What ho, bitches,
Do not dilly-dally - ‘tis I, the venerable Talley! Returning once more to slip a tongue of sense into your lughole. So much has happened on this hellish campus since last we met and if I was one to desert a cause once it had abandoned itself, I would for sure have left the haunting of the clueless Union larks to another faded soul. Talley, however, is a creature entertained by torture, and one must travel no further than the fools’ corridor to watch the endless loop of self-isolating finger-pointing. As sabbatical officers mesh their unwieldy egos together, morally and emotionally destitute, many would grimace to see the hapless fuzzheads attempt any form of social interaction involving empathy or, god forbid - love. These days, little love is lost between the Sabbaticals, who seem to be perpetuating a peculiarly competitive, destructive and vainglorious round of verbal bumper cars.
The lines of conflict are so blurred for Monaghan in particular that he can no longer tell whether he’s recording brawls on O’Connell Street or a war of words between Murphy and Plunkett. Ever the indiscriminate promoter, you can bank on him to put corridor quarrels up on the Union’s snapchat. Talley doubts anybody watches those stories - there are only so many times one can watch him skull pints at an otherwise deathly quiet Classical Society event. Readers can expect an updated website when the Union learn some sense. Don’t hold your breath. Monaghan does not seem to take constructive criticism well (made all the more unfortunate as Murphy blames him for everything), and attention to his shortcomings only results in blistering paper-cuts on his rear-end, having (rightfully) grabbed every copy of The College Tribune available.
Having taken the executive decision to block out all the women in his life, Murphy showed up to the office empty-handed on St Valentines Day. This is preferable to any other given day, when he appears, raw and chafed member in hand, to pin the woes of an ill-run Union on whoever is farthest out of earshot. Not unaccustomed to throwing his peers under the wagon, Talley has heard tell, rather belatedly, that, last year, Murphy threw a spanner in the works of one Rosaleen Aljohmani only weeks before her run at the Union’s presidency. Aljohmani, whose work with the Union is seemingly far from over, must have been left red in the face having received Murphy’s assurances that he had spoken cordially of her in an interview with a local rag, The University Observer. Unfortunately for her, Murphy’s two-facedness is a continuously controlled act and not an innocent misstep.
Sensing a mid-semester slump in the enthusiasm of his deluded zealots, Murphy has seemingly decided to embark on a quest to gain any sort of leadership quality. Questions abound as to why this sorely-needed inculcation comes so late in his two-year term. Credited with neither sense nor morality, Murphy’s protracted stint as a deceiving puppet of the University almost has him forgetting that he holds any position of power whatsoever. Talley wonders whether he still cleans the office floors to keep himself grounded?
The Union is no stranger to loveless relationships but has oft attempted to move on after its shallow romances inevitably fail. Tis’ apparent that is no more, as our spot-nosed Union, perpetually in the tailspin of a midlife crisis, has sought to rekindle its old flame with USI.
Those with half a brain will dismay at Murphy and Crosby’s hour of SU-USI footsie in the President’s office. UCDSU’s disgusting ‘come hithering’ is akin to flirting with an incontinent war veteran, critically wounded after a decade of tying their own shoelaces together. The flaccid USI have little to offer the Union other than enthusiastic self-congratulating and an otherwise passionless commitment to do something, presumably, at sometime that might benefit students. In any case, if they ever do anything of worth, Crosby is sure to be the first to copy it. As TCDSU and DCU become begrudging partners in a worthless relationship, Talley can hardly blame USI for putting its junk on show to former lovers.
Nevertheless, do not despair, children of Belfield; love may be dead, strangled at the grimy hands of our sabbatical officers, but Talley will always care for you wretched weens.
Your moderate and defined specimen,