Dear God, They’re Here: The Obiter’s 5-Step Guide on Surviving High Schoolers in the Lawbry

An exploding faucet in the L2 bathroom. Exiting the automatic doors on a different calendar date than when you first walked in. The horror of encountering your opp on the stairs and pretending not to notice. It’s an understatement to say the Walter Harrison Law Library has seen its fair share of trials and tribulations, but strap yourselves in, folks— it’s about to face its greatest annual challenge yet.

Before they hit the sandy shores of Surfers Paradise, Queensland’s latest batch of jersey-wearing, ATAR-scaling seniors are set to descend upon the Lawbry in a matter of weeks. If you, too, are a) afraid, b) annoyed, or c) all of the above, never fear: the Obiter is here, and there is nothing we love more than dispensing unsolicited advice. 

In a vein similar to the incredibly effective 5-year plans of great Communist leaders, here is our 5-step guide on surviving the onslaught of high-schoolers in the Lawbry. 

1. Arrive at an ungodly hour

Have you seen the Lawbry at 7 in the morning? It’s practically a ghost town. Look to your left; an academic kicking aside a tumbleweed as they pull up to work. Look to your right; a singular, tryhard first-year grinding their 30-page Public Law readings. 

From 10 am onwards, finding a seat and staking claim to an entire table is like taking a sneaky pic of a Property Law PowerPoint in tutorials. Before that? Any of the big-money study spots near the Moot Court are still up for grabs. Don’t forget that the kids are on exam block. None of them will be awake before 9. 

2. Assert dominance

If the bus holds you up or the kids are just too eager, then you’ll need a plan to steal that study space. But given that the Obiter doesn’t condone physical violence, we’ve got some tricks for psychological warfare that’ll make them realise this school is not their friend.

Use your big legal brain to scare them into submission. So what if they’re grinding for a high ATAR? Well, guess who already needed one to get in (don’t ask about my adjustment points).

Tell them that if they haven’t done the Junior Moot yet, their legal career is over before it even started. (If it works on first-years, just imagine how impressionable the high-schoolers are.) Casually drop your largest textbook on the desk; watch them scurry away at the thud of a CLR meeting the table. These kids are more out of place than a snail in a bottle of ginger beer, and you must do whatever it takes to TC Burn the fear of God into them.

3. Get ready to do some shushing

If you don’t succeed in scaring them away, then at least try and make them play by the rules. Some say library etiquette is a dying art, but there’s no better time than externals season to bring it back in fashion.

No eating your smelly sauerkraut in the level four computer lab. If you dare take your shoes off, it’ll be more than just the Ba-Ha Men asking who let those dogs out. And for God’s sake, keep it down. 

Does it matter that no uni student follows such protocol, or that you, too, once made the fatal mistake of cracking open a can of John West during a negligence-induced menty B? Nope. As a resident victim of TC Beirne, we’d argue that it’s unconstitutional to deny you the chance to let loose now and then. These intruders, however, don’t carry the L-Card of lawbry liberty, so they can’t be given the same freedoms.

But when these rule-breaking kids don’t listen, you’ll have to progress to the next step.

4. Avoid avoid AVOID 

Avoid what, you may ask? Avoid eye contact, that awkward hello with the kid who used to be on your netball team, everything. Treat the next couple of weeks as if you’re living through A Quiet Place IRL, only that the triggers are “scaling” and whispered rumours of a vacant table on level 4. 

Our top tip is to try and find the places the high-schoolers don’t know. That weird row of desks behind the staircase on level 3. Steal a mooter’s ID card and break into the advocacy rooms. Hell, hack into the lift and go to the roof. There’s always somewhere more hidden and secret. Just don’t think about how they invariably trade seclusion for lack of comfort. And just remember: if you make yourself practically invisible, they won’t be able to find you. 

If you have tried all of the above and nothing seems to work… It’s time to activate the final protocol. 

5. Blend in

As the old saying goes, if you can’t beat them, join them. 

