Ken Henry V. Warns of a banking Tsunami much worse than BREXIT and the evils of ‘BANK HATE”!

There’s word around that the banks are thinking of going offshore. Described as a “Banking Tsunami”, the four major’s have declared ‘enough is enough’. They wont stand for a bullying government policy, and wont pay a cent more’. On hand to rescue the banks, Ken Henry, (now referred to as brave Ken Henry V) warned; “Australia will be lucky to enjoy one budget surplus over the current cycle, risking the need for dramatic austerity or tax rises in future”. And though we were not on hand to hear his full address to the BBSG, (the Beleagured Bank Support Group) who included amongst its members some of the most concerned members within Australia’s corporate community), he was heard to say;

“And that’s just the start! Once we pull the plug and go offshore you’ll all be completely fucked and you bought it on yourself by your evil high taxing policy of public BANK HATE’!

Ordinary mum and dad mortgage holders rally against populist “BANK HATE” stereotypes.

Asked where he’d go offshore, Ken Henry V retorted: ‘It’ll be like Brexit but ten trillion times worse, and speaking of trillions, that uninhabited island in the Pacific looks good. It’s got a trillion billion pieces of plastic, we can use that resource and convert it into bit-coin. From there we’ll up interest rates on mums and dad mortgage holders, and reduce rates on lending for overseas and any other investor. You’ll be completely fucked over, and well be up to our armpits in bitcoin plastic and laughing ourselves all the way to the Bank. Which incidentally in case you hadn’t forgotten WE OWN’!!

New Advertising campaign launched to demonstrate how Aussie banks nurture community prosperity.

And Ken Henry V (whilst convulsing with villainous laughter composed himself just long enough to take a few more delicate sips of absynthe composed himself to complete the last villainous fragment of his soliloquy). “ Yep, Mums and Dads. We’ve fucked em over on wage growth, fucked em over on housing affordability, and with the overseas investment tsunami we’ll create to punish their ungratefulness and BANK HATE, they’ll be lucky to buy a dog kennel in the Pilbara. And, (convulsing with laughter) Twiggy and Gina will be there to put a flat tax on their dog bowl. And when they come begging, (at this stage Ken Henry V was catatonic with laughter, whilst composing himself just long enough to roll a big fat joint from a real one hundred dollar bill) we’ll encourage em to come along for a bit of financial advice, and when they arrive, we’ll put the sign up on the door.

Another poorly paid salary worker fighting to defend banks against ‘BANK HATE’!

CLOSED’!

Ken Henry V wants a parliamentary enquiry into banking, and promised that the new levy will close business down. Even businesses that pay tax. ‘The 0.6% levy was the final straw, and though aussie banks guaranteed by the Australian taxpayer had a virtual monopoly, the BANK HATE meant only one thing. RETRIBUTION’.

Asked what that retribution would be? Ken Henry V quipped. “ Aha, our secret weapon, we nickname her the Black Death of public confidence, We’ll roll out Anna Bligh. And, (before having a seizure bought about by non-stop convulsive laughter) being an ex Labor pollie she will do you all over and say “ She Cares”.

And why? Because we CAN’!

And we can’t spell Royal Commission either.

AFL promotion of the ” Commissar” range of affordable Sino-Georgian Housing at Shangai Trade Fair. Courtesy Property Council of Australia.

Exciting news from the Aussie housing industry. In Shanghai the other day a magnificent display of aussie sportsmanship was put on display to promote the new ‘Commissar’ range of villas. In a special unveiling held at the National People’s Army shooting range the AFL Chief Executive Gillon Mclachlan was there to cut the ribbon.

“This is a red letter day for aussie sport and the Australian housing industry. And I’ve gotta tell you this fusion of Aussie Rules is just what the Communist party needs to turn its party members to nation building. For years we Australians have been on the bottom of the ladder as far as investment into R & D and technology. Since Joe Hockey killed off the car industry we’ve been going down down down.. Now with the “Commissar”, we can offer a whole new range of super executive villas right across Australia at knock down prices.

Corporate execs display mascot’s of two endangered species to rally support for Australian banks who are being asked by the Federal Goverment to contribute a further .065 of profits back to the public. ‘Un-Australian’

These villas are the very latest in Sino-Georgian Splendour. And there’s bad news for current owners of Sino Georgian mansions in Balwyn and Nth Balwyn. The “Nero”, the “Caligula”, and the innovative “Kleptocrat’ will soon be obsolete. They only take up 95% of the block. That’s just wasting under-utilised space. With the ‘Commissar’, the entire block and three levels of vacant air are completely filled to ensure comfort, security and plenty of work for the staff. And that’s just for starters, the features, are how shall I put it, even more “ featuristic”.

You’ve got a Palladian frontage, marble staircase and the very finest chandeliers, some of it imported from actual France. Inside it’s a butlers kitchen, fourteen bathrooms, luxury bedroom suites and a whole floor devoted to just one television. For too long party cadres have lived in humble abodes. It’s been for them an over long-march. This will not do. It’s put a huge burden on the Chinese people. Now that burden is lifted. And for malcontents, the facade is a perfect backdrop for any shooting party. For those occasional times when troublemakers get in the way of progress. I’m sure we could something like this for coal mine protestors and environmentalists in Australia, (Huge Laughter).

