism.

Critic is the socials. It’s the video team hitting the Link to ask students whether the Uni should turn campus grass into a dairy farm. Accidentally overexposing almost every single video and yet again losing the fluffy thing that goes on the mic. The same ketchup intro. Battling with U-Bar’s Instagram for coverage of the Pint Night line.

Critic is The hypoCRITICals. It’s thinking Hugh was kidding when he said he was forming a band and then singing along to ‘Trainspotting’ at their first Pint Night gig. Being inspired by Lady Gaga’s ‘Little Monsters’ and coining the term ‘Critters’ for their fan base; it spreading to the name of Critic staff.

Critic is the print nights, one every week. It’s sponsored Subway every second Wednesday, munched over office beers (paid for by me, the office sugar mommy). Excitedly telling everyone that Burger Fuel has FINALLY agreed to sponsor not one print night, but two. Getting out the office scales to weigh Madeline’s heart-shaped carabiners and working out how many you’d need to make a lesbian. Not making it through the evening without Palmy high school horror stories being brought up at least once, or someone saying, “That’s a story!”

Critic is the Pint Night tally. It’s Molly proclaiming Wednesday to be the BEST DAY solely because of this. It’s stickering everyone there and wondering how someone got one on the ceiling. Hugh in his Pint Night pants waddling back to the office with three stolen glasses stuffed in them and proudly adding it to the whiteboard tally: 11 overall.

Critic is the impromptu bar crawls. Splitting the G at The Bog, seeing Jono off to the ER after falling off a chair, and then slamming pickleback shots at The Craic (the only Octagon bar that sells them). Saying, “We should do this more often,” and taking it back the next morning when it’s time to lock back into the grind.

Critic is the smell. Opening all the windows after print night to let out the aroma of old sandwiches, Hugh’s twominute noodle dishes, Speight’s Summit Ultra bottles, and the Bubblemint Extra gum you’re still trying to get rid of.

Critic is the cursed designer computer. Evie battling it on print days, patiently – then impatiently – waiting for it to reboot after InDesign crashed it again. Watching the print night time tally drop after she gets a new one.

Critic is the Friday morning meetings. It’s Sam polishing off a half-drunk Woodstock at 10am to a chorus of “I love it”, coined by Hugh. The meetings taking over an hour of shouting ideas over one another; running out of room on the whiteboard and ink in the pens.

Critic is an onslaught of pitches. It’s pitches at parties, OUSA lunch, Pint Night, Carousel. It’s your head bursting with ideas, ones that overflow into your notes app when you wake up at 4am, hoping to get back to sleep before the content machine whirs back into motion. Failing, sighing, and making a meme for your friend who’s running for SOULS Prez.

Critic is the tea. News tips sent from the flatmate of a friend who heard you work for Critic. Madam Prez parking up in the office with a grin and saying, “You didn’t hear this from me, but…” and spilling the latest Uni or OUSA drama. Getting a tip off from the ODT that the Countdown rats might be back and wondering whether the Breakfast Show will invite you to comment on whether it’s students’ fault again.

Critic is the group chat. It’s endlessly filled with gossip, memes, invites and hot takes, and is almost definitely muted by some. It’s getting tipsy on an Emersons’s tasting tray (the first of the summer), spamming the group chat by giving everyone nicknames, and hoping Hugh knows that when you call him ‘Forrest Gump’ you’re referring to his tendency to run everywhere.

Critic is the influence. It’s watching inside jokes seep into the student zeitgeist and overhearing someone use the term BNOC (Big Name on Campus) or “sheatha”. It’s spotting walls of centrefolds and Critic covers at flat parties: the Wednesday night march, Sarah’s Campus Creatures, Mikey ripping a cone, and Bachelor Joel Tebbs holding out a (fake) rose. It’s an in-office argument over which $4 lunch side is better, samosas or onion bhajis, turning into a last-minute sub-in Debatable column.

letters

Critic is the hustle. It’s no one being properly compensated for the work they put into the magazine. It’s calling it a “labour of love” and meaning it, but also wishing Iris didn’t have to pick up night shifts at Countdown outside of feature writing and her studies.

Critic is the burnout. It’s non-stop content creation and wanting to press pause sometimes. It’s watching the pinboard of magazine covers fill up, counting down the number of issues left to go before the next break, saying how crazy it is how fast the year has gone.

Critic takes a village. It’s watching a fledgling group of writers, illustrators, and content creators become a team; doing stupid shit, covering important issues, writing from the heart, and guzzling cans of Monster in-between. It’s starting the year wondering how on earth you’ll fill 26 48-page magazines with content and ending up with a longer list of pitches than space to put it all. It’s writing this editorial by trawling through the year’s issues and group chat messages, and struggling to whittle it down because so much has happened, and you can’t quite believe how much we’ve all achieved.

Critic is procrastination; the Critters’ of their studies by spending more time cooking up content in the office and it’s yours, by reading this long as fuck editorial. There’s a whole magazine of puzzles in store. Procrastinate some more, why don’t you?

NINA BROWN

LETTERS

LETTER OF THE WEEK

Critic Editor

Tēnā koe

Ko Josh Stewart ahau, my name is Josh Stewart. I am a proud post-graduate student and tutor for the department of Te Tumu School of Māori, Pacific & Indigenous Studies. I am writing to formally acknowledge and raise a complaint regarding a recent issue involving the Otago University Students' Association (OUSA) 2025 elections. Specifically, the editorial decisions regarding the blurb for my candidate profile that was published in the Critic Magazine. As a component of the election, candidates submit blurbs about themselves, which are published in the Critic. On the 13th of September, I submitted my blurb to OUSA for the 2025 votingelection. It reads as follows:

“Tēnā rā tatau - Ko Josh Stewart tōku ingoa, ā, e rapu ana au i ō koutou pōti mō te turu Māngai o ngā tauira tohi paerunga. Ka kawea te mahi a te wheako, nā taku tohu hōnore, taku tohu paerua hoki. Ka mutu, kua kitea, kua rangona e au ngā aupēhi me ngā tāmi o te whare wānanga e pākino mai nei ki a mātau o Ngāi-Tohu-Paerenga. Me whakaroto ka tika, me tautoko ka tika ngā tauira paerunga, mā ngā kaupapa pēnā i te whakarahinga ake o ngā karahipi, i te whakatairanga o ngā puna pūtea rangahau mā mātau hai tono, me te whakarato o ngā rauemi, pūtea rānei hai akiaki i ngā tauira paerunga kia whāi wāhi atu ki ngā huitōpu me ētahi atu wheako ōrite nei, puta noa i te ao. Kaua e noho whakangongo noa, pōti mai ki au hai māngai ōu. - Nāku whataiti nei, Josh” I am passionate about te reo Māori me ona tikanga in which Ōtākou Whakaihu Waka has given me a space to nurture and grow. I acknowledge that while I do not whakapapa Māori, my intentions to share my sentiments in te reo Māori reflected my deep commitment to promoting the visibility of te reo Māori. This was especially important to me amidst Te Wiki o te Reo Māori.

On the 23rd of September, Critic published the blurb. Without consultation, and against what I had intended, my blurb was translated and published in English. I have received confirmation from the Critic editor that the translation into English was generated using an A.I programme, before being checked over by their Māori editor. The English translation reads as follows:

“Thank you - My name is Josh Stewart and I am seeking your vote for the post of Graduate Student Representative. Experience that will bring forth the job, because of my honours degree and my master’s degree. I have seen and heard the pressures and jams of the university that are harming us Postgraduates. Adequate support must be provided to graduate students, through programs such as the expansion of scholarships, the promotion of research funding sources for our applications, and the provision of resources or funds to encourage graduate students to participate in corporate and other similar experiences worldwide. Don’t sit back, vote for your representative. - I’m humble, Josh”

This translation was not an accurate representation of what I wrote. I felt this undermined my true intentions in campaigning and representing myself in this election. While I acknowledge that I don’t believe these decisions were motivated by ill intent, it reveals a fundamental misunderstanding of not only the dangers of relying on artificial intelligence to interpret and translate texts but also highlights an opportunity to address the underlying issue of cultural insensitivity. Consulting with me first, or at the very least running it past me before publishing, would have been the best course of action.

Additionally, within the coverage of the candidate’s debate, I gave a series of bi-lingual answers. However, this was not portrayed in the article, which described the forum thusly: In honour of Te Wiki o Te Reo Māori, Josh spoke purely in te reo Māori – an admirable effort, students agreed, while frustrating for those who didn’t understand the language.

As you will see, they described my use of te reo Māori as 'an admirable effort,' but also 'frustrating for those who didn’t understand the language.' This framing feels patronizing as if my use of te reo was merely a novelty or a ‘try-hard’ effort. Despite Te Wiki o te Reo Māori, this suggests te reo should only be used when convenient for non-speakers, which undermines its significance and carries derogatory connotations.

I wish to remind Critic of the University's commitment to Te Tiriti o Waitangi, which emphasises an obligation to respect and protect te reo Māori. The decision to translate my original blurb without consultation not only undermines this commitment but also points to a deeper systemic issue. It reflects a sense of entitlement in feeling it was acceptable to translate kupu Māori into English without considering the cultural significance or seeking my input, regardless of my whakapapa.

Transparency about editorial processes is crucial, particularly when dealing with expressions of identity and culture. Had I been consulted, this issue could have been avoided. Moving forward, I urge Critic to reflect on this matter and take steps to ensure that similar incidents do not occur in the future. Taking greater care in respecting cultural expressions and understanding the limitations of AI when it comes to language and identity are critical. I hope that this encourages meaningful dialogue and leads to better practices and understanding, particularly in terms of the use of te reo Māori within the University’s communications and future publications. I welcome the opportunity to discuss this matter and share my concerns kanohi ki te kanohi (face-to-face). I wish to close by acknowledging the opportunity here to truly embody the spirit of kōtahitanga (partnership and unity). As our Chief Justice Tā Joe Williams has emphasised, the key is in making a 'cognitive shift' - to step into someone else’s shoes and view a situation from their perspective, even if imperfectly. I am confident that by fostering greater understanding, we can navigate such issues here at Ōtākou Whakaihu Waka collectively and with the utmost integrity. Nāku noa, nā

Josh Stewart

Editor’s response: You’re right, we should have consulted you before including a translation and treated te reo Māori with more respect in our coverage. My apologies and we’ll keep this in mind for future reporting.

CULTURE

Dear Critic,

To everyone who decided to pile on in the previous issue - I am not a convicted sex offender, nor have I ever committed sexual assault. I do not have a conviction of any kind.

But rest assured, I am currently investigating legal avenues, so far as responding to the truly... fascinating... letters of last week.

Yours Faithfully, Daniel Stride.

Editor’s response: I made it clear in my response to the letters that you are not a convicted sex offender. Those letters were anonymous and remain as such

Dear Critic,

In regard to our current weather shitshow I would like to say a few words about the uni.

The way the university has managed the current extreme weather has been disgraceful. I live in South Dunedin and have friends from university that have had to evacuate their home. With road closures, bus cancellations and general unsafe road conditions I find it disgusting that the university did not act quickly and close for the day to protect their students and staff. The DCC put out statements advising people to stay home unless it was essential, the university staying open actively disregarded this. This put pressure on staff and students to show up in unsafe conditions and, with accidents likely to happen, could have increased strain on our hard working emergency services. As a major Dunedin institution, the university should have acted much sooner and more decisively, a feat achieved by our (evidently much smarter) neighbor Otago Polytechnic.

The university has a responsibility to look after their staff and students and I feel they have grossly neglected this responsibility with their management of the current weather event. I hope the university takes this seriously and offers an apology to their community.

Thanks for letting me rant.

Yours faithfully,

A disgruntled student and Dunedinite

PM Chris Luxon visited Dunedin last Monday following the flooding, a visit met around every corner by protestors against the govt’s decision to scale back the new hospital development

Hi Critic,

So here’s the scoop. Submitted my diss on the 4th of feb. started making plans for my graduation. They deactivated my webmail and evision in April and i haven’t been able to access either since. I sent them multiple emails from my personal about this, including one about 6 months ago specifically addressing my concerns about graduating. I literally had to come onto campus in august (bear in mind I live in the cook islands) just to get an academic transcript. This is evidence of how much i’ve struggled getting them to acknowledge my inaccessibility. Anyway, last day of september, applications finally open. Over a few days i make a couple attempts to apply, obviously i can’t access my evision so it doesn’t work, but i leave it a moment before raising the alarm as raro internet is pretty shocking lol. But finally on the 6th of october i sent askotago a request on how tf I can apply. They just said lol go on evision and apply. So i go on, and sure enough, it suddenly works. But in that week the allocations have filled and long story short Im fucked off that me and multiple family members from a couple different countries are likley gonna miss out on this grad simply because the uni has spent 6 months either dismissing or refusing to acknowledge my complaints about what is i guess their own computer error?