Dig out your crumbling senior jersey. Pull up with your emotional support water bottle, a copy of any Shakespearean play, and have the ATAR calculator locked and loaded on your laptop. 

Because maybe, just maybe, they’ll let you into the fray without overt hostility. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll get through a legal advice question despite the constant background chatter about Complex Unfamiliar questions from Methods Paper 1. 

Godspeed, fellow Lawbrians. May this externals season go easy on us all. 

Duolingo Bird Murders User After Leaving Lessons to 11pm for 25th Consecutive Day

Johnny is dead. The ‘official’ cause of death is ‘suicide’ by stabbing himself with a knife 28 times. Everyone really knows, however, that this is a cover up story, and Johnny did not kill himself. In reality, the elites were covering up the crimes of one of their own – the self-proclaimed master of languages, Duo.

Johnny had begun using the infamous app Duolingo during the mid-year break after his family nagged him to join and his excuse of being ‘busy’ now failed. His initial scepticism had quickly turned into enthusiasm over the first two weeks. He was nailing the beginner Korean lessons with ease, he was collecting XP and gems at a rate that rivals the wealth of Jeff Bezos, and his streak was skyrocketing. This was much better than any prestigious ‘formal’ lessons of language learning encouraged by the elites. Surely this would last, and Johnny would become effectively a natural speaker of Korean.

It did not last. The seemingly cute and bubbly bird Duo and all the other characters drawn in a late 2010s corporate art style that only looks good compared to the AI slop prominent now were becoming increasingly grating to Johnny. Especially their non-stop promotion of ‘Super Duolingo’ because everything has to be fucking subscription based these days. Basically, nothing since the first few lessons had been retained, putting a slight bit of doubt that random apps are the best way to learn difficult new skills. The lessons were a grind, with the progress bar deliberately misleading him, suggesting more of the lesson is complete than reality. To make matters even worse, his family who had begged him to join the app in the first place had all given up, leaving hard-earned friend streaks to crumble like the Roman Empire.

The only things at this stage keeping Johnny from folding like Ed Sheeran and giving up on Duolingo was the sunk cost fallacy and the fear of what the Duo bird would do to him. The big fancy number on his streak was taunting him. One missed day and all the progress would vanish. Johnny simply could not let that happen despite his wishes. The Duo bird watching over him had grown more antagonistic as Johnny left his lessons later and later with each passing week and the quantity of lessons dwindled to the bare minimum.

Finally, after 25 days of leaving lessons until 11pm, Duo’s rage expanded beyond an angry stare from the phone. Duo emerged from the phone with a knife, and left Johnny with 28 stab wounds to ensure his final lesson from Duolingo would not be forgotten (unlike everything else for the past two months). Duo then slipped back into the app like nothing had ever happened, with a misleadingly optimistic demeanour that would continue to lure many more into the greatest trap of their lives.

추가 소식 예정.

Screw $8 Cold Foam Lattes: Millennial Stomp-Clap Hits Save Many From Week 8 Menty B

As the end of semester looms, it’s time to confront every lecture you’ve put off watching, start studying for that 50% final, and commit to locking the fuck in. 

It’s a thought that can send even the most stoic student into a spiral; a spiral that used to be solved with an iced latte, a croissant, or a large passionfruit iced tea with extra boba. But as this unending cost-of-living crisis rages on, students have started turning to their Spotify libraries for solutions. Ukulele-filled, whoop-heavy, BuzzFeed-reminiscent solutions. 

That’s right: the playlist of a burger joint serving mediocre, $20 truffle fries has been resurrected as the Internet’s latest coping mechanism. Though the resurgence of Safe and Sound by Capital Cities might be a recession indicator, students all over campus have been delighted to rediscover melodies that could’ve only been written by young adults in 2012. 

“Songs like Fireflies have really booted me out of my mid-sem slump,” gushed second-year student Delilah Heigh, sporting a plain white tee and a pair of moustache socks. “When he sings about lightning bugs teaching him how to dance, I realise that it’s OK to be two weeks behind in Torts. If Owl City could write nonsense and get a billion streams, then I can do anything.” 

