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Breather Briefing – Issue 2

Noise control. Greensboro and Hogan street. What gives? Recent events have left us frustrated with trying to manage the sesh because people can’t handle a bit of noise just have to call up noise control and whinge until the speakers get taken away. It’s interesting that the cops sometimes show up and don’t mind the parties as long as no one is fighting, breaking glass, burning couches etc. You can’t live in the student quarter anywhere in this country and not expect to hear noise on weekends, just move somewhere else. Just let us have a bit of fun, please?



For a drink that is marketed to be your more successful younger sibling, it really tastes like the mineral turpentine that you’ve resorted to huffing at 4 am on a Tuesday. No breather is too tough for a bottle of good ol’ red, it has a nasty habit of sneaking up on you and knocking you out in the late first half of the night. When I say it’s crook, it’s Tony Veitch’s behaviour against women crook. You’ll typically find it on the bottom shelf of any piss shop wine rack, and you’re a deadset fuckwit if you’re paying anything over $10 a bottle which is a cost-efficient way of getting absolutely rocked.



Ahhh. The classic diesel dash. This is simple, yet it will fuck you right up. What is required? A slab of diesel, and functioning legs. This event usually takes place on a large field where you can run back and forth. A football field is good, 100 meters is absolutely punisher to run when you’ve been smashing back bourbons. What you must do is place 3 cans at each end of the field and gather at one end. You must drink the diesel where you start and cannot run to the other end until you finish it, you must drink the drink at the other end, and run back. Repeat the process until all cans are finished. If any liquid is found to be in the cans, whoever is responsible for such a sham must drink actual diesel. 



This takes me back, way back. One cold night in Rotorua a couple years ago when the boys were back from uni and had reunited for a young sesh, a couple of us got a bit too weird. We’d hit lava bar after a lengthy pres and since we’d been working for a month or so we decided we could afford to buy drinks. This was usually a good idea but we decided to drop around $50 each on jager bombs. You could say we were a couple of new houses because the electrician had just been round and we were fucking WIRED. On jager bombs. Yes. The whole night was a blur, but I do remember leaving the bar, jumping some fences in the CBD and finding some road cones. We were playing with these road cones for a bit, trying to flip them when a cop car pulls up. Bloke in blue steps out and gives us a warning for being tools. We left the scene and walked towards the city centre where the Christmas tree is on display, the bro climbs it and steals the lights. We walked off with them and got halfway to Macca’s before being pulled up by the cops who ask “were you the boys who stole the Christmas lights” me, holding them in my hands says yep, with those same hands ending up in handcuffs roughly 30 seconds later. Long story short, we were thrown into the back of a cop car and ended up in the cells for a couple of hours before being let off with a warning after we sobered up.