Sincerely,

Fucked off from the cook islands

Dear Mrs Critic,

PLEASE stop sending me emails.

From, Someone with a very full inbox

Editor’s response: Seeing as it’s the last issue, I guess I’ll give it a rest

NZ Census 2023 data was released last week – a key finding is that 1 in 20 adults identify as queer (many in Wellington)

A key finding of the country’s largest Long Covid research project is that the 1300 patients selfassessed their quality of life to be lower than numbers reported by a cohort of multiple sclerosis patients in a separate study, reports Newsroom

'Seams n Seas' is a free SCOM301 science communication event to discuss the marine impacts of fast fashion to be held on the 15th of October, from 4-6pm in the main common room outside Union Hall

Three NZ universities have fallen in Times Higher Education World University Rankings 2025, including Otago Uni which dropped from the 301-350 in the world group to 351-400, its lowest position since joining the rankings in 2016

Coroner Heather McKenzie released new findings from the May inquest into Sophia Crestani’s death last Monday, concluding that she died from a flat party crush that was tragic and “likely preventable”. Her parents commented they want to see a culture shift in the wake of their daughter’s death

Otago Uni has received the world’s first 5+ Stars rating in the Quacquarelli Symonds revamped QS Stars assessment based on areas important to students including facilities, teaching and employability

Student Arrested in Campus Palestine Protest

Watermelon badges, chants, and handcuffs on your Wednesday lunch break

The University of Otago’s stance of “institutional neutrality” on Israel’s actions in Palestine has continued to be fiercely criticised by its staff and students. Last Wednesday, October 9th, the Otago Students for Justice in Palestine (OSJP) held a peaceful campus protest that spiralled into one student being arrested for wilful damage of a Clocktower reception glass door.

The protest began at noon. A mixed crowd of around 200 students, staff, and members of the public gathered at the Otago Museum lawn. They held Palestine flags, protest signs, and Critic spotted a crochet watermelon badge or two (a symbol of Palestinian solidarity).

“This is the most recent in a series of peaceful student actions calling on the University to publicly condemn the genocide in Palestine and to boycott and divest from Israeli corporations,” OSJP said in a statement following the protest. The group’s marchpath took them from the Museum Lawn, through the Link, and ended in front of the Clocktower. They sang and chanted as they went: “We’re calling on you to take a side, it’s been one year of genocide.”

Three of the protest organisers spoke at the Clocktower as members of Campus Watch looked on, including the Proctor Dave Scott. The first, student Namugga Nakayiza, began by saying, “I’m speaking to you with a lot of pain.” As the protest came just two days after the anniversary of October 7th, she reflected on the horror of watching from afar as an estimated 41,000 Palestinians and 1,200 Israelis have been killed.

Each of the speakers took aim at the University’s stance of “institutional neutrality” on the matter. Otago University has consistently said that “to the best of [their] knowledge” they do not have financial ties to Israel. But Namugga pointed out that the Uni’s pension fund, Unisaver, is invested in military contractors such as Elbit Systems and Palantir. This would mean students’ tuition fees are going toward companies who create the bombs Israel is dropping on innocent civilians, she said. At time of writing, the University has not responded to these allegations.

Politics lecturer Dr David Jenkins was the second speaker. Earlier that day, an opinion piece he’d co-written with MFCO lecturer Dr Olivier Jutel on behalf of Otago Staff for Palestine (OSP) had been published by the ODT titled ‘University could, should take ethical stand’. “[OSP] are a group of staff and students trying to convince the University of Otago to take a stand against Israel’s actions in Gaza and the Occupied Territories, actions which the International Court of Justice and many human rights experts argue plausibly amount to genocide.”

Jenkins in his speech referenced the arguments made in the article against the University’s neutrality. While OSP acknowledges that “institutional neutrality is certainly an important principle” it was “never meant to serve as an ultimate trump card against all political stances” – an especially salient point in light of the Uni’s support of hospital marches, transition away from fossil fuels, and concerted effort to becoming a Te Tiriti-led institution this year, signified by the rebranded ikoa Māori and tohu in collaboration with mana whenua.

By Nina Brown Editor // news@critic.co.nz

The third speaker was OSJP member Neave Ashton. They spoke of how students at other college campuses in protests “played a pivotal role shining a light on institutional complicity and pressuring their universities to endorse [the BDS movement] [...] We’re here following their example.”

Neave also came for Otago’s stubbornly neutral stance, yelling, “In taking no stance, this university de facto endorses the continuation of the genocide. This should forfeit their claimed role of the conscience and critic of society. If you can’t take a stand against genocide, what the fuck can you take a stand for?” Their words were met with applause and shouts of “shame!” from the crowd.

Neave wrapped up their speech by calling on protestors to stage a sit-in inside the Clocktower on the stairs. OSJP said this was “a move carefully planned by OSJP harkening back to current Vice-Chancellor Grant Robertson’s very own clocktower [sic] occupation in his university days.” As a group broke off from the crowd to rush inside, Neave warned that doing so would be at their own risk as they “might be trespassed.”

“The energy changed quickly when students were met with violence,” claimed OSJP. “Campus Watch and Proctor Dave Scott forcefully held the protestors back at the door, shouting and pushing them back through the entrance. A Campus Watch officer grappled a student who had made it past the front doors and was standing in the entranceway. In an attempt to wrestle her backwards, he collided with an interior glass door which shattered.”

“I was appalled to see Campus Watch put guarding the Clocktower above the safety of our students. We are a peaceful group, and that was a totally excessive response,” said an OSJP spokesperson. Following the incident, the student sought medical attention and was arrested for wilful damage by Police who’d shown up on the scene shortly after. “One person has been arrested in relation to the incident and charges will be considered,” Police told Critic.

VC Grant commented following the events, “Peaceful protest has been a long tradition at the University of Otago – Ōtākou Whakaihu Waka. It is important that students and staff are able to express their views and protest within the law. However, there is no place for vandalism or disorderly actions, particularly when the safety of others including staff and students is put at risk. This protest crossed that line. This is against the kaupapa of our community and is not welcome.”

The statement, rather than coming from the heart, is worded almost exactly the same as former Acting Vice-Chancellor Prof Tony Ballantyne’s after another student protest that vandalised walls in the Business School just last year. Uni staff member Brandon Johnstone criticised Grant’s “lack of genuine engagement” with the “stock response”.

OSJP intends to continue to call on the University to endorse the BDS movement for a free Palestine, stating, “It is important to remember why we are here: tens of thousands of people are being slaughtered in Palestine and our university has done nothing.”

Outdoor Clubs Unite Against Orgy Accusations

Confirmed: their constitutions don’t rule it out as a possibility

Following allegations that they’re fronts for orgies, three outdoor Otago clubs have come together to set the record straight. Critic Te Ārohi met with the accused and their chosen champions: OUSSC Prez Peter Barclay, OUTC former treasurer Joel Tebbs, and OUCC Prez Hunter Davidson – who wasn’t quite sure why he’d been invited, but participated enthusiastically anyway.

All three flat-out denied the rumours. This is despite there being no constitutional assurances that any of the clubs would refrain from having orgies (we did our homework). At the suggestion of a no-orgy clause, Joel said, “I have not experienced any orgies on tramping club trips in 2024 so no need for a clause for something that isn’t happening […] Tramping club stays dry.” Or maybe he was just too busy with other kinds of group dating to notice.

Speaking for the Canoe Club, Hunter said, “I was surprised that I got the invite today, to be honest. I wasn’t aware of any allegations against our club […] It’s not really practical in OUCC y’know? We’re in tents – just not the best set up really. We’re not in a cosy ski lodge or a tramping hut.” Responding to the deflection from Hunter onto their respective clubs, Joel pipped back that OUCC got “pretty wet” and Peter speculated that the cold might make them “cuddle up.”

It was also pointed out by Joel that OUCC has a massive exec, potentially for cleaning up certain messes or inciting students into keeping hush hush. “We like to do less, spread the workload, gives us more time to go on an occasional tramping club [trip] and have an orgy if we want to,” Hunter cheekily said to this. A quick fact check also revealed that while OUCC has 10 exec members, that’s nothing compared to OUTC’s 27.

Outside of wet kayakers and cozied up trampers, perhaps the most damning orgy allegations related to OUSSC – not just owing to their ‘open relationship’ status on Facebook. A loose-lipped member told Critic about a challenge called ‘GNAR Day’, a skiingbased challenge originating in the States with points scored for different tricks. A handful of members this year allegedly took

By Hugh Askerud News Editor// news@critic.co.nz

it upon themselves to invent personal adaptations – including steamy gondola rides and romances with ‘lifties’ (people who work on the ski lifts). “That’s pretty damning,” said Hunter.

Though each club had their shots fired, they were united in the hurt they felt against the allegations placed on their shoulders. Peter said that these rumours weren’t anything new for OUSSC, which he’s been part of for four years now. “Ever since my first year just about everyone I’ve ever met […] has had some wild things to say about the Ski Club,” he said. But when he’d ask them whether they themselves were part of the club or had even been to any of the events, they hadn’t. “So what on earth are you even talking about?”

Hunter said it was a classic case of stories being inflated, like how your mate’s bathroom spider gets bigger every time they mention it. “There are stories that people tell from ten years ago, shit was a bit more wild back then for sure but like every time someone tells a story it gets more extreme.” Peter summed it up by saying, “We’re just here to do the sports that we love outdoors. People are just jealous.”

In between throwing shade at each other on Critic’s couches, the trio worried at the division that the allegations seem to have caused amongst the clubs’ community. However, they were quick to jump on their own theories, suggesting that POLSA, SOULS, Disc Golf Club, and the newly formed Slacklining Club (who barely have enough members to constitute a threesome) may have been orgy culprits. Anyone but them, really. Prudes.

A uniting event for the outdoor clubs was the 2022 ‘Clash of Clubs’ competition. Founder Reid Eberwein (also the brains behind the 2022 pyramid scheme Sign Up Club) told Critic Te Ārohi, “[It was] a great time and my hope was that the event planners for each successive year could come together again, but unfortunately nothing came of it the year after.” In the meantime, Critic Te Ārohi suggests they work it out with a friendly cross-club orgy.

Forth St Flat Flames

Flatties left shaken and homeless following flat fire

A Forth Street flat complex of six went up in flames on Sunday, October 6th. The fire began in a downstairs flat before smoke made its way through the complex. A total of 18 students were affected by the blaze. Thankfully, no one was hurt, but the fire has meant six students have been relocated to Uniflats until the end of semester.

Critic Te Ārohi spoke to two affected students, Jane* and her flatmate Harry*, a few days after they’d recovered from the shock of losing their flat. They said that the fire started at around 10pm, just as Jane had finished her washing. “I was standing out in the lounge and I thought it smelled like something was burning,” Jane* said.

Her flatmate had just lit up his incense, so Jane* didn’t see the smell as a problem. She just thought “my heater’s doing God's work right now, this is so chill.” But around ten minutes later, she heard the downstairs flat’s fire alarm and shouts of “FIRE”. The entire complex was evacuated. The flatties left everything behind, apart from one of the boys who ran out with his PC (any gamer would).

“The fire brigade got there in four minutes which is just insane. Another couple minutes and it would have been a different story,” said Jane. The damage was considerable. Jane witnessed a window and a wall explode from the flames, with the downstairs flat left “completely destroyed.” Following the fire, Harry said, “Every single thing that was in my room is covered in ash [...] All of us were emotionally affected, it was quite a scary time.”

It wasn’t just the complex which felt the impact of the fire. The entirety of the street’s power was cut off during the blaze. It was “surreal,” said Harry*. They were standing outside on the street for about three hours, he estimated, with the only light coming from the blaze. “Everyone had gone outside, and because there was like four fire trucks, people were flocking,” he said. “ I was just trying to call my mum.”

By Hugh Askerud News Editor // news@critic.co.nz

A few punters from Castle St had also made the trip to see the extent of the blaze, with many deciding to post quips like “ngl gang may have burned the lasagne” on Castle24 – quips that weren’t appreciated by the students affected. “Holy shit, do you guys have any human sympathy at all?” questioned Harry. “That’s just someone’s entire life that’s being wiped out […] there’s a line that you draw that shouldn't really be crossed.”

Safe to say it was a long night dealing with punters, police, the fire department, Campus Watch, and finally the Proctor – who the flatmates gave a shoutout to for securing them a Uniflat within ten hours of the incident.

