by Christian Coulthard

A law student fresh back from a bush tins sesh with some old mates who chose wiser career paths (read: any career which doesn’t touch a statute with a ten-foot pole) has once again had the unfortunate realisation that he knows absolutely fuckall about how to survive.

After arriving late and trying not to panic as he set up his new $250 swag in front of the peanut gallery of silent judgemental men, he began to realise just how lacking his knowledge of knots, fire-making and shelter-building really is.

“Makes you think doesn’t it.” he said, glumly. “Who’d really need me in an apocalypse sitch hey?”

“I mean a doctor, a carpenter, a scientist… those things just make sense. But lawyers… we’re always first up against the wall and first to go”

“No one needs a conveyancer when you’ve got to build your own house out of sticks and mud.”

When we asked his friends for comment, they had a laugh.

“Nah he’s a good egg, I think his Dad just didn’t take him camping enough” said one of them.

“Although he should probably take a woodworking class sometime. I watched him try to hammer a nail in with the wrong end of the hammer once, which was pretty much a speedrun to giving me the thousand-yard stare you usually find on most war veterans.”

“At least he can cook his dinner now…”