Caught heel-clicking in the Bagel Boys line, third-year Edward Blunt (sans Magnetic Zeroes) told us that he’s listened to “Ho Hey” seventy-six times in the past two days. “Adulting is hard, but you just gotta do what you can, man,” he insisted, after saying “peace and love” to the confused cashier. “When the going gets tough, the Trusts gets going. Keep calm and carry on chugging your Monsters.” 

With the semester only ramping up from here, the dog days are certainly not over. No matter how many times these students beg to go “home, let me go home” the minute they set foot on campus, they simply can’t afford to miss another tutorial. But there is a hope that’s waiting for them in the dark: tonight (and every other night until they find themselves working overtime in a corporate firm), they are young. 

Setting the Lawbry on fire until it is brighter than the sun to come. 

Student With Two Assignments Due Tomorrow Decides to Play Wordle for First Time Since 2022

Third year law student Connie Ections has shared an insightful take away from her experiences cramming the Property Law assignment this week. 

Although her group is admittedly just now starting the assignment they very likely should have started weeks ago, Connie has turned her mind to more important matters.

She simply couldn’t resist the soft whispers of today’s Wordle, New York Times’ famous word-game.

“I mean, yeah, I do have an assignment to work on, but … I don’t know, the Wordle is just so enticing … please don’t tell my assignment… I’m ashamed enough already.”

Connie’s team members, Mini Word-Cross and Bea Spelling have expressed concerns over Connie’s secret Wordle affair.

Mini claims that Connie has started awkwardly hiding her laptop screen during their study sessions.

“I can see her typing and she looks like she is thinking critically but I don’t see the Anonymous Quokka writing on the Google Doc… plus I don’t think there’s anything THAT exciting about Retail Leases.”

While her team is in a pinch, Connie is trying the word “PINCH” as her third guess. 

Three grey, two yellow: “I guess I haven’t played any NYT Games since last exam block, maybe I’ve lost my mojo,” admits Connie.

Needless to say, it is not looking promising for Connie’s Wordle nor her sentiment review.

(Two guesses) more to come.

Opinion: Only thing worse than not getting clerkship interview is getting clerkship interview

For fourth year law student Laura Port, every application brought forth a sense of impending doom no matter the outcome.

A rejection meant she had to come to terms with failure, that all her hours spent on cover letters and psychometric pseudoscience were for nothing.

But an acceptance, that was something else indeed.

Further interview prep, a cocktail evening that you can’t enjoy because it’s secretly another interview in disguise, the risk of seeing the HR rep randomly on the street sometime in the next 18 months and realising that your whole life is henceforth just a long interview where you will never not be judged.

The reward if it all succeeded: a month-long stress intensive with an ever-decreasing chance of retention, all for a grad offer with no guarantee of long-term retention, all for the opportunity to defend consulting firms that blacklist whistleblowers.

It wasn’t exactly the noble human-rights-affirming social-justice-seeking lifestyle Laura envisaged when she filled in QTAC four years ago.

(Un)fortunately, due to her impressive co-curricular resume writing for the Obiter, a 6.7 GPA, and a healthy dose of nominative determinism, Laura Port had accidentally landed no fewer than eleven interviews, all of which had to be scheduled within a week.

Maybe there’s still time to drop the law half of her degree and graduate with straight arts. An Ancient Greek major is definitely just as employable as law, right?

(Seven interviews) more to come

Local Law Student Uses IRAC to Decide Whether to Break Up With Her Boyfriend

Fourteen months old, the world’s greatest, most romantic and closest relationship ever (according to Bethany) has encountered unexpected difficulties as of late. The movie nights just aren’t hitting the same, the communication is breaking down as much as the world’s climate, and David is constantly ‘busy at work’ nowadays on Friday nights. Sooner or later Bethany would need to make a decision. A decision so complicated that she would have to use a problem-solving method used for the toughest legal disputes.