Stressful, yes, but after a while standing outside on the cold Sunday night, Harry said that he was “just chillin.” Maddy even asked a fire person to retrieve her pink stuffed dolphin along with other essentials in her room, before he told her, “You know that’s illegal right? Dolphins belong in the sea.” “Too soon brother, too soon,” joked Harry.

As the numbness of shock wore off, however, everyone in the flat was “terrified, anxious, really overwhelmed, and just in shock, I think,” said Jane. “It hit all of us when we went in the day after.”

Both Jane and Harry are looking at applying for special consideration in their upcoming exams. Their new flat is only a skip over the hill on Leith St, but they have resigned for next year, so are hoping to receive some clarity on the situation soon.

A Givealittle has been started by the Physiotherapy Students Association to raise money for the considerable amount of stuff students lost in the fires. Residents would like to thank the 119 people who have donated thus far.

*Names changed.

Hatchet-Wielding “Council Worker” Trespassed from Flat

Who the hell owns a hatchet?

A man has been trespassed by police from a student flat after masquerading as a DCC employee conducting “welfare checks” on Maitland and Stafford Street on Friday, October 4th. The hatchet (axe) he carried made tenants a bit suspect.

Adorned in his Hi-Vis and a lanyard, the man was seen walking along upper sections of Maitland and Stafford St and conversing with several residents in the area. Students told Critic that the bro was acting in an “erratic and excited” manner, yelling and swearing at an unidentified individual who he was on the phone with. A Police spokesperson has confirmed that they received reports from residents concerned that the man was misrepresenting himself as a council worker.

It was after a period of roaming that the man entered an unlocked but occupied student flat. The man showed one resident his “homebrewed fake identification” before accidentally dropping a hatchet out from underneath his coat (awkward). Naturally, the interaction became a bit more tense afterward, with the now

By Sam Smith-Soppet Contributor // news@critic.co.nz

hatchet-wielding man trying to win the trust of the students. A bit like convincing your RA you’re not drinking on a Monday after being caught with Nitro hands.

The resident was then joined by another occupant of the flat. Upon their arrival on the scene, the man apparently attempted to re-conceal his hatchet – to little success. He was eventually coaxed out of the flat, but not before stating that he would “come back to make sure the door was locked” at some point that evening.

At this point the flat phoned 105, the police non-emergency contact number, ultimately leading to the swift capture of the man. The man is now trespassed from the flat for a minimum of two years. The residents of the flat heavily emphasised to Critic Te Ārohi “the importance of locking up your flat when nobody is home.” As the old adage goes: “An ounce of prevention is worth a tonne of cure.”

OUSA Peddles Ethel Property to Fund Clubs & Socs’ EQ Strengthening

“Can you ever really own something, or was it just ours to borrow for the meanwhile?”

OUSA Clubs and Socs, home of the humble $4 lunch and sauna, is booked for earthquake strengthening this summer. Clubs and Socs will be closed during summer, with construction starting after exams finish, hoping to wrap up by O-Week next year.

Currently, the building isn’t seismically up to scratch. According to DCC rules, OUSA has thirty years to replace the roof (the heart of the building’s issues), but as Madam President Keegan Wells says, “[We] obviously don’t want to wait because if an earthquake happens we don’t want to put students at risk.”

To fund the construction, OUSA plans to sell their recently emptied Ethel Benjamin Street property. Every parent knows you’re not meant to pick favourites, but OUSA has shown their cards: Clubs and Socs are the golden child and Ethel’s getting the boot to give their older sibling a summer glow-up.

Ethel’s been left vacant since its previous occupier OUSA Student Support moved into the former National Centre for Peace and Conflict Studies (262 Leith Walk). Student Support can now be found behind a purple door – not a plucky dinosaur called Barney, as you’d be forgiven for thinking. But the team there have a similar welcoming energy, dedicated to helping tauira with everything life throws at them.

Keegan told Critic that the new digs have been great. “It’s going really well. It’s really cool that they have more space.” They’ve also had the issue of moving into bigger flats where, if you have more space, you will inevitably fill it up. For Student Support, it’s because “they’re just that busy,” said Keegan. “Tons of students

By Nina Brown Editor // critic@critic.co.nz

are using Student Support which is, you know, both a good and a bad thing because it’s cool to see that the students are accessing the resource, but it’s hard knowing that students are struggling.”

With Student Support well-settled into the new property, then, the question of what to do with the vacant Ethel has lingered. Critic Te Ārohi’s suggestions of a permanent “cuddle fix” petting zoo for stressed students fell on deaf ears. At an OUSA Exec meeting on Thursday, October 4th, they passed a motion granting OUSA CEO Debbie Downs permission to put Ethel up for sale.

“It’s unfortunate that we have to give away such a cool property, especially one that backs up onto Clubs and Socs – you know, that’s what we call a strategic asset in the business. But it has to be done, we have to fix the roof for the Clubs and Societies.” The building is currently not earthquake safe. “We’d much rather have people be safe in that building than a shitty cottage,” she said.

Ten years down the track, Keegan reckoned it would end up as a “sub-division or big development just basing off the housing typology in the area, right you have a lot of high density [...]” She theorised that if it were repurposed as a flat it could be named ‘Student Support Flat’ in a nod to the building’s history.

Ever the poet, Keegan’s parting remark was: “Property is a human construct. Can you ever really own something, or was it just ours to borrow for the meanwhile?”

Dundas Fence Collapse Sparks Feud

Pushed or Rotten? That’s (still) the question

In an incident leaving four flats and their landlords at each other’s throats (or at least slightly more passive aggressive than usual), a large fence in a Dundas Street flatting complex of four has collapsed over their driveway. Or perhaps been pulled down?

Given some of the flats are owned by different landlords, a sort of “he said she said” situation has arisen – and Critic Te Ārohi got caught in the middle trying to make sense of it all.

By Hanna Varrs Staff Writer // news@critic.co.nz

the girls were telling people the boys had pushed over the fence, denying doing so. “And we were like, ‘No we actually didn’t,’” said Emily. “We just said we didn’t know who pushed it over. It could’ve been someone off the street for all we fucking know.” The boys apparently got “real aggro” at Emily’s flatmate, but left a bit calmer after some clarifications.

Golf Breathas Raise $5k for Men’s Mental Health

Wagging class for a good cause

Six breathas have done some good in the world, raising $5,200 for charity by playing golf. The boys played 72 holes in one day

Taylor*, a tenant at flat A, told Critic that the entire thing started a few weeks ago when the boys at Flat B were hosting a party in their backyard – one with a “pissing corner” that leaked into the driveway: “There was basically a huge puddle of piss on our driveway.” Taylor heard from one of his friends attending the party that someone was pushed into the fence, causing it to take on a “wonky angle” and making the driveway a bottleneck.

A week later, and on the eve of Southern Sounds, Flat B and D were having some drinks. As Taylor’s mate was leaving at midnight, they said the fence “wasn’t looking too good.” Upon going outside, Taylor and his flat found the fence “fully collapsed.”

Flat D told Critic Te Ārohi that their landlord said to file the police report so that they could get the insurance. They dutifully did so upon discovering the damage the following morning. Flat B was reportedly unfussed about the situation when Flat A confronted them about it – seemingly having “no idea what happened.” Flat C has remained uninvolved in the situation.

While Emily from Flat D could understand people assuming it was them who caused the fence to fall over, she told Critic, “We don’t actually know if it was people from my party [...] We’re still unsure if it was us or the boys next door. That’s where the current conflict is. [It’s a dispute] between our landlord and their landlord.” Emily shrugged, “I’m sorry – I’m not that strong to pull on that fence.”

Emily’s flatmate Anna* chimed in, saying, “With the structure of the fence, all the supports would be facing the boys’ property. It had a couple of screws in some places, but most of it was [resting on those supports].” They confirmed that they had noticed it gradually getting worse over the past few weeks.

A Police spokesperson, speaking to the report filed by Flat D, said, “Police inspected the fence [...] and found the posts to be rotten. On that basis, we’re unable to conclude if the fence was wilfully damaged [...] Police have relayed this to the person who contacted us about the fence and the matter is now between them and their landlord.” The plot thickens.

Allegedly, the boys at Flat B then went to talk to the girls over at Flat D following the fence’s collapse. Flat B asked Flat D why

Rolling her eyes, Emily revealed to us that two of the Flat D boys were actually at her party. Allegedly, Flat B had told their landlord they’d spent the night in preparation for Southern Sounds. “I have a video of one of them on the pole,” she told us. Riot.

By Jonathan McCabe Contributor // news@critic.co.nz

“The funny thing is that those boys seem to have a thing for almost fully naked cooking. And [the removal of the fence] means that there are glass doors fully open to the street. I was so nervous [walking past], I thought it was ‘an apron and nothing else’ situation,” Anna told us worriedly.

When asked for comment about the fence, Finn* from Flat B told us that while at Flat D’s party they were informed that “some tall dude just pulled [our] fence down trying to climb it. I told my other flatmate and went and had a look and half the fence was hanging down. I filed a police report straight away and people kept pulling it down and sitting on it.”

He explained that over ten members from the party held at Flat D pulled the fence down. While Flat B was standing and videoing this all going down, someone (now confirmed to be from Flat A) told them that it was Flat B that did it, “when we were all standing watching.”

Furthermore, the boys denied any knowledge of the fence getting gradually worse before the eventual collapse. “We had the bro’s 21st last semester but there’s bins and bushes in the way [of the fence],” Finn explained.

As a final comment, Finn revealed, “My flatmate's mum owns the property, so why would we break it?” That is a damning point. According to Finn, the fence actually isn’t their property but instead belongs to the Flats at A, D, and C – so they don’t have to pay for the damage, no matter who actually pulled the fence down.

Critic Te Ārohi went out to investigate and we came back empty handed. Who pulled this fence down? In this instance, we fucked around and didn’t find out. Maybe it’s a mystery better left unsolved – we’ll leave that for you to decide.

*Names changed.

Kayakers Soar Through Campus Amidst Red-Level Rain Warnings

"Way better than couch burning!"

wo weekends ago, East Otago received more than double October's typical rainfall in just 40 hours, making the Water of Leith a kayaker's playground.

A state of emergency was called on Friday, October 4th. Low lying areas were flooded and all main roads out of Dunedin were closed, essentially making Ōtepoti an island. Kayakers stepped into troubled waters in more ways than one, stirring up a judgemental storm among the boomers of Dunedin.

By Jonathan McCabe Contributor// news@critic.co.nz

Hunter understands that the comments "come from a place of concern," but that people underestimate the "risk assessment, planning and skill" that went behind their exhibitions. For each lap, Hunter said that they "were scouting all the different features multiple times over" in case the flows fluctuated, minimising the risk of irregularities that could be present in flood waters. He also points out that people were stationed at risky features with rescue equipment. The ODT shared a video when a throw bag had to be used on Hunter while he was struggling to get out of a hole. He commented that it "is something you do all the time [...] it looks kind of, like, scary [...] But it's actually not."

Golf Breathas Raise $5k for Men’s Mental Health

Wagging class for a good cause

Sergeant Simon Reay of Dunedin told the ODT that the police were “disappointed” with the "unwise actions" of these paddlers: ‘‘If they needed rescuing, it would stretch already stretched resources and put an extra strain and demand on police and council staff.’’

Six breathas have done some good in the world, raising $5,200 for charity by playing golf. The boys played 72 holes in one day

But Otago University Canoe Club (OUCC) President Hunter Davidson, who paddled with groups of students and locals independently from the club, said that the police “didn't make any effort to [directly] contact us.” Not wanting to drain Police resources, Hunter reassured Critic Te Ārohi that "everyone there was competent, everyone carried their own rescue gear and knew how to use it."

Hunter told Critic that the mighty Leith is an interesting beast to tame, coming with a range of obstacles. These include the concrete walls along the bank that leave only a few spots for kayakers to stop, as well as a series of mini man-made dams (or 'weir's' if you speak kayak) that create 'holes' where the water curls back on itself, making it easy to get trapped in.

A gnarly weir sits directly in front of the Clocktower on campus, attracting crowds and making for some sick shots. Bumping into OUSSC Prez Peter Barclay, known for mountain adventure exploits, Critic asked whether he’d ever be spotted soaring down the Leith. "I can't kayak, so probably not me," he responded.

Some users in the Dunedin News Facebook comment section just wanted them to Leith the river alone (heh). “I hope you don’t get into trouble and ask the tax payer to pay the bill,” said one commenter. Kayakers were generally addressed as “a thoughtless lot.” Meanwhile, another commenter argued that the paddlers “would be on rivers most weeks that would make this look like a dribble,” and that commenters should “get out more, there's a whole world passed [sic] the keyboard."

