Journalism notes, Napier University, circa 2005

Daniel is wondering why he came to this class.
Morven wishes she was dead.
Check Paula – she’s still in touch with us kids.
Of course she is. I like Paula. Oh, ProPlus. What does the “Pro” mean?
Professional. Professional… plus! Like Superman. Look, I know how to revise. This class is useless!
I don’t… but I just want to get out and REVISE now: it makes me feel bad about the amount of work I’ve done. In fact, I don’t want to go and revise – I want DEATH. Death and a bonny funeral.
You can have that in ~50 years.
But suicide is painless.
> Pest <- This part’s for you, Ruth.
> You’re a fucking nuisance, Fearon. But I love you.
Hmm, maybe. But then you’d go to HELL. And I hear HELL is painful.
I can’t go to Hell: I’m Jewish. Look at the preppy girls in the row in front of Beaver: they dress up and make so much effort! You can tell they’re not journalists.
I can only see the backs of their heads. Many a pony tail.
High ponytails. The clothes, oh the Jane Norman clothes! I don’t know these girls but I hate them. It’s like ‘classy’ Aberdonian slag chic. I bet they’re lovely people, though – pah.
I can only see Hair Gel Kangol Kid, and he vaguely displeases me.
I really dislike the trendy publishing students. I broke a nail. Chewing it is fun.
I still have a huge bump on my forehead. It feels tumour-tastic.
But you’ve always had it, right? If it hasn’t killed you in 20 years, chances are it won’t.

Nah, this is a post-black eye development.
Oh, I thought it was just your denty skull.
Nein. But I am developing more facial irregularities than an angry Predator.
So we should “smear cold mud on ourselves; that is what we like!”
Well, you don’t have to, but I’m seriously considering one of those facial mud-packs.
Don’t get one of the ones that heats up – evil.
What is this talk of self-heating mud? Witch!
*scary music from the omen*
Jessie looks like such a beatnik today.

I’m too sexy for this lecture.
Silence is sexy. Paula should bear that in mind…
I think she’s one of those people who loves the sound of her own voice.
She likes to idealise herself as young, hip, studenty, girlie and chatty… she’s not loud, she’s FUN and down with the kidz!
One of us, one of us, one of us…!
Come and play with us Paula, for ever and ever and ever.
I wish a wave of blood would smack her in the face right now.
Here’s GARY!
All work and no play makes Gary miss his Playstation. All work and no play makes Gary miss his Playstation.
He has one console.

Journalism notes, Napier University, circa 2006

[We had a Chinese lecturer, who was almost impossible to understand.]

You’re to blame for this hell, Christopher.
No I’m not. But I will get us out, in a blaze of glory.
Dare I place my trust in you again? And… hang on, what’s he saying now? What the fuck is ‘piecemeal’?
It’s a small section of a meal, say, the salad. Trust me and you won’t be killed by this guy.
‘Murder control is probably due to our economic insufficiency’? The man’s insane. What do salads even have to do with any of this?!
They have everything to do with this. I’m bored, shall I throw something at Jesse?
I’ll only be disappointed if you don’t.
Uh oh, lot of pressure now. I might wimp out. We leaving at half time?
Do you really have to ask? Look at my face.
I dunno. Well, I’m certainly going, you can stay!
‘Regulate spastics by controlling murders’ – this man is pure evil.
He’s a son-of-a-bitch! Hold me back. He wants racial purity, no defects, he must die.
This lecture is a ‘completely mess’.
My brain just improded.
25 MINUTES! Jesus.
Lol, find something to do. Draw a portrait of me.
I’m going to take your picture. Act natural.
>    Ruth, stop being such a nerd.
>    Aha! Even as you passed me this note I grew nerdier still. Leaving at 5pm?
>    Duh.
>    Meeing Irish Andy somewhere. You guys in?
>    I’m broke.
>    I’ll buy you a fucking round then, alright?
>    You might have to lend me some money for the bus as well… 🙂
>    For fuck’s sake. Ok.
Another 13 minutes and he claims our souls.
I’m saying my prayers. I have 3p if you want?
I have no use for your pennies.
Poo poo.
>    Ok, Ruth, where are you meeting this fellow cult member? This Irish?
>    A pub.
TEST YOUR MIGHT: Dare you leave before the break, Mr Cage?
I’m frightened… he might chase us. Looks kinda Billy Wizz-ish.
The Chinese can teleport, you know. It’s true. I saw it once.
I know, he’ll appear on the bus and murder us media-stylee.
That makes me a saaad student. 😦
Aww, cheer up. Think of happy thoughts.
Like not being here?
Indeed. Not being here + beer + that fella dead.
FATALITY – Liu Kang – Flawless Victory! Let’s get the fuck outta here.


et cetera