Issue, rule, application, conclusion. Creating the beloved acronym IRAC. The structure Bethany so dearly loves using. And judging by her marks last semester, a structure Bethany needs more practice using. It was perfect for this ‘legal’ problem.

‘The issue is whether the current status of my relationship with David satisfies the conditions needed for a breakup’, wrote Bethany, happy with the verbose sentence to pick up on any additional marks.

‘The rule is that the issue in the relationship must not be able to be resolved with working things out, as established by Indigo v Harry. If the issue or multiple issues – such as the passion in a relationship being unable to be reignited or the partner being as loyal as a certain “high-profile Queensland man” – are unable to be resolved, then not ending the relationship soon suggests you are a coward (Jessica v Dylan).’ That was one of Bethany’s best paragraphs in law school yet.

For the application section, she wrote ‘Unlike in Indigo v Harry, where Harry was willing to work through any relationship issues with Indigo, David is as unwilling to negotiate for any compromise as a certain US president. As the chemistry with David has officially reached the level of a D-tier 1970s romcom, Jessica v Dylan suggests that the time to end the relationship is now’.

Now for the conclusion to a rigorous problem. ‘It is thus likely that the relationship will be considered to be in the “we need to talk” stage’.

The work was done. The topic of ending ‘the world’s greatest, most romantic and closest relationship ever’ was somehow less emotionally damaging than the average law school exam.

No more to come.

2025 Brainrot on Latest List of Phrases Banned by Crisafulli Government

Following his implementation of “strong, decisive” measures against hate speech, David Crisafulli has taken it upon himself to piss off even more of Queensland’s youth, announcing a blanket ban on the phrases “Tung Tung Tung Sahur” and “67”. 

Citing concerns to do with Tung Tung Tung Sahur’s “divisive, Muslim roots” as well as the “ability of ‘67’ to foster intergenerational, global connections,” Crisafulli announced at a press conference this morning that the public display of these phrases— staples of Gen Alpha culture— would be criminalised by the beginning of next year. 

“It’s just too dangerous,” said Crisafulli. “Next thing you know, Queenslanders might actually realise that the cultural lexicon we access on a day-to-day basis is founded in our shared humanity and mutual understanding. This is a major threat to our community, and there is nothing more important to me than keeping Queenslanders safe.” He then dismissed any further questions from gathered journalists and proceeded to spend an hour explaining why powering AI data centres with natural gas would make Queensland great again. 

To get a true reflection of what Gen Alpha Queenslanders had to say about the ban, The Obiter conducted several vox pops in the play area located on Level 2 of Westfield Mount Gravatt.  

“67 is actually really dead,” said Sally Knowles, aged 9. “No one does it anymore because all the teachers got to it.” After a moment’s reflection, she added, “But I will miss Tung Tung Tung Sahur. Can they really just ban us from saying his name?”

Upon learning that the gesture of 67 would remain unscathed, Connor Thorne, aged 8, proclaimed that he would “continue to do what he was already doing.” “I don’t like listening to my dad when he tells me what to do,” he said. “So I don’t care if this guy says I can’t say it. I’m going to say it anyway. 67 67 67 67 67.” 

Whether Crisafulli intends to punish these young offenders under his Adult Crime, Adult Time policy remains unknown. If he follows through, every brainrotted Gen Alpha— or the occasional millennial lurker on r/fellowkids— may be subject to a maximum penalty of six months’ imprisonment. 

The Obiter will continue to investigate. 

Law Library Seats Found in Breach of Duty of Care, Students Allege

In a decision that has sent shockwaves through the reading room, students studying in the law library have alleged that the seating has fallen well below the standard of a reasonable chair, in flagrant breach of its basic duty of care.

"The foreseeability of harm was obvious," said second-year student and repeat sufferer Mia Backhurst, gesturing at a chair she described as "more of a torture apparatus than a place to sit." "I've basically run the Bolam test in my head. No reasonable seat manufacturer would do this to a person."

The alleged breach centres on a design so uncomfortable that several students report losing feeling in their lower body somewhere between the second and third hour of a single sitting, a phenomenon one student has taken to calling "constructive numbness."

