Infamy in Suburban Sylvania (U.C.G. Annual 2002)

Infamy in Suburban Sylvania

Franklin D. Roosevelt spoke about the 7th of December being a day that would go down in infamy. In the context of the 155th session of the Lit 'n' Deb, our day of infamy must surely be the 7th of February 2002. That date was the culmination of many months of work and produced the memorable night that was the Former Auditors' debate. The debate itself was not that of infamy, but rather the post-reception and more accurately the extended post-reception.

At approximately 3am the reception party in the Forster Court was drawing to a close and the notion of returning to our treasurer's house (still wearing his nominal identify tag) in suburban Sylvania was debated put to the members present and indeed carried. Three taxis later and all were accounted for in Sylvania. The mood was quite and dignified until the third taxi arrived carrying within it the remains of Sh-r-n D. L--ns, Jen--fer Al--n and D-n-el Du-fy. Inside the kitchen we were all warned and cautioned that the lovely girls upstairs must not be awoken. At the time this seemed a plausible and reasonable request but with the arrival of the third taxi all quietness and decorum went out the window (just like some of the icecream). A fully-fledged foodfight consisting of the aforementioned icecream (who paid for M-rk Han-i-fy 's dry-cleaning bill?) and some m'n'ms ensued before En-a D-l-n finally regained control and threw us all out into the back yard (literally throwing St--hen N-l-n out the hack door, no honest he did, why don’t you believe me??).

Outside the situation did not improve and after a brief game of rugby using El-n- D-b-yn's scarf ending with the inevitable conclusion of P-t-r O'Br-en using El-n- herself as the rugby ball and flinging her into the hedge. P-t-r himself did not come off too lightly either with a crotch ripping poll (clothesline) dance. En-a however was having none of it, but the straw that broke the Offaly back was seeing J-n-if-r riding high on a bicycle around the garden. Ushered out to the front garden a game of limbo dancing was begun, but it was D-n-el showing his innate abilities as a Kylie Minogue backing dancer that stole the show. At this point in time, En-a carne round the corner with his two pillows ready to defend his pillow fighting title so bravely won on the night of the committee dinner…

Then all stopped, the lock on the front door was unlatched, the door creaked open and the front porch was showered with light from within. A shadow emerged; was it a plane (can we use that phrase after Sept.11th??), was it a bird. oh nooooooooo... it couldn't be...

The lovely girls had been surprisingly awakened, and M-ry R-s- McN-l-y was to be heard issuing a stern and deafening chastisement which can only truly be described using a very long expletive beep; "beeeeeeee... eeeeeeeeep".

In no uncertain terms we were all asked to vacate the premises. Some however were not pleased, and systematic looting commenced. P-t-r emerged with a chair, a saucepan (not yet returned), and took a wooden spoon off St-p-en. Others helped in the pillaging but none more so than the indelible M-rk H-n-if-y who could be heard supervising the raiding and ordering Sh-r-n to "Get the microwave".

A scene of destruction, grassless lawns, El-ine imprinted hedges and a furnitureless kitchen was left: behind. All looters escaped unharmed and regrouped at D-n-el and J-nifer's house to survey their ill-gotten goods. At seven in the morning the group split up and throughout the Friday some were caught and faced the music (they haven’t been the same since) while others decided to hide and run away home.