It's not the drinking, it's how we're drinking

Or so runs a fairly stupid anti-bingeing ad campaign from NZ's ALAC gummint fun pleece. Along with sensationalist head-kicking ads full of pointless violence like this which prove unequivocally that if you drink more than four beers in half a day you will end up fatally killing yourself to death or even someone else or possibly even THE ENTIRE WORLD. FACT.

Does 'It's not the drinking, it's how we're drinking' even make any fucking sense to anyone?


Anyway that's obviously a sack of turds floating in a barrel of bollocks. Drinking far too much and making a complete arse of yourself won't necessarily kill you to death. In fact it's among the most culturally significant rites of passage that any grown man, woman or child can attain. As the following dear personal friends of mine will attest.

"The following is a true story. Only the names have been changed... to protect the guilty." (AC/DC, 1976)



Name: JA
Gender: M
Age at incident: 18
Weapon of choice: Cheap nasty student-grade tequila
Incident report: JA spent one evening at college drinking far too much cheap nasty tequila. He went to the bathroom, had a well-earned (or at least badly-needed) slash, and staggered blindly to bed. He was informed next morning that he had in fact done no such thing, that he'd gone through the wrong door, into a room that was not in fact the bathroom, and had urinated on an Asian international student's Masters thesis. While the guy was sitting at the desk JA was urinating on, watching on in horror.
Went on to: Policy department, Major Health Professionals Association

Name: MS
Gender: F
Age at incident: 16
Weapon of choice: Gin, peach schnapps, being a feisty little first-year wench from Somerville House
Incident report: MS prided herself on being able to sneak into the unibar despite the large amounts of security stationed at the perimeters. One night, much to her obvious pride, she managed to pick up an older guy. As it turned out, he was the undercover cop stationed at the unibar for the express purpose of unearthing underage drinkers.
Went on to: PhD programme, Very Prestigious University in the US

Name: MD
Gender: M
Age at incident: 19
Weapon of choice: Tooheys Old
Incident report: Dropping his strides whenever Eagle Rock was played; kicking antsy female lead singer of AJ's covers band in the arse for no apparent reason; giggling maniacally at very poor Murray Walker impressions when off-chops on magic mushrooms of dubious origin
Went on to: Chief research geologist, Large Mining Company

Name: DR
Gender: M
Age at incident: 17
Weapon of choice: Southern Comfort
Incident report: Declaring earnestly that his cigarettes couldn't possibly harm him as he'd specifically chosen the ones that could harm his unborn child
Went on to: Become an actuary and make shitloads of coin

Name: TM
Gender: M
Age at incident: 28
Weapon of choice: About thirteen hours worth of Speights on my 3rd bucks night (of 4)
Incident report: Deciding to rewire the stairwell at our house by falling down the stairs, ripping the live cabling out of a switched-on lamp while plunging in midair, and ending up at the bottom of the stairs with bare 240V wires in his hand and his boxers around his ankles, for no apparent reason whatsoever
Went on to: Own his own highly successful web design company
(and became a dad this week, huzzah!)

Name: CB
Gender: M
Age at incident: Varies
Weapon of choice: Homebrew in plastic bottles
Incident report: Once drunk, will steal anything, anywhere, anytime. Even park benches
Went on to: Industrial chemistry and environmental consultancy

Name: MW
Gender: F
Age at incident: 27
Weapon of choice: Speights, being a good Southern girl and all, but generally whatever was going
Incident report: Snogging Another Mate's generously overendowed girlfriend in full view of the entire UQ uni bar while Your Correspondent and Another Mate looked on in astonishment (and drooling just a bit) until unibar security asked them to stop, the fuckin' fuckers
Went on to: I couldn't possibly comment

Name: DY
Gender: M
Age at incident: 27
Incident report: Returning from the unibar with the requisite stash of 'borrowed' roadworks/hazard warning signs from the inevitable construction site on campus, DY and his companions CB (a different one) and YV (a VERY different one) were accosted by Campus Security in a shiny white van. The latter pair scarpered in opposing directions, leaving DY blinking into the spotlight.
"Can we have a word with you mate?" growled a voice. It wasn't a question, even if it was posed as such.
DY barely broke stride, other than to deviate around the Hiace blocking his route home along the footpath before of him.
"Nah I don't fucken think so champ."
He continued, striding along the footpath into the darkness, immune to the protestations of the hired goons in the van. The footpath, for the record, was on the side of the street that wasn't actually part of campus.
Fucken UQ seccies.
Went on to: Erm...

The Doctor is OUT.