By Jonathan McCabe Contributor // news@critic.co.nz

When accused of being disrespectful during a moment of crisis, Hunter felt that kayaking the Leith is “just as insensitive as, say, skim boarding on Logan Park." On Friday, Unipol staff were allegedly wary of hiring surfboards to anyone they suspected would take them to the Leith and told disappointed students they didn’t have kayaks for hire.

Hunter said that one of the lowlights of his outing was, "Just thinking about how nasty that water is." Second-year PPE major Briana said, "You don't need to be a microbiologist to know that shit water will make you sick." Unlike Olympic athletes who’d competed in the Seine this year, Hunter didn’t experience any ill effects from the expedition, however.

The first day kayakers went out, soaking spectators gathered on the Leith’s edge for 30 minutes across from the Clocktower in anticipation of the paddlers soaring through the rapids. Just as the group finally rolled on by, the Proctor stood in front of spectators' cameras while asking them to move back.

A University Spokesperson said that this was to “move students to a safe viewing spot in case they tripped and fell into the flooded Leith.” Annoyed her video was interrupted, a spectator said that she "respected the Proctor for looking after our safety, but he couldn't have picked a worse time."

The University Spokesperson told Critic Te Ārohi, "While kayaking in a flooded river is not illegal, the Proctor advised the kayakers present to only participate if they had the necessary skills to ensure their safety."

Inaugural Combined Science Ball a Hit

Some serious chemistry at work

The Sciences Ball, expected to be a quiet affair, has left pundits gawking after exploding into something so wild that even Law students were taking notes (but when aren’t they?).

Around 300 students rocked up to the Otago University Combined Sciences Ball, with students from OMISA, APSA, OMPSA, BOHSS, and FASA swapping their lab coats for sequins and suits.

The ball featured a live performance by Dr Wazoo (not an actual professor), and two DJs: DJ Emmie and DJ Oliver Peyroux. Dr Wazoo, DJ Emmie, and DJ Oliver Peyroux were set to perform for free until ticket sales exploded in the final two weeks, allowing the organisers to cover the costs.

The highlight of the evening, however, was a full dance floor belting out Taylor Swift’s ‘You Belong With Me’, with APSA President Jimmy aptly noting, “White girl songs were popular that night.”

No university ball would be complete without a signature drink, and the Sciences Ball did not disappoint with the Starry Night cocktail. Not one to shy away from honest feedback, Jimmy summed up the ingredients with casual confidence: “It was purple […] and like, idk.”

The ball’s security guard, Johnny, let us in on the tea from the evening, claiming that the Sciences Ball "outdid the law ball in more ways than one." A young man was reportedly removed from the venue after exiting the bathrooms with a “mysterious white powder” on his nose, prompting swift intervention. The figure was

By Phoebe Lea Contributor // news@critic.co.nz

unavailable for comment, yet it has been alleged that the white powder may have been something else (alright bro).

The ball was not without organisational trials (and emails) however. For the organisers, Kristina and Paris from OMISA, the ball was a labour of love – emphasis on labour. Kristina had sent over a hundred emails and texts, many of which involved gently reminding students to fill in their names properly on the ticket forms. Kristina spent hours fielding emails from students who, despite being able to understand the Krebs cycle (wtf) couldn’t quite manage a Google Form.

Kristina and Paris aimed to bridge a disconnect they’d noticed among the sciences. No one sits together during lectures and with second-year labs only a few hours a week, the old BSc can be a very antisocial degree. The Sciences Ball was more than just a party; it was a celebration of community. When Kristina asked Head of Biomedical Sciences, Matloob Hussain, at a class rep meeting why there wasn't a microbiology or biomedical sciences ball he simply said, “Throw one yourself!”

But despite the challenges, the overwhelming response has left the duo thinking about next year’s event, with hopes to rope in even more departments. Genetics and biochemistry, consider this an official callout. So if you missed this year’s starry night, don’t worry—the next one promises to be even bigger, wilder, and with any luck, less purple.

PUZZLES PUZZLES

1 Bona fide best coffee on campus (see: Critic census)

6 Roo was the winner of what comp

8 What you can technically do in public if you think no one is watching

10 Two resigned and one was removed this year 11 Student Health recommends taking this in winter (2) 12 "Yeah, right!" (2)

Flavour of RTD that used a Castle St flat as a billboard

Cosy Dell _____er

21 What Sam uses the Critic office couch for

24 "Watch out!"

25 '________ Tasteless Tide' (see: Issue 2)

28 Fit

29 Critic reviewed food from this (see: Issue 3)

31 The typical magazine red changed to this for Te Wiki o Te Reo Mori

33 Capping Show theme

36 Capital of Norway

37 Press ____ on the 91FM livestream

38 Winner of the bar review

41 Onecard gets you 10% off everything at this café

43 High-fat, low-carb diet

45 Cooks

46 Found growing in the carpet of a Dundas St flat (see: Issue 23)

47 Hard to believe

48 Critic merch approved by Grant Robertson

51 Can't wear them to Octagon clubs (see: Issue 16)

53 Ann Arkii is the what of Dunedin drag?

56 Lily's single date with Joel took place in one (see: Issue 21)

58 Like some furniture

59 Korean vodka-like bevvy

60 Bodyworks Dunedin is one (with a cursed website)

61 You're Dunedin old if you've bought a real one (see: Issue 2)

62 Issue 9's banana cover model is at what party?

63 Winter blues clinical diagnosis (acr.)

64 Some members of the Exec tried an alternative one (see: Issue 23)

1 What Critic has referred to Grant as 2 What Hayward College accused Critic of after the food review (see: Issue 3)

3 Firecracker smores are kind of what (see: Issue 7)

4 Number of staff in the Critic editorial team 5 ADHD med and study drug

7 Ultimate flip Boba Ket has done (see: Issue 7)

8 FSO Daniel Leamy fell for one (see: Issue 24) 9 Chances are your great uncle is one

Issue 1 reviewed this

Former Six60 member (see: Issue 1)

Cafe Nesli kebab's have a generous amount (see: Issue 21)

Homie, mate

Spring means the campus cherry trees do this

Neuroscience brainfood drink

35 Student sector of the stadium 39 Fancy broccoli

40 Rage cage is a drinking what

41 This hall had a bra thief (see: Issue 6)

42 Complete the breatha fit: mullet, moustache, cap, _____ 43 Finger lickin' good 44 Tuesday OUSA $4 lunch

49 Bird of the year hoiho is a type of what

50 Harbour floaters

52 Moses parted it (2)

PUZZLES PUZZLES

Time (acr.)

57 In debt

58 Mr Krabs' daughter

60 Wāhine will often wield one during waiata performances (2) 62 Hesitator's word 64 Ōtepoti band behind 'The Trees' single 66 Cashew, for example

Telly (acr.)

SUPERCUT

PROCRASTINATION

BOB ROSS

MAGAZINE

EXAMS

PHOTOSHOP

COUCH

ANONYMITY

BOBA KET

MRS CRITIC

JOURNALISM

PICKLEBACK

SLIPPERY PIG

SUBWAY CRITTERS

WOODSTOCK

BNOC ORGIES

PROTEST FIRE HATCHET

KAYAKER

FEUD

DISASSOCIATE

FARE THEE WELL

RETAIL

CROMWELL

THE HYPOCRITICALS

FROZEN YOGHURT

MONSTER

SPOT THE DIFFERENCE

There are 10 differences between the two images

There are 10 differences between the two images

There are 10 differences between the two images

Illustrated by Ryan Dombroski

Illustrated by Aria Tomlinson

COLOURING COMP

Send a pic to @criticmag on Instagram to be in to win a prizepack of Critic merch! Entries close 31st October.

Illustrated by Tevya Faed

Choose Your Own Adventure:

Exam Procrastination EDITION

1.

The end of the year has rolled around once again and there’s nothing you’d rather be doing right now than studying for your 60% exam. But before you do, what’s the harm in just taking a little preemptive brain break? As you look around from your freshly obtained perch in the library, what do you feel like getting into rather than your notes?

a. You check your phone to find like eight notifications. Surely one of them is important and needs your attention (2)

b. Surely one of the boys said they’d be here too, you haven’t seen them since like… this morning. It couldn’t hurt to catch them up on all the work you haven’t done (3)

c. No, you know what, you don’t need to procrastinate. You’re definitely going to commit to studying – but a quick break to stretch your legs couldn’t hurt (4)

d. Screw this. Studying from home might actually work better. Plus, you’re pretty sure that you just saw a hookup from first-year that you ghosted (5)

2.

Sure enough, not one text or missed call, but there’s a smorgasbord of new memes in the flatmate group chat and a message about how much of a wasted opportunity it would be to have a few drinks tonight on such a nice day. A few drinks after a hard day's work couldn’t hurt, could they? Or maybe skim over the socials for a little –it's not like that’ll get away from you?

a. Hell yeah, you made it into campus. Surely that’s enough to warrant a few brews later (6)

b. A few TikToks would be perfect to get you into the mindset to get some work done, you’ll only watch a few and you’ll be back into it (7)

c. A flick through Instagram and you’re pretty sure the notification from that girl in high school has something to do with you (8)

might help (E1)

d. Toilet time. You need a piss and holding it might actually be making you dumber (13)

5.

That's sure as hell right. Let's go home. But on the way, what harm could a little break do? I mean you'll get into the study as soon as you're home, but life’s a journey after all right?

a. Nope, I’m going home. I’m gonna get into the things I have to do (14)

b. A little walk through the Botans would be nice, the nature will be good for me (E1)

c. A shortcut through Castle Street will make things quicker and then we can get right back to it (6)

6.

“Mmm there's really nothing better than having a few brews,” you think to yourself. Exams being set right as we get into summer should be a crime. Looking around, you've already wandered off from the library towards the liquor store on auto-pilot. It's been 30 minutes and it looks like plans for drinks have been organised.

a. No, you know what, I really can't afford to get drunk right now. I mean this is my entire degree we're talking about here. Maybe I'll just try studying from home (14)

b. Oh fuck it, I’m already here. I’ll just get a calm 6-pack and I’ll meet up with the flatmates for a few in a bit (E3)

c. I already made plans, I can’t bail on them. I'll go along to drinks, I’m sure it can't go that hard (E2)

d. Wine and study time almost rhymes, and that's enough of a motivator to get yourself a bottle-shaped study buddy (15)

By Nicky Patterson Illustrated by Sarah Kreft

d. You open Tinder for some swipes. Exam season has been rough already and at least this way you’ll have something to look forward to come the end of books (9)

3.

You manage to find one of the lads posted up on the second floor staring aimlessly into nowhere. As you call over to him, he goes from being a lifeless husk to a real person again, but you can see that hope fading. What are you gonna ask him while he's still lucid?

a. “How's the study going so far?” (10)

b. “How was the rest of your night with the girl on Saturday?” (8)

c. “What’s the plan for tonight, then?” (6)

d. “Surely come for a bit of a walk?” (4)

4.

Right, studious as ever, you know that a bit of exercise gets the brain blooding and the flow pumping… okay maybe you do need to get your brain going cause whatever that was was not a great start to study. Where are we headed?

a. Just a short stroll around the library and then right back to your desk (11)

b. Maybe check out the vending machines or skim a Critic – honestly just a little brain break (12)

c. Just a little trip outside, some fresh air

7. As you're scrolling, watching time pass in the corner of your screen and ten-second clips of Reddit stories over Minecraft videos, you can't help but feel nostalgic of when things were simpler. You begin to wonder if you can really afford to keep scrolling when you clearly have other stuff to do. Are you going to stop?

a. Yeah of course, just like a few more and that's all I'm sure (E9)

b. Yeah you know what, I’m gonna check out those old memes I had saved from back in high school. Things were simpler then (E11)

c. Yeah and it's time to really start getting serious and finishing work (1)

d. Okay, I would but that TikToker was actually pretty hot. Maybe I'll just check out their profile quickly (15)

8. It really doesn't, and to be honest your ex being in the pic with their new partner was a hit to the ego that you really just didn't need right now. But as you skim the stories in attempt to ignore the tears welling up you seem to spot something worth stopping on

a. The good old Critic Te Ārohi page. Surely some wounders giving you the only news you consume at this point will take your mind off it (E10)

b. That DIY craft page that you got really into for three days and then completely forgot about within a month (E5)

c. That guy who got really into conspiracies shared something called ‘dead internet theory’. Honestly probably better than getting back to work even if it’s bullshit (E6)

d. Your ex's instagram profile, really? (9)

9.

