Monash Law School Searching for New Dean After Pip Ices Professor Horrigan.“Talk shit, get hit,” says the Dean of MLS.

Issue 10, Volume 18

WINSTON BAKER

In a blow to those who knew him, and to the Monash Faculty of Law, erstwhile Dean Professor Horrigan was killed yesterday in a bare-knuckled altercation with MLS Dean Pip Nicholson.

Horrigan’s death is the latest blow struck in the violent, and sometimes deadly, feud between Victoria’s largest faculties of law. This comes just one month after police arrested UniMelb professor Jeremy Gans, confiscating materials the MLS teacher had been using to induce despair and psychosis in Monash law students. (See more: Gans’ sadistic ‘Uniform Evidence’ plot).

According to Sergeant Porker of Victoria Police, yesterday’s altercation began outside Attik Nightclub on Chapel Street at around 3am, when a drunken Horrigan approached Pip for a ciggie.

“Hey, you’re Pip!” Horrigan was witnessed saying, before unadvisedly offering, “Monash is #1. Coffee doesn’t cost $5 a pop in Clayton. You cashed-up pricks…”. Horrigan might have continued, but at that moment, Pip’s fist closed around his windpipe, before she struck the fatal blow with her off hand.

After a short battle [with Pip’s fists], Bryan passed away on Thursday night,” the coroner said in a statement. “It looked like he’d been punched by a Kangaroo on ketamine. I haven’t seen injuries this disturbing since Michael Kirby hospitalised that TERF.”

“Yeah Pip has a bit of a crazy streak,” Professor Banna Phapman* told De Minimis. “I once saw her curb stomp a dealer who sold her a baggie of bicarb soda.” 

We approached Pip at her local St Kilda tattoo parlour, where she was getting some fresh ink to commemorate the event – a fourth tear trop tattoo under her left eye.

“That scrawny pipsqueak thought he could hide behind the [police], and that no one would dare touch him,” Pip spat in disgust. “Well, talk shit, get hit.”

After the tatt was done, the contents of Pip’s pockets spilled free, as she swigged Jack Daniels directly from the bottle. It was 2pm. They included a screwdriver, a pair of brass knuckles, $800 cash, and a driver’s licence with someone else’s name on it.

“I hate three things: pigs, squealers, and Monash University,” the well-respected jurist reflected, bottle in hand.

When I asked her about the innovative spikes welded onto her brass knuckles, Professor Nicholson took exception to my line of questioning. 

“I ain’t here to sing for you.” She rose to her full height, and cracked her neck menacingly. “Now, why don’t you make like a tree, and fuck off?”

I hurriedly took her up on her suggestion.

Winston Baker is a news reporter for De Minimis.

*This name has been modified to protect the source’s identity.