Top codebreakers, linguistic experts and just generally nosy pricks stormed UCC today in an effort to crack a new language developed by a group of first year students. The three friends, all first year Arts students, met on the first day of term, where they instantly bonded. “One of them made some shit joke about weed and they all just laughed and laughed,” one mildly disgusted onlooker remembers. “Ever since then they won’t leave each other alone. It’s quite sad really.”
Witnesses say that it was after this first meeting that they became inseparable, following each other everywhere – even to the bathroom (one of them has trouble aiming). Bystanders have said that, at first, It seemed innocent enough — cute even — but then the nicknames began. Soon after that, the court order was signed, and the nicknames became law. “It was my grandmother’s name!” The bereft mother of Skittle Tits (formerly Sophie), cries through tears.
Gooch Chin (formerly Kevin) and 420 Batman’s (formerly Stephen) families are apparently equally distraught. It is reported that relatives of the threesome have had to endure weeks of obscure and horrifically unfunny references, all so dense and incestuous that they may as well be Lannisters. “I was happy he was making friends,” 420 Batman’s father offered, “He always had trouble with that, because he couldn’t aim so well, you know? But now? I’d give him a smack, but he’d just make some joke about a joke about a dog he and his friends saw four weeks ago. I give up.”
Relatives say that the friends’ vocabulary became a twisted maze of in-jokes so potent that anyone who passed by the group was in danger of being sucked in as the friends slowly disappeared up their own holes. “Sophi-… Skittles… was on track for a one-one, she really was, but now…” Lee Jenkins, Head of the School of English, says sadly as she slides across a Beowulf essay that is comprised entirely of dick jokes and scribbles that look hieroglyphic in nature, and sentences that all begin with “Remember that one time…”
The NSA, CIA and FBI reportedly caught wind of the situation when they were definitely, definitely not monitoring your online activities, they swear. Representatives say the various organisations stumbled upon the friends group chat and instantly flagged the strange messages as some sort of code. “We lost a lot of good agents on this one,” said an Agent ‘Cooper’, “every one of our best analysts could only read the messages for a few minutes without getting so infuriated they just full on quit. They’re really just not funny.” By the time the agencies had been able to get to Cork it was too late: the friends had surpassed the need for words, communicating exclusively with strange noises.
An appeal has gone out to anyone who may understand this gibberish mess of whistles, whoops and hollers. Until an appropriate expert is found, though, all we can do is wait. Wait and hope that they shut the fuck up.