Man, it really has been a long time huh. Or has it? Spending so many nights studying or lying in bed staring at the ceiling adding up your grades to try and figure out how little you'd need to pass really does throw the concept of time out the window. Who are we going to swipe right on and hope to match?

a. Oh chat, it's one of your mates from halls and you haven't seen them in ages. Surely they'd be keen to go for a couple of drinks tonight to ease the study break tensions (16)

b. Damn that breatha doesn't look that bad to be honest. I mean, him and his friends all have odd coloured stains on them, but it looks like it might be water on his jeans? (E2)

c. Oh they look straight out of your dreams, and they messaged first! This must be your lucky day. Who needs study, you've found the one, right? (17)

d. None of them, they aren’t her. If I just keep swiping I'll find her, and it’ll just be like that one perfect night in town (E11)

10.

Whatever he's studying is boring as hell. After just a few sentences of him telling you about the important differences between graphs that look like waves and graphs that look like slides, you realise it's been nearly 30 minutes. Quick, it looks like he's on the verge of talking about P values –what are you going to change the topic to?

a. “So, what’ve you been into other than books lately?” (E6)

b. You're tired all a sudden. Maybe just say your goodbyes and get through those last few lectures (19)

c. “Fuck… anyway. I'll tell you what, I've got a P value I gotta take care of. I'll be back in a sec” (13)

d. Nothing. At this point you don’t even remember why you came over here… (E9)

11. As you continue to wander around aimlessly, you start to think about how nice it’ll be once you're finished. I mean, jeez, it's going to be such a load of stress off and you’ll have so much free time, and isn't the weather just so nice outside this time of… you look around and notice that you can't actually see outside, or any windows or even anyone else grimacing over study. In fact, you don't recognise anything about where you are. It's nothing but beige wallpaper, and old brown floors – you’ve found yourself in the backrooms…

a. Quick, maybe turning around you'll able to find a way out (11)

b. You know what, maybe you can just push on ahead and you'll find a way out (E13)

c. Maybe if you just close your eyes, you'll wake up and this will all be over? (E9)

12.

You’ve finished the crossword, found out that you’re spending way too much time overthinking from your horoscope, and the snap of the week had a guy’s nut sack in a textbook with the caption “balls deep in study”. At this point you might as well read an article right?

a. I haven't kept up with the Critic Bachelor but surely reading about the ending of that can’t hurt for some love life inspo? (9)

b. Ohhh a choose your own adventure story! You haven't done one of those since you pretended that Goosebumps actually counted for your required reading in primary school (1)

c. Booze Review, ‘cos drinking nothing but Hyoketsu and Soju for the past six months has not been great for you in hindsight (6) d. “Nah,” you think, “honestly if it were me, I think I could write something really great…” (E10)

13.

There's nothing like taking a good long piss, and maybe that's what's been holding back your studying. After all, a full bladder means an empty head. But you’ve gotta get back to work now right?

a. Yeah, now that that's out of the way you feel so relaxed. In fact, you think you could almost get comfy at your desk (19)

b. Okay, but sitting down on the loo just to check your phone will mean twice the productivity when you’re back (7)

c. Yeah you'll just wander back now that you're done… (11)

d. You’re way too worried about things not working out. How about just taking a second to calm down, check your fit, and breathe. It'll be okay (E12)

14.

There's nothing better for getting work done than doing it from the comfort of your own home. Now that you’re back at the flat, though, you've gotta get cosy. What are you going to do to get ready to really knuckle down?

a. Those old crafts I had lying around would be perfect to get the creativity flowing and the work commitment started

b. Getting cosy in bed is the best place to start. The laptop’s right there and it's the one place you feel relaxed

c. At your desk, it's time to study. You'll just put on some YouTube videos in the background and really get some work done (E6)

15. Whether through hedonism, loneliness, or the fact that you’re sure that nothing could fuck you harder than the 27 lectures you have to get through that you’ll do eventually, you really need a bit of release. So what's it going to be?

16. You really try and hit things off with her, you really do, but go figure she’s got a boyfriend now and it turns out that the study stress is now at an all time high. After she calls it at two drinks and heads home, you're alone and at a bar. What are you going to do about it?

a. What's a couple more to tie the night off? (E3)

b. Go for the classic: “up 2” text to save your shattered ego (E2)

c. A couple of shots of liquid confidence and try to talk to someone there. I mean there's that hottie sitting by themselves, and getting shut down twice can't really hurt as much right? (17)

d. Go home. You’re sad, broke, and still haven't gotten anything done today (14)

17. Wow, this actually worked and they’re keen to come back to your place for a nice night together – a promise of a bit of KFC, a nice movie, and getting close under the sheets in a way that would disappoint God. But shit, you haven't done any of the work you need to and if you don't there's no way you're going to pass. What do you do?

a. Who cares? This is the best night you’ve had in a while, the study can wait (E7)

b. Oh yeah, okay fine just a few lectures, I’m sure they'll understand (E8)

a. Ask that cutie who's been checking you out if they want to study together

b. Use your laptop for something other than ChatGPT summaries of the readings you never got round to

c. Tinder, because no one’s ever been disappointed with a hookup on Tinder

E1: Gore

There's nothing like a bit of the outdoors to soothe that stress and get the blood pumping in the brain. In fact, you could go for a little bit longer of a walk. This is really starting to help with sussing out what you know and what you’ve got to get done. “It's all really starting to come together,” you think to yourself. C’s get degrees. It's too bad that it turns out you had a lot of things to organise up in the noggin’, because by the time you come to, you have no idea where you are but the Dunedin sign pointing in the way you just came means it’s definitely not Dunedin. As you look up in horror at the giant trout staring back at you, you see the sign and realise you're in Gore, God help you. But you’ll just call a mate and it'll all be over. Or not. Like every other asshole who goes for a walk that lasts way too long, you left all of your stuff, phone included, at the library. Oh well, being stuck in a wasteland still beats studying for stats exams!

E2: No pants, no keys

As you wake up and look around, you realise you really shouldn't have settled for such an average hookup. You’re covered in what you hope is their sweat (but you know is something far worse) and try to scavenge for your things in their disgustingly messy room. You piece together everything but your pants. Unfortunately, your keys were in your pants and, worse, your phone as well. Great. Talk about a regretful time, time… wait, shit, what’s the time? You manage to find their phone and, squinting at the cracked screen, you see that it's almost time for your morning exam. "That's okay" you think, you can just borrow some of their pants and it'll be fine. You manage to wake them up, but as it turns out all of their clothes aside from the pants they pissed the night before have been sitting in the washing machine, wet, for the last week. As you heave open the lid, you smell the clump of mould-covered clothes before you see it. You're out of time. You run up the street to St David’s with nothing but a pencil and your lack of dignity. Smelling of piss and regret, you sit down to begin your exam.

E3: Hangxiety

You don’t recognise the room you’ve woken up in. The place is a mess, there's passed out people sprawled all over the place, and what you're fairly sure is either a small dog or a really large rat just skittered away into one of the rooms. As you pull yourself from the vomit-smeared couch you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the TV. Then you see it: the horrible attempt at a Mike Tyson face tattoo stick and poked on your face. Panic. You try and rub it off to no avail and, as you open your phone to missed text after missed text, you realise your exam is tomorrow. Good luck because you still have no idea where your notes are and you're really going to need those if you want to pass. But hey, look on the bright side: if you fail second-year Med, you're already halfway to becoming a Soundcloud rapper.

E4: Wank

Incognito mode in hand, you match the number of Evision links and unwatched lecture tabs open to shameful interests. You hope they’ll take your mind off of things enough to finish as quickly as possible in order to get back to watching those studyrelated tabs. Unfortunately, you really can't help looking back at the study-tabs as you play your instrument solo. As your eyes dart away from amateur clips of shitty acting towards the tabs on cellular mitosis, you can't help but feel the stress building, but you're too far along now not to finish. As you continue choking the chain and playing second fiddle, you find yourself turned on. The stress is a part of the excitement at this point. After a cycle that lasts far longer than you care to admit, you reach the end of your one-handed attempt at playing rock paper scissors by yourself and find relief. But as you reopen those tabs the next morning ready to get stuck into the work at hand, you feel the crushing weight of the things you left to the last minute… and become turned on. Oh God, this can't be how things are now. Sadly, it is. You’ve pavloved yourself into being turned on by study.

E5: Craft

“There's nothing better for getting things going than a bit of creativity,” you think as you throw yourself at your untouched crochet supplies. Filled with an undeserved confidence, you look up a tutorial for making a brand new addition to your wardrobe on YouTube. As time goes by, you realise what felt like 30 minutes has in reality been several hours. Despite not touching a word of the fifteen readings and lab tutorials you had, you've crafted yourself something that will give you the confidence to make tomorrow's exam a walk in the park. When you wake up the next morning and don your DIY masterpiece, you strut into your exam with a profound sense of self. If only you’d actually known what you were doing – your hastily-crafted fashion statement unravels back into the yarn it once was, leaving you sitting at your chair, nipples exposed. Let's hope for your sake that this walk in the park has no cool breezes, lest you find yourself really making a mountain out of a molehill.

E6: Dead Internet

The man in front of you rambles and rants of big AI being the only thing on the internet, and how there are no real people at all on the internet. Despite the fact that he looks like he’d sell his own tin foil hat brand and is a cigarette and pin board away from looking like that one scene in Always Sunny in Philadelphia might have a point. Think about it: you never see your lecturers in person, it's just online, and the people in your class – you haven’t been so you wouldn't even know if they’re real. Come to think of it, that girl on Tinder you’ve been talking to just seems to keep trying to get you to follow her Instagram. Maybe no one’s real at all? That can't be right, but as you look for anyone that's a real person, you realise that you can't find anyone. Just as you seem to think all hope is lost, you turn to see a man in a black trenchcoat, with his hands outstretched offering you two pills: “So what will it be Mr Anderson?”

E7: Not Real

Ah, a perfect night. But before you can get intimate with one another, you feel the pull of sleep, wrestling you away from the perfect crescendo. “It's alright,” you think to yourself, “Morning sex will do.” It'll be a great way to put your best foot forward going into the new day. But as you awake, you find that you aren't in your bed, and there is no perfect someone looking back at you. In fact, you've just been sleeping at your desk in the library, and that perfect someone you've been sharing personal thoughts and intimate kisses with is the picture of Sigmund Freud on the cover of your textbook. By the looks of the people sitting next to you, you have not been quiet about things either. Sad and embarrassed, you pack your things quickly and leave. Maybe all that talk of calling your dream visitor daddy was not the best idea.

E8: real

“They'll understand,” you think, as you pull out your laptop with the promise of one lecture, and you couldn't be more wrong if you said that just watching the lectures on 2x speed made up for never watching them at all. Frustrated with you, they pack their things and leave, without even a mention of wanting to set things up for a chance to see them again. Disheartened by this, you try to push on through the lecture, but everything just reminds you of what you missed out on (animal mating rituals is a rough topic to cover at a time like this). Figuring that just checking your Facebook feed will fix your disposed slump, you open it to find a brand new meaningful confession. Go figure, it’s from someone that thinks KFC and watching lectures is a romantic night. That's rough, buddy.

E9: Disassociate

You find yourself lost in thought, spiralling deeper and deeper into contemplations of nothingness, and everything, everywhere, all at once. Time passes you by like leaves on the wind. Before you know it, a profound “HELLO!” knocks you back to reality. But

ENDINGS

this isn't the desk you were just at, and you don’t look like you once did. In fact, you look like you’ve spent the last twenty years doing nothing on autopilot. You look at the newfound desk in front of you and see spreadsheets. Oh God, is that data entry? The overbearing frustrated man that shook you from your dreamstate tells you to have the spreadsheets to him by the end of day or you're finished. In the corner of the desk you see a framed photo of a sad dissatisfied woman and a man who looks broken down and depressed. Two children in front of them stare back at you with eyes that gleam with hatred for their parents. As you cast your gaze to the window, you see in the reflection that same beaten down broken man, and it's clear that the poor man in that photo is you. You’ve spent so long not thinking about anything that you ended up in a mournful existence of your own creation.

