Josh Lobster, a Scotch College Old Boy from the lower echelons of the elite private school’s social hierarchy, hadn’t tasted a drop of alcohol until his 18th birthday in the final months of Year 12.
“Well that’s not 100% true,” he laughed. “I had the odd sip or so of my Dad’s beer growin’ up.” He laughed again.
His experience on an O’week camp had been an awakening. Two weeks after finally getting his braces removed, the self-professed Elon Musk superfan told the Salamander he had been “righteously keen” to get partying. He’d never seen that many women in one place before, and the experience had been disorienting. That was when Josh decided to adopt a new, “loose” persona. Upon hearing about prosh, this New Josh dedicated himself to the cause.
“A full week of bangin’ babes and slingin’ schooners,” the virgin proudly boasted, copying verbatim something he’d heard a 3rd year say earlier that day. “Might even go for my bachelor! Of inebriation, that is!”
Prosh, a 5 day festival of autofellatio, is a cringe inducing student-run orgy that prides itself on loudly making itself known to socially active first years on the first two days and then drifting off to thankful obscurity thereafter. Witnesses have described the event as a nauseating display of narcissistic personalities trying their best to “out-loose” everyone else, unwilling or simply unable to recognise the deeply embarrassing social gaffe that they will pretend not to regret in 5 years. Activities include the rapid construction of embarrassing eyesores across the University grounds, a variety of excuses for dangerous binge-drinking and an aptly named abomination of an event called “Iron Gut”. Josh tells us he’s “all about that now”, and can’t wait to sink some Rivets with his new mates.
“Heeeeeeere’s to brother Josh, brother Josh, brother Josh” he sung to himself.