G’day, Bruce!
Oh, Hel­lo Bruce!
How are you Bruce?
A bit crooked, Bruce.
Where’s Bruce?
He’s not ’ere, Bruce.
Blimey, it’s hot in here, Bruce.
Hot enough to boil a mon­key’s bum!
That’s a strange ex­pres­sion, Bruce.
Well Bruce, I heard the Prime Min­is­ter use it. “It’s hot enough to boil a mon­key’s bum in here, your Majesty,” he said and she smiled qui­et­ly to her­self.
She’s a good Sheila Bruce, and not at all stuck up.
Here! Here’s the boss‐​fel­low now!
’Ow are you, Bruce?
G’day Bruce!
Bruce.
Hel­lo Bruce.
Bruce.
How are you, Bruce?
G’day Bruce.
Gen­tle­man, I’d like to in­tro­duce man from Pom­mey­land who is joinin’ us this year in the phi­los­o­phy de­part­ment at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Wala­maloo.
[Every­one] G’day!
Hel­lo.
Michael Bald­win, Bruce. Michael Bald­win, Bruce. Michael Bald­win, Bruce.
Is your name not Bruce?
No, it’s Michael.
That’s go­ing to cause a lit­tle con­fu­sion.
Mind if we call you “Bruce” to keep it clear?
Gen­tle­men, I think we bet­ter start the fac­ul­ty meet­ing. Be­fore we start, though, I’d like to ask the padre for a prayer.
Oh Lord, we be­seech Thee, Amen!!
Amen!
Crack two! [Bot­tles open­ing]
Now I call up­on Bruce to of­fi­cial­ly wel­come Mr. Bald­win to the phi­los­o­phy fac­ul­ty.
I’d like to wel­come the pom­mey bas­tard to God’s own Earth, and re­mind him that we don’t like stuck‐​up sticky‐​bates here.
[Every­one] Hear, hear! Well spo­ken, Bruce!
Bruce here teach­es clas­si­cal phi­los­o­phy, Bruce there teach­es Haegelian phi­los­o­phy, and Bruce here teach­es log­i­cal pos­i­tivism. And is al­so in charge of the sheep dip.
What’s New‐​Bruce go­ing to teach?
New‐​Bruce will be teach­ing po­lit­i­cal sci­ence, Machi­avel­li, Ben­ton, Lock­holm, Sack­ly, Mill­bo, Has­set, and Bern­erd.
Those are all crick­eters!
Aww, spit!
Hails of de­ri­sive laugh­ter, Bruce!
[Every­one] Aus­tralia, Aus­tralia, Aus­tralia, Aus­tralia, we love you amen!
An­oth­er two! [Bot­tles open­ing]
Any ques­tions?
New‐​Bruce, are you a Poofter?
Are you a Poofter?
No!
No. Right, I just want to re­mind you of the fac­ul­ty rules:

Rule One! [Every­one] No Poofters!
Rule Two, no mem­ber of the fac­ul­ty is to mal­treat the Ab­bos in any way at all⁠—​if there’s any­body watch­ing.
Rule Three? [Every­one] No Poofters!!
Rule Four, now this term, I don’t want to catch any­body not drink­ing.
Rule Five, [Every­one] No Poofters!
Rule Six, there is no . . . Rule Six.
Rule Sev­en, [Every­one] No Poofters!!

Right, that con­cludes the readin’ of the rules, Bruce.
This here’s the wat­tle, the em­blem of our land. You can stick it in a bot­tle, you can hold it in your hand.
Amen!

[And now all four Bruces launch in­to the Philoso­pher’s song]

Im­manuel Kant was a re­al piss‐​ant who was very rarely sta­ble.
Hei­deg­gar, Hei­deg­gar was a boozy beg­gar who could think you un­der the ta­ble.

David Hume could out‐​con­sume Schop­pen­hauer and Hegel.
And Whittgen­stein was a beery swine who was just as sloshed as Schlegel.

There’s noth­ing Nieizsche couldn’t teach ’ya ’bout the rais­ing of the wrist. Socrates, him­self, was per­ma­nent­ly pissed.

John Stew­art Mill, of his own free will, af­ter half a pint of shan­ty was par­tic­u­lar­ly ill.
Pla­to, they say, could stick it away, ’alf a crate of whiskey every day!
Aris­to­tle, Aris­to­tle was a bug­ger for the bot­tle, And Hobbes was fond of his Dram.
And Rene Descartes was a drunk­en fart: “I drink, there­fore I am.”

Yes, Socrates him­self is par­tic­u­lar­ly missed;
A love­ly lit­tle thinker, but a bug­ger when he’s pissed.