Critic

You think, “Yeah, I could definitely write something amazing, much better than anything else in the magazine anyway.” It'll be funny and well-written and you won't even need this degree; someone’s going to hire you for your literary talents from that article alone. As you zone out thinking of topics and ways you'll change the world of student media, you come back to find yourself at a different desk, staring at a computer that isn't yours, writing a choose your own adventure story. And by the looks of it, man you've been procrastinating it. You better hurry up and get this done, Mrs Critic looks like she's not happy, especially since the deadline was

back in time

As you swipe and scroll your way in an attempt to rekindle that long lost spark from when you were once young and full of joy, you finally find that piece of nostalgia from when things weren't so complicated: like boogie boarding. Unfortunately for you, in your haste you scroll past it and just like that, it’s gone. But as you vainly try to go back and find it, you realise you can’t and looking around things seem different. You're no longer surrounded by grimacing young adults on the cusp of finishing their degrees. Instead, you're surrounded by old books and kids in unironed highschool uniforms. You look around in disbelief. This isn't the library you should be in. It’s your old highschool library, complete with the smell of Year 9 boys fresh out of PE (BYO and Lynx Africa). You want to throw up on the spot. You pinch yourself in an attempt to shake yourself from what must be a dream, but voice cracks and screeches are all you get in response. To make matters worse, you look at the computer screen and see: NCEA level 1 Science revision. Let’s hope you still remember what a titration is.

Stuck in bathroom

As you reach for the door handle after a shameful period of staring at the ceiling, wondering why you didn't just do a trade, and a pep talk in the mirror on how you're going to walk back out that door and really get things going, you realise that the door handle’s stuck. It almost seems to be locked, but that can't be right, no way. You try again and… nothing. The door’s firmly jammed shut. As you sit there on the floor staring at the door begging for someone to come and find you, you begin to sob under the weight of it all. The next day someone finds you huddled on the floor, as it turns out you just didn't turn the knob far enough and panicked yourself into a puddle of your own tears, how ironic.

Backrooms

You wander aimlessly through corridors that look the same, swearing you’d just been here, sounds of scuffling and unknowable moans keep you on edge, preventing you from forming a coherent plan. There are no windows, no clocks, no exit signs, just an endless labyrinth of liminal spaces that feel both oddly familiar and unsettlingly wrong. You begin to break down, every hint of something else being there is proved wrong as the corner just rounds to another empty corridor. There can be no hope in this place, no hope at all, as you slump to the floor surrounded by nothing but your own fears and loneliness. And to make matters worse, you were so sure that you would have passed with an A+ on that Chem exam.

2. What is your go-to music genre for a long shower?

a) Classical music, but it's really just the Bridgerton soundtrack

b) Top 40 hits, you have no backbone

c) Indie/surf rock, it’s just the Dunedin Sound you know

d) Soundcloud rap, because you are a Soundcloud rapper

e) Alpha mindset podcasts (e.g. Joe Rogan)

f) House, makes the mundane task of showering a bit like going to the club

By

f) The Marsh, the trudge down Castle is worth it for the ex-pub ambience

4. What do your Halloween plans look like?

a) You’re hosting the most lit party of the century dressed as Patrick Bateman

b) Cozied up in your PJs watching a spooky movie

c) You and a mate dress up as Remy and Linguini from Ratatouille and you’re on the sift on Castle Street (unsuccessfully)

d) Nitro hands with your flat dressed as Peaky Blinders

e) Dressing up as a hippie, but you green out just before you leave for a host

f) Your flat and neighbours are planning a mid host and are all dressing up as Smurfs or Minions. Good luck figuring out who dresses up as the main character…

Molly Smith Soppet & Emma Jackson

Illustrated by Connor Moffat

5. Your final exam has just finished. What are you doing to celebrate your newfound freedom?

a) It's time to go on a shopping spree, the money you haven't been spending on alcohol is going towards a new outfit

b) Sleeping for at least 12 hours and then rotting in bed for another

12

c) Having finished your exams earlier than all the flatties you know it's your duty to distract them by offering trips to the beach and Kmart, EVERY SINGLE DAY

d) You have been tied to your laptop for a month so it’s time for a disconnected vacay in the Catlins

e) It's time to live your dream life of bagels for breakfast and reading in the backyard all-day

f) Picking up a new hobby or three, you can’t stay still for more than a day and everyone is either still studying or has gone home

6. What drinks do you crave the second the sun comes out and the temp hits 18°C?

a) Any Clean Collective drink

b) Major Major

c) Fruit punch with a little umbrella in it

d) Double Browns

e) Alcoholic Ginger Beer

Corporate Baddie Intern

7. Which of these items would you steal if given the chance?

a) Cheetah print Adidas Sambas, whether to wear religiously or resell for a big buck

b) A new iPhone, yours is holding on by a thread

c) A large television, remote and all

d) A full set of brand-new Callaway golf clubs

e) The painted ‘Critic’ couch

f) A pair of vintage True Religion jeans

You are living the dream uni student life, getting to wear cute fits, gaining experience in your chosen field and buffing up that LinkedIn profile. Unfortunately, that also means grinding away for very little money and those $9 coffees add up. But keep pushing! Catch all the free rides you can from your parents, drink on the boss’s dime, and surely you will get through relatively unscathed.

Stuck in a Supermarket

Summer for you means transferring back to the supermarket/retail store down the street from your parent's house and being trapped in a building with Mariah Carey, Micheal Bublé and Snoopy’s Christmas on repeat for 40 hours a week. As Christmas nears, customers also get shittier, angrier, and more stressed. You feel like saying “same” to them since you forgot to book New Year's off so no RNV for you, just lots of people asking you what you're doing and you feeling sorry for yourself. But hey, someone needs to get the discount for Mum's Christmas ham!

Slave to the food service industry

You thought you could escape the hellscape trip-like experience of working another summer in a shitty little boutique cafe in your hometown. You thought wrong. You'll be back to pulling shots and buttering warm scones in a little over a month so be sure to prepare for that mentally. But the positive of a cafe job is that you are usually home by 3:30pm and can make the most of the warm summer evening. You'll return to Dunedin, tanned, rich, and with many great beach bonfire stories.

Mostly D’s: The deep chasm that is unemployment

Ahh the lazy days, when you do not need to worry about money because Mum and Dad said they will cover your rent ‘til the end of the year. Your days will be filled with chilling in the sun, being pestered about applying for jobs, and being forced to clean the house to ‘earn your keep’. You can be counted on to spearhead Crate Day plans and show up to every social event, box in hand. There’s nothing holding you back from the best three months of your life before going back to the academic grind.

Mostly E’s: Picking cherries #centralotagomindset

While you dreamed of living the Call Me By Your Name lifestyle in Cromwell, the bleary-eyed and bushytailed mornings will have you wishing you chose to go back home. But you’ve got dollar signs in your eyes, and know that the bolster to your savings will make it all worth it in the end. In the meantime, keep your eyes peeled for that cute, tanned foreigner to have that idyllic summer romance with: exchanging novels, riding on bikes through town, and eating real-fruit ice cream.

Mostly F’s: You're gonna live the Mamma Mia lifestyle

Donna Sheridan’s spirit lives in you. You're getting the fuck out of not only Dunedin, but New Zealand as a whole. Whether you're off to find yourself in Europe, visit distant relatives in Aussie, or ski the slopes of Japan, you are sure to come back with a digicam full of memories and the uncanny ability to bring your travels up in every conversation. Make sure to put lots of photos on Instagram, the rest of us aren’t bitter at all as we work 40 hours a week at our minimum-wage jobs.

APresidental

Presidental

OUTGOING

ddress

Tēnā koutou,

Wow! What a year! We laughed, we cried, we paddled the flooded Leith, we got a new plinth, and had a lot of $4 lunch along the way. In one of my final acts of dictatorship, I am stealing these two pages of Critic Te Ārohi.

I have lived many different lives at this university, floating from subgroup to sub-group of people. I have been a Leith Street breathess, a research master's student, president of snow sports club, staff writer for Critic, an insecure first year desperate to find my place, and a proud international lucky enough to be your president.

I want to take this time (and space) to try and paint you a picture of everything I have learned throughout my oddly diverse time at university in the hopes you learn something new that will benefit you in the future. Mainly, as a walking contradiction, I want to explore all the contradictions I have encountered.

Everything at this university is a contradiction. A beautiful, cherry-blossom-covered yet Burns-buildingwielding contradiction. But it is our contradiction and I would rather be crying in our library than Vic’s or Canterbury’s any day of the week.

First, I do not trust the university. But I do trust the people at the university, most all of them actually. Over the past year, I’ve encountered numerous situations where I was firm in my beliefs, only to have them challenged by logical explanations that broadened my perspective. What once seemed one-sided turned out to have layers I hadn’t considered, and all it took was a conversation to build understanding.

It is also within these conversations that trust was built. I trust these people to make good, level-headed decisions. I trust that most people are genuinely doing the best that they can do. But I will always doublecheck for myself. I challenge everyone to do the same – to trust the people around them are telling the truth. Trust that, even if it doesn’t appear that way, that person is acting in the best interest. But never just read headlines or believe others unfounded.

Second, it’s not that deep, and it’s also the Mariana trench. Nothing you do matters and I mean this in the most fun kind of way. North Dunedin, and Dunedin more generally, is built for people to free will max. You can just get up, pack a bag, and be in Milford Sound in under half a day. You can put on a massive suit and camp in St David’s for 24 hours. No one will stop you.

Deadlines for essays are made up; ask for an extension. The environment is so conducive for silly hijinks and making the most of that will provide you with some incredible memories and stories. But at the same time, everyone will remember exactly how you treated them and how you made them feel. There is a reason why people’s lifelong mates come from university. This is your community to look after and your legacy to leave behind.

to see Liam take the reins and lead OUSA into a bright green sunset. He is committed, caring, and stable in ways I will never understand. You get an executive who will continue to advocate, fight, and represent students’ best interests.

This year has been a whirlwind. I have learned more than I could have ever imagined, met some of the most interesting people, and challenged myself in a multitude of ways. I remember being a timid, insecure second-year Politics student dreaming that one day I might have the courage to stand for the executive. Never once did I ever imagine myself in this role. Even last year I never thought I would be able to handle it. However, humans are adaptable – especially us students in our glory years. Time and again you are able to push yourself beyond what you think is possible.

While I never studied Psych or Neuroscience, a basic understanding I have is as follows: as soon as you accomplish something, it becomes a normal thing that your brain knows you can handle. This is how people become alcoholics, but it is also how people run marathons and get PhDs. The path is yours for the taking. It doesn’t mean people want to hear about it however (looking at you sub-3 hours marathon runners).

If I can give one piece of advice to all those returning next year it is this: Push yourself. There is not a better place than Otago to learn, make mistakes, and grow. Kia kaha.

Other random advice that I couldn’t figure out how to fit into the paragraphs:

• Sleeping is an insane hack to feeling better

• Professors are there to help. Talk to them.

The Craic is the only bar that sells picklebacks.

• Never lie your computer flat on the ground; lean it up against something.

• Make a flatting CV to give out when viewing flats.

• During exam study, make a list of all the things you want to do (like hikes) before you forget about it immediately after exams. Call your mum, she probably misses you.

Keegan Wells OUSA President 2024

By Jodie Evans & Charlotte Gillespie Illustrated by Aria Tomlinson

“Welcome to a dog shit dimension, where everyone is infected with something that they got from fucking.” Back in May, we attended Otago’s annual Capping Show, and much like every other year, Sexually Transmitted Infections (STIs) were the punchlines of a handful of sketches and musical numbers. This particularly catchy verse rang throughout the auditorium in a rendition of ‘Hamilton Chlamydiot’. While neither living in Hamilton nor contracting Chlamydia is all that fun, the latter isn’t something to be ashamed of. STI-related stigma is rife in our student community, and it’s spreading. So why are our conversations about STIs so rooted in shame? Two hard-to-embarrass, sex-positive postgrads are here to start the conversation, and hopefully clear up some misconceptions.

How did we get here?

Cast your mind back to Year 9 sex education. Perhaps you were tasked with rolling a condom onto a banana. Maybe you were shown some gruesome pictures of lesion-covered vulvas and penises on a PowerPoint presentation that had been recycled since the early ‘90s. Or worse, you were just told to not have sex at all. Until marriage, that is, because STIs famously can’t be contracted if you are lawfully wed (for legal reasons, this is a joke). Knowledge, crucial to sexual wellbeing, was hurried through by embarrassed teachers to a class of equally embarrassed teens.

Take discharge for example (not a sentence we thought we’d ever say). No one told fourteen-yearold Jodie that it was a natural bodily function. So when puberty hit, and with only those awkward health classes to go by, she came to the only logical conclusion she could find. In biblical Virgin Mary-esque fashion, without having had any kind of sexual encounter, she worried she had contracted chlamydia. With a little Googling and the no-show of any wise men (let alone three), she realised this couldn’t be the case. This isn’t a unique tale. Gaps in knowledge have meant misconceptions about sexual health run rife in the student community. One of Charlotte’s friends went to the GP about a lump on her vulva she was worried about, which turned out to be her clitoris. Another student shared with Critic that they’d once thought chlamydia was a type of crustacean (anyone fancy a Bog basket?).