"I was reading a case about causation and honestly I couldn't tell if the pain radiating down my leg was sciatica or just, like, vibes," said fourth-year student Tom Ashcroft. "Either way, I think I've suffered actionable damage."

Library staff have denied any wrongdoing, maintaining that the seats meet the relevant standard of care "for a chair, not a spa."

"We assessed the risk and considered it reasonable in the circumstances," said Head Librarian Deborah Finch, who was reportedly unable to make eye contact while standing near the offending furniture. "Also, have you seen our budget?"

Some students have gone further, arguing the library owed them a non-delegable duty given the "special relationship" created by mandatory attendance during exam period, and are said to be exploring remedies including specific performance, in the form of a cushion.

At time of publication, the library had not confirmed whether it intended to defend the claim, settle out of court, or simply replace the seats before Obiter finds out who upholstered them.

Judgment reserved.

BREAKING: The Obiter returns after Law Revue hiatus

After 8 months of hardcore preparation, the highly anticipated annual Law Revue finished on a high.

“Oh man, you totally have to watch it,” Kaw Ktudent (19) had told her two friends– one a sports physio major, the other studying compsci and maths.

“Are you aware we don't know shit about law? Do you seriously have zero friends? What do you even do?” they asked.

Kaw personally took offence to this. It took a lot of grip strength to show up for 1 night and  lift chairs backstage.

Luckily, they enjoyed everything regardless. In fact, they reported seeing her moving a couple tables, claiming that she “totally stole the show”.

After the final night, however, they had a burning question.

“Kaw, it's so amazing how you're getting involved in your first year. What happened to that article thing you were plugging us to like on Facebook, though?”

“Awh yeah, it's totally been active. We're just holding back right now.” Kaw replied.

She did not have the guts to tell them that the last Facebook messenger chat was 16 weeks ago.

Whoops.

Regardless, Kaw reassured them that the articles would be “at some point,” and told them to keep an eye out for their Facebook FYPs.

“You guys don’t get it. Facebook is the new Instagram, I swear.”

Students Seen Crying in the Law Library After Missing First Law Ball Ticketing Round

6:58

A nervous atmosphere fills the room.

Baw Btudent (18) is a first year starting at UQ law, confident that she’ll snatch tickets for the law ball. 

“It’s probably going to be fine,” she claimed, 

“I’ve ticketed for BTS before.”

She shudders at the memory of it. Her fingers aching from typing so aggressively, the 67 tabs open, the angry swearing at classmates to “shut the fuck up or I won’t get to see Jimin IRL.”

Did she mention that this was in the middle of her year 12 chemistry class? Maybe that’s why she flunked her external.

She briefly calculates the demand-ratio between that concert and the law ball. Probably around 75,000-200 respectively. Unluckily for Baw, she’s a law student and can’t do basic maths.

6:59.

‘It’s going to be okay,’ she tells herself. She could manage to secure BTS tickets in two minutes. Surely no one in law is that desperate to go to a ball. Surely, they’re all doing their weekly 500 pages of cases (that she gave up doing after the first week of the semester).

Surely, the tickets will take at least ten minutes to sell out. She assumes that that’s what the fourth year meant at market day when she told her “Tickets usually sell out in minutes” with a dire tone.

7:00. Its time.

Her eyes focus on all 69 tabs like a pro. Her fingers move faster than the speed of light. No one can beat her. She’s a ticketing pr---

7:00:15.

Silence.

A shudder trickles down her spine.

The words “fully reserved” stare back at her.

“There’s no way.” She mumbles to herself.

“There’s no way that I, Baw Btudent, failed at ticketing.”

She crumbles to the ground, distraught. She now not only has to pay an extra 10 bucks (given that she even gets tickets at all), but also can’t brag to all her peers that stanning BTS has given her many valuable life skills.

The worst part is, she can’t even go on a totally-legal website and negotiate until the ticket is 10 dollars. Or maybe she can.

$10 more to come tomorrow