With such a limited foundation in sexual health education, many of us were left filling in the gaps with whatever we could find on SkyTV, or in an incognito tab on the family computer. Unfortunately, these sources don’t always give us the naked truth. Media often equates having an STI to being ‘dirty’ and irresponsible. As if contracting one is a damning reflection of your character, rather than a potential reality of being a sexually active adult. In 2017, John Oliver – the same person who fucked with the 2023 Bird of the Year competition – compared herpes to terrorism. On top of this, film and TV have fueled the fire of misconceptions

about STIs. A particularly unlikable character in the teen classic Easy A gets his ‘karma’ in the form of a chlamydia infection, and is seen writhing in pain in hospital. But in reality, chlamydia can often have no visible symptoms. Also, we’re pretty sure karma-ydia doesn’t exist.

Closer to home, a 2018 Critic Te Ārohi Booze Review read, “Corona is like herpes, because every third person in the room has it, and it’s usually a fuckboi,” suggesting that the only people who get herpes are those who have a lot of sex (not true) and that having lots of sex is a bad thing (also not true). Then there’s the Facebook page UoO Meaningful Confessions. Every time there’s an honest admission from someone discovering they’ve contracted an STI, the comment section becomes nothing more than a stream of breathas

tagging their mates: “Not again buddy.” Can’t be very comforting to the brave soul who sent in the submission.

Don’t get us wrong, a joke or two can be an excellent social lubricant. Critic knows better than anyone, humour can bring people together and strengthen a community. In North D we are a uniquely close-knit community. But that, our sexually active friends, is also exactly why we need to discern facts from fiction.

The Cold, Hard (!) Facts

Cutting through the myths and misconceptions to get to the facts, Critic Te Ārohi spoke to (s)expert Katie McCullough from Just the Facts, a sexual well-being resource focused on delivering easy-tounderstand sexual health information to rangatahi. Katie is a clinical lead and nurse practitioner for the Sexually Transmitted Infections Education Foundation (STIEF), so she knows all the ins and outs of the in and out.

First and foremost, Katie stressed that contracting an STI is not a moral failing. She reminded us that, despite what we have heard growing up, “STIs are medical conditions, and are part of being human.” Having an STI does not make you ‘less than’ your peers. In fact, most of us will have at least one STI during our lifetime. A whopping 80% of New Zealanders have herpes in one form or another – that’s eight out of the ten people in your group project – and there are thousands of new chlamydia and gonorrhoea cases every year.

Once again, contrary to Easy A’s depiction of a regretful teen clutching his crotch and screaming in agony, many of these cases will be asymptomatic. It’s because of this, Katie told us, that getting regular sexual health checks is important, even if you don’t have any visible symptoms. The good news is most STIs are curable, and all are treatable. It’s when stigma and fear lead to avoidance, and STIs are left untreated, that things can take a turn for the worse. Katie warned that a culture of STI shaming “can deter people from sexual health services, resulting in complications such as chronic pain or infertility, [and] risk transmitting infections to others.”

Getting tested is easier than contracting the fresher flu during Flo-Week. However, much like Otago students trying to get by in winter, STIs hibernate. All STIs have ‘window periods’ where the virus may not show up on a test. So if it’s recent unprotected sex you are worried about, check with the receptionist about when is best to book a cheeky check-up. Critic would never tell you to do anything we haven’t done ourselves. So for research purposes, we sent Jodie to get an STI WoF

at Dunedin Hospital Sexual Health Clinic (Charlotte hasn’t had sex in two years so she stayed at home*).

Booking the appointment was a breeze. A quick phone call with a cheery receptionist that would put anyone at ease had Jodie booked in for two days’ time. Located just inside the Frederick Street entrance of the hospital, the waiting room was an eclectic mix of people, complete with your classic candy bowls of free condoms. The clinician welcomed Jodie into her office and asked her some chill questions about her sexploits and then equipped her with a self-swab kit (which brought back eye-watering pandemic flashbacks). Alas, a quick trip to the loo proved this self-swab was easy peasy and painless. If you have a penis, the test for you usually consists of simply pissing in a cup. Jodie also received a blood test for HIV and syphilis (the latter of which is making a global comeback bigger than low-rise jeans). All this for $12.99 less than a Nitro! (it’s free). A few days later, whilst Jodie was deep in a thesis-induced spiral, she received a text message with the results. All clear, and she could go right back to catastrophizing her degree.

But for those who might receive a positive result, we have some (just the) tips for the next steps. Katie shared some words of comfort: “You're not alone, and millions of people live with STIs.” In terms of treatment, you are in safe hands with your local sexual health clinician. When telling sexual partners, Katie emphasised that “honesty and compassion is key.” If you’re having an in-person chat, it might help to “choose a private setting, be clear and factual, and explain what steps you're taking to manage your health.”

Although difficult, these kinds of conversations are part of responsible, mature relationships (even your messy situationship) and are about protecting each other. If someone is a dick about it, it only reflects their lack of sexual education in the face of so much stigma. When Charlotte once told a partner she had a UTI, he came to the conclusion she must have cheated and threatened to break things off. When, in fact, the only third person involved was Mr E.Coli taking a trip somewhere he shouldn’t, after she neglected to piss after sex. Education matters.

The Climax

Sure, humour can break the ice and diffuse tension when it comes to tricky topics (take a shot for every sex pun that has penetrated this very article). However, jokes that incite fear and spread misinformation can have huge consequences for the mental and physical health of our Otago community. If you’re sexually active, try to have open communication with your partners, keep

learning about your sexual health, and use protection. Don’t be shy; dig into that OUSAprovided condom bowl. As we learnt today, “STIs are a common part of human interaction and contact. It’s essential to reframe these conversations to normalise sexual health as a routine aspect of overall well-being.” The less taboo, stigma, and choruses of ‘Hamilton

Chlamydiot’ we hear, chances are the healthier we’ll all be.

*Revised: Charlotte ended her dry spell so she’s booked in for a test in two weeks time xo

Resources

Sexual Wellbeing Aotearoa (formally Family Planning): 07 810 6610

Dunedin Sexual Health Clinic: 0800 742 546

Herpes and HPV Helpline: 09 433 6526 info@stief.org.nz Just The Facts: www.justthefacts.co.nz or @justthefactsnz

Student Health Otago: 03 479 8212

SOMETHING TO WATCH

weeklyspecials

The Critic Bachelor Finale Video Critic slipped and produced a reality TV series this semester: Critic Bachelor. It wasn’t until the ten singles who’d signed up showed up to the office for the first group date that we realised what we’d signed everyone up for. After a semester-long journey of love, Joel wrote a beautiful speech where he announced Brad as the winner of his heart, and Hunter (video editor) cut this together with flashbacks of their journey that’ll bring a tear to your eye – a real one, unlike Lily’s after she lost. Nice try, Lily. You can find it on Critic’s Instagram (@criticmag) <3.

SOMETHING TO READ

The Room

Real ones will know that this is a repeat but it needs to be said: some people need to learn to read the fucking room now and then. Just take a quick squiz, gauge the vibes, see the reaction of the people around you. If people are locking in to work in the study room you’ve fought tooth and nail to book, don’t listen to TikToks at max volume and laugh like you’re at a comedy gig. This is an especially important skill going into exam season.

SOMETHING TO LISTEN TO

The Rest of Charli xcx’s Discography Outside of brat

We get it, brat is a good album. The Pope is Catholic. But how about you expand your inner hot girl and listen to literally any of Charli xcx’s other albums, EPs, or remixes released after 2015. Working with the legendary music producer SOPHIE (rest in peace), these songs set the foundation for what brat girl summer would become, and were pretty ahead of their time. Special mentions go to “I Got It” from Pop 2 and “Pink Diamond”, “Forever”, and “Party 4 U” from How I’m Feeling Now. “Vroom Vroom” is also essential Laneway prep. Put those sunglasses on, grab your Bic lighter, and feel superior.

SOMETHING TO GO TO

OUSA Annual General Meeting

The OUSA AGM is coming up on October 17th in the Main Common Room – that liminal space opposite Auahi Ora where you take a breather from Union Hall DnB gigs. At least 0.5% of the student body need to show up to make it legit (aka meet quorum), something you’d think would be easy to reach but in 2022 they couldn’t reach it, and last year it was only just met. They needed 105 people, and they got 106. If you’ve ever complained about something to do with being a student (*cough* no student bar), this is your chance to talk to the people who can do something about it.

SOMETHING TO SUPPORT

‘They Save, We Pay’ Campaign

In case you missed it, the new Dunedin Hospital is under threat. The coalition government has decided it’s too expensive to invest in healthcare, while at the same time offering a tax cut to landlords. The Dunedin City Council has gone ham in a campaign ‘They Save, We Pay’ and mobilised a rally of 35k people a couple weeks ago –keep an eye out for any future ways that you can get behind them!

SOMETHING TO CANCEL

Expressing opinions about something you know nothing about There is nothing more cringe than loudly asserting your opinion on something that you know nothing about. If you don’t have the facts to back up what you’re saying, sit the fuck down and let others who do know what they’re talking about educate you. Listen and you might learn something. Maybe the next time the topic comes up you’ll be able to contribute something meaningful!

COZY COMEDY

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RADIO ONE'S 40TH BIRTHDAY THE CROWN HOTEL

Featuring The Futurians, Space Bats, Attack!, Becca Caffyn (band), and DJ Bax b2b Risk. Tickets from undertheradar.co.nz. 7.30pm.

花溪 FLOWERSTREAM YOURS w/ Hōhā and Vagina Dry. Tickets from undertheradar. co.nz. 8pm. All ages.

SOUL SIDE ALBUM RELEASE PORT CHALMERS PIONEER HALL w/ The Shenatics, Krood, Askhole, and Talking Furniture. 6.30pm. $10.

EMILY ALICE - RECORD FUNDRAISER PEARL DIVER w/ Kade Reef and Raheem. Tickets from undertheradar.co.nz. 8pm.

AUDIO LOUNGE

THE DAZE - 'PRETTY GIRLS BREAK HEARTS' SINGLE RELEASE THE CROWN HOTEL w/ Caribou and J. R. Williams. Tickets from undertheradar.co.nz. 8.30pm.

A Y U Featuring youbeepastablaster, Lara Rose, and Sydney Manowitz + Nick Sheen. Tickets from undertheradar.co.nz. 6.30pm. All ages.

The hypoCRITICals are the finest band in all of Ōtepoti –coincidentally consisting of Critic’s own staff. The band is news editor Hugh on rhythm guitar, design intern Connor on lead guitar, video editor Hunter on drums, horoscope columnist Molly on bass and Bachelor columnist Hanna on vocals. Critic Te Ārohi sat the band down – adorned in their own band tees – in their natural habitat (the office) to talk about their rapid success. This is nepo to the extreme.

It all began with Hugh and Mollys’ love of live music, a fierce loyalty to U-Bar’s Pint Nights (they’re still atop the leaderboard), and wanting to form a band. Critic even recalls a time where they were walking home from Pint Night, pint glasses in tow (allegedly) while singing ‘Daddy Cop’ from the TV show ‘The Rookie’.

The idea for a band started there, but didn’t come to fruition until they approached popstar Hanna Varrs, most known for her EP ‘Positive Self Talk’ which, according to her, you should “stream now”. The band became more complete once they reached out to the Critters (Critic’s staff group chat) asking for a drummer. Hunter sent in a video of him banging on his kit and was hired on the spot. “Someone else said they played but they didn’t have video proof so the choice was obvious,” says Molly.

Practices were held at Hunter’s place where they started to rehearse a cover of ‘Boyfriend’ by Justin Bieber. The hypoCRITICals’ debut was before an audience of onlookers at the Polytech Hub where they played the one song, thanked the audience, and promptly left. “That was a good performance,” reflected Hunter who did not join in due to the lack of a drum kit – so he bought a sandwich and parked up on a sofa. “It was a lot of fun to watch.”

Their “proper” debut was at Dig the Gig, a student band competition hosted by Errick’s in June. “We had to write two original tunes for it [...] I had a leftover one from when I was

fourteen called ‘Pen Without Ink’ so I hashed it out a bit more with the band,” says Hanna. “And I wrote a song about trains,” adds Hunter. ‘Trainspotting’ (nothing to do with the movie) is a crowd favourite due to its sing-along chorus. “I think that makes The hypoCRITICals so special,” says Hanna. “I’d never think or know how to write a song like that.” Due to those bangers and the great response they received (perhaps due to stacking the crowd with friends and family), the band managed to make it to the semi finals of Dig the Gig – as a wild card. “It was so freaking awesome, we were so proud of ourselves,” mentions Molly.

The band agrees that they began to feel more fleshed out when design intern Connor joined after mentioning that he played guitar – and he could play well. “His ability to pick up a tune, that was sick. It was unanimous that he would join the band,” says Hugh. Then all the band needed was a logo, which Critic’s designer Evie happily did in exchange for a box. They also wanted to record a song, which Radio One programme manager Fi did for a box as well.

But it seems The hypoCRITICals in their current form won’t exist for long, soon to become more of a concept than a band. Molly explains, “Hugh and I will probably leave next year so we can just get new staff or contributors from Critic to join the band. Anyone in the office can be part of it, which I think is really cool.” Hanna adds, “We could have like two bass players, three guitarists, a keyboard player, and someone on vocals and that could be the band. It will evolve over time and become a tradition of sorts, which is very unique to the current music scene in Dunedin.”

If you want to record the band's music they will pay for it with a box. Otherwise you can follow the band on Instagram @ thehypocriticals for upcoming gigs.

By Jordan Irvine

FOR:

There are endless reasons why you should drop out, marry rich, and start a failing pottery business. First and foremost, we live in a material world, and we are all material people. We like material things. Marrying rich gives you this materiality. This is not something that you get from a degree. From a degree you literally only get a piece of paper (and in some cases PTSD).

If you marry rich, you get cold, hard cash. Why is this good? Well firstly, you don’t have to worry about your university assignments. This means avoiding learning about all those horrible things, like regression, or the rule against perpetuities. Secondly, as they say, ignorance is bliss. You literally don’t have to worry about anything, because you don’t learn about the problems which face the world. This is probably quite comforting, as the world is quite a horrible place (but not for rich people).

If the apocalypse happens, you get a nice plush bunker in Queenstown. If the apocalypse doesn’t happen, and you get bored with your pottery, you can get a nepo job at an evil multinational food and drink processing conglomerate corporation and you can be as mean as you like to the secretary, despite them working there for 20 years compared to your one. It would be impossible to get fired. There is also probably scope to get away with a variety of crimes, which means that you can feel powerful and superior compared to your degree-doing law-abiding loser friends. And you can afford various posh drugs.

Lastly, you can probably use your spouse's Koru Lounge subscription when you fly to your various holiday homes. This means an unlimited free flow of Panhead APA and this will make you happier than if you were doing university work.

AGAINST:

What’s the only thing separating us from law and med students? Morals. And we should care about them because in a world as arbitrary as ours, morals give us at least a shred of hope and comfort. Wealth, on the other hand, doesn’t care about right or wrong and is often created at the expense of other people's suffering. Deliberately marrying into it is just another layer of hypocrisy.

With the current recession and the nature of the globalised economy, trying to marry into wealth has never been harder with the number of bachelors and bachelorettes competing for limited spaces. This means that your chances of getting a sugar daddy are low. Plus, let's face it, after a few years of flatting in Dunedin the lack of sunlight and poor diet are going to make it hard to compete in this market. The best you can probably hope for is, like, upper middle class – devoid of agency and reliant on the housing investments of your spouse to continue to grow in wealth.

Finally, there’s the classical argument for the benefits of a university education and the ability to chart your own course. There will never be another time in your life where you'll be able to study a subject that you are genuinely interested in, live in abject squalor, and drink like a fish. Everyone's uni experience is different but it's almost certain to end with you having the ability to enter a profession that you're at least vaguely happy with. This means that you can fulfil whatever dreams you have without the risk of your partner preventing you from doing so. Even if you aren't fully convinced, there's always the opportunity of graduating first and then marrying into wealth.

SHOULD YOU DROP OUT MARRYAND RICH?

Debatable is a column written by the Otago University Debating Society. The Debating Society welcomes new members and meets at the Business School every Tuesday at 6pm.

Time:Makes:30-40dumplings

2 hours (less if you have some mates willing to help)

Dump lings

By Ruby Hudson

The time has come for the final recipe of the year! We all love a good dumpling so for a final end of the year treat have a go at making your own. This recipe is delicious, and makes a huge bunch of crispy potsticker dumplings. Dumplings are a bit of an undertaking, so I suggest making this a social event! Recruit your flatmates and friends to fold some dumplings and say goodbye to the academic

Thank you all for reading this years recipes, I hope you have found something you enjoyed and learned something along the way xx

Instructions:

Wrap your block of tofu in a tea towel and place between two chopping boards/ plates with a heavy object on the top. Press your tofu like this for approx. 30 mins while you prepare the rest of your ingredients.

Step 7. Take one of your wrappers and place 1 Tbsp of your mixture in the middle. Dip your finger into some water and spread on the inside edge of one half of your wrapper. Fold according to a video tutorial and set aside.

1/2 green cabbage (thinly sliced)

1 bunch spring onion (white section sliced)

4 cloves garlic (finely chopped)

Step 2. Place your sliced cabbage into a large bowl and sprinkle over ½ tsp of salt. Stir this until combined and set aside for 20 mins.

Step 8. Continue this process until you have used up all of your filling mixture or wrappers. Whatever is left over you can freeze and save

To cook your dumplings, place a large frying pan over medium heat with 2 Tbsp of oil. Ensure the pan has a lid. Once hot, add about ten dumplings to the pan and fry for 5 mins on one side only.

From here add a thin layer of hot water (approx. ¼ cup) to the bottom of the pan and quickly place the lid on to let the dumplings steam for 5 mins until the wrapper is translucent (be careful as this will splatter a bit, using hot water will make this less crazy). Remove the lid and cook for a further 4 mins until the dumplings are crispy on the bottom and have come loose from the pan. Repeat

became evident that the only energy drinks you can really get are Monsters. Thus, while you’re busy doom-scrolling Instagram reels instead of studying, Critic ranked the best Monster flavours so you don’t have to – really, don’t.

MONSTER JAVA

Monster Java is Monster’s attempt to combine an energy drink and an iced coffee in what would theoretically be the best of both worlds for anyone torn between them for their caffeine fix. The result, however, is an abomination that is not truly either, tasting just about as fake as Shane Reti’s plan to build the new hospital. But at least they had the decency not to carbonate this drink. The Mean Bean flavour, supposedly coffee and cream brewed with vanilla bean, is easily the best flavour of Monster Java. This shit is loaded with more sugar than the whitest girl can conjure up in a Starbucks’ order. If that flavour was bad, the Salted Caramel one took it to the next level. Sounds good on paper, but even for Monster it’s way too fucking sweet. In terms of caffeine content these both rock in at 140mg of caffeine in 305ml.

WHITE MONSTER ZERO ULTRA

Sugar-free energy drinks are a fad that deserve to fail, like Sambas or I Love Ugly hoodies. If you're going to have an energy drink, I don’t think you're considering your health while doing so. No, you want it pumped with sugar to the point where you don’t know what will make your heart give out first: the caffeine or the cholesterol. However, I’ll admit that this drink does offer a fairly refreshing citrus flavour, but without sugar it feels like Monster just wanted to skimp on ingredients and make people pay the same regardless.

Heart-attack likelihood: 5/10. Nothing like an energy drink to start your morning.

Anxiety: 7/10. Questioning the life choices that have led to drinking a Monster at 9am on a Monday.

Taste Rating: 5/10. Mid.

MANGO LOCO JUICE MONSTER

Heart-attack likelihood: 3/10. It’s coffee right? Can’t be that bad for you.

Anxiety: 5/10. Feel like pure shit, just want Barista Bros Iced Coffees back.

Taste Rating: 6/10. Starbucks girlies’ sweet tooths are no joke.

ULTRA ROSA

Easily the best Monster in the review, and undoubtedly the best energy drink for someone who has never had energy drinks. It really just tastes like a Just Juice with a twist – that being it’ll give you heart palpitations and enhanced anxiety. The fruitiness and tropicality will make you feel like you're in the Bahamas and not the Robbo, which works really well to distract you from the fact that you're having a panic attack and you have an assignment due in 45 minutes. It would make a great mixer, though. The caffeine content in the Mango Loco Juice Monster stands at 151mg for 500ml, so it’s the best Monster for getting that blood to brain circulation. Feel like this would make a great mixer though. Oh, I said that already.

Heart-attack likelihood: 6/10. It’s fine, it has trace amounts of vitamin C.

According to the description thrown on the back of the pink can by Monster’s marketing intern, Ultra Rosa has a “flora finish”. There's no way to describe it other than “it tastes like Ultra Rosa”. Slightly more accurate might be if you described it as licking a set of LEGO roses that are flavoured with trace amounts of perfume. I know Monster doesn’t scream “organic”, but this drink being sugar-free seems to have replaced the sugar with some type of acrylic plastics. Standing as the third 500ml energy drink of the day with 140mg of caffeine (three times the daily limit) it had created an unsettling amount of anxiety. Either that or I'm still trying to figure out what a Rosa is and what makes it Ultra.

Heart-attack likelihood: 8/10. Had to tap out for the day.

Anxiety: 8/10. Knees weak, arms are heavy.

Taste Rating: 5/10. Plastic.

Anxiety: 7/10. The name Mango Loco Juice Monster freaks me out.

Taste Rating: 8/10. So good I want to dig out the maracas!

MONSTER ORIGINAL

Chunny Bill Swilliams, mind, body and soul, couldn’t handle another Monster. This was meant to be a more comprehensive review, but due to not being able to sleep after two days of energy drink fuelled insanity, the pin had to be pulled. After a year of sinking piss in the name of journalism, it was the energy drinks that had me folded. Somehow sticking to booze seems like the healthier option here.

AQUARIUS

Group assignments are making you want to run away to Cuba and start a new life, but if you take the reins you can turn around the vibes and steer your group to at least a B+. Don't be fooled by that person who created the doc on the first day, they never do anything.

Inedible substance to eat: Purple paint

ARIES

Your motivation levels have been up and down more than the Richardson elevators. Daylight hours are the best to crack out some good study for the fuck-ton of shit you have due. Remember, no one finds enlightenment in Central Library at midnight.

Inedible substance to eat: A dusty Peace Lily leaf

GEMINI

Your social life is buzzing, but so are the notifications from your flat’s group chat about who still owes money for power. Try not to let the drama derail you. Balance your time: hit the books and Catacombs on the same day for the true Gemini experience.

Inedible substance to eat: Toenails… but not your own

LEO

You have more confidence than you’ve had in a while. That is, until a declined purchase in front of the cutest cashier you’ve ever seen knocks the wind out your sails. But it's okay, we are all in the same povo boat (if you say you're not, you're lying).

PISCES

You need to log out of TikTok. Your obsession with Moo Deng is worse than a millennial's obsession with Temu homeware. Go back to the classic YouTube brain rot, it might at least repair your max 3-second attention span.

Inedible substance to eat: A candle

TAURUS

You’ll soon find three suspicious pillshaped objects in your pocket. There is a 13% chance they are all Ritalin and an 87% chance that they are all blood pressure medication. Either way, life will become a little less boring for a minimum of six hours.

Inedible substance to eat: The dinner your flatmate made

CANCER

Your anxiety is through the roof, so this is a good week to avoid looking at the comments on your three latest assignment grades – nothing good can come of that. Just look to the future and everything will be better than it has been for the past few weeks.

Inedible substance to eat: Chalk

VIRGO

This week you will have the hardest time ever connecting to the uni WiFi. It's almost not even worth coming to uni because you’ll spend half your time battling with your laptop. Just spend the money and buy a hotspot on your phone plan, and then maybe you will finally submit an

Inedible substance to eat: This Critic assignment on time.

Inedible substance to eat: Small LEGO pieces

LIBRA

Balance is key, but so is your bank account, which currently sits at $6.50. This week, the universe encourages you to do some budgeting (or fall back in love with 2-minute noodles). By the weekend, you’ll be weighing the pros and cons of selling your Sem 1 textbooks for RnV tickets.

Inedible substance to eat: Some hair

SAGITTARIUS

You crave change and adventure but you are broke and have three exams back to back, so the most adventurous you can get is finding a new cafe and hoping they let you hog a table all arvo after buying one coffee. But you will get an aesthetic picture for your Instagram story, so it’s worth it.

Inedible substance to eat: Toast so burnt it is actually just charcoal

That sexy, mysterious classmate’s energy has rubbed off on you and everyone wants to know your backstory. But don’t give them too much information otherwise your street cred will hit the floor faster than a brick off a tall building.

Inedible substance to eat: The innards of a stress ball

You’re so busy this week that the most you can do is make a to-do list and then lay on your bed dreading getting started. By Sunday you will have ticked one thing off (probably laundry) but a win is a win and these days we gotta take what the universe gives.

Inedible substance to eat: Acidic dirt

SCORPIO

CAPRICORN

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