AFL Execs proudly display 4 million invested to provide a near empty stadium in a country of 1.4 billion people.

We’re delighted that Port Adelaide and the Gold Coast Suns could fly all the way to promote this flagship housing model, and rest assured each player will be given a replica brick from the Great Wall to demonstrate our commitment to providing incentive for highly skilled workers to jump on board the flagship of Australian Industry; Real Estate’.

Scene of overjoyed party members celebrating Port Adelaide’s historic win.

On hand the director of party propaganda and the secret police, praised the initiative, “Though no one here knows, understands or is even interested in the game, it’s exciting to see platinum class party members receiving free food and drink courtesy of the Australian Government. We’re very happy with the sound system which does a very good job with the synthetic crowd sounds. The cheering and chanting were very similar to those we employ at party meetings, and preferred party investor portfolio meetings with the down trodden minorities of Australia.

We are very glad with this initiative and trust that similar displays by the Australian cricket team will be a resounding success. It proves the reliability of the Australian housing market as a pillar of our two economies. To protect our market from non-party interlopers, the ordinary non-party people of Australia, and those not directly connected to the housing industry. And those persecuted minorities in Australia who must be freed’.

We asked the secret police chief who those minorities were, and suggested, indigenous australians, refugees, the mentally ill?

‘No’. He said. “Bankers”.

Today Pythagorus, or more accurately poems about the man and Pythagorean thought.

Pythagoras of Samos (b. about 570 – d. about 495 BC) was an Ionian Greek philosopher, mathematician, and founder of the religious movement called Pythagoreanism. Most of the information about Pythagoras was written down centuries after he lived, so very little reliable information is known about him. He was born on the island of Samos, and might have travelled widely in his youth, visiting Egypt and other places seeking knowledge. Around 530 BC, he moved to Croton, a Greek colony in southern Italy, and there set up a religious sect. His followers pursued the religious rites and practices developed by Pythagoras, and studied his philosophical theories. The society took an active role in the politics of Croton, but this eventually led to their downfall. The Pythagorean meeting-places were burned, and Pythagoras was forced to flee the city. He is said to have ended his days in Metapontum.

Pythagoras made influential contributions to philosophy and religious teaching in the late 6th century BC. He is often revered as a great mathematician, mystic and scientist, but he is best known for the Pythagorean theorem which bears his name. However, because legend and obfuscation cloud his work even more than that of the other pre-Socratic philosophers, one can give only a tentative account of his teachings, and some have questioned whether he contributed much to mathematics and natural philosophy. Many of the accomplishments credited to Pythagoras may actually have been accomplishments of his colleagues and successors. Whether or not his disciples believed that everything was related to mathematics and that numbers were the ultimate reality is unknown. It was said that he was the first man to call himself a philosopher, or lover of wisdom, and Pythagorean ideas exercised a marked influence on Plato, and through him, all of Western philosophy.

This dispatch arrived in our inbox late last night!

Hola,
Around 1970 we travelled from Calgary (Alberta, Canada) to San Francisco (and back).

At frequent intervals we were confronted by billboards advertising some tourist trap …. “As seen in Ripley’s Believe it or Not” was the come-on:

I don’t recall us cynical Australians having been persuaded to visit any of these not to be missed attractions.

Neither have we any regrets for having avoided these once in a lifetime opportunities, nor are Ripley’s sacred sites on our bucket list.

Non Je Ne Regrette Rien – Edith Piaf   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zRCYEkA0_q8

Ever since having been made aware of the Ripley’s sub-culture we have used Ripley’s as an adjective as in “that is very Ripley’s”

This youtube clip (“Warlpiri Counting”) is very Ripley’s
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=asM39tfblMQ

“Aren’t these Natives interesting and weird? Fancy they don’t have numbers!” (As seen in Ripley’s Believe it or Not)

A good way to guard against ethnocentricity (of which all humans are more or less guilty) is to turn things around 180 degrees.

Such as: “Aren’t these English speakers interesting and weird? Fancy they have no dual Personal Pronouns!” (as seen in Ripley’s Believe it or Not)

Much that is written and believed about Aboriginal Australia is very Ripley’s.

The Warlpiri Counting clip is at least 100% wrong. Jinta is one, Jirrama is two, and as far as I can tell always have been used forever.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ls68jEnN7Ik – Stevie Wonder – I believe (when I fall in love it will be forever)

A good friend of ours is the proud custodian of an approximately one metre long snake carved out of mulga wood. The grain of the wood follows the sinuous pattern of the snake along its entire length. A Warlpiri person wandering through mulga scrub recognised the snake- definitely a case of seeing the wood in the trees!

A wirliki is the Warpiri word for what is known in English as a “number seven boomerang”. Wirliki are far rarer than karli (hook-less boomerangs) because a requirement for a good boomerang is that the grain of the wood follows its shape. This requires someone to spot the wirliki and karli in the trees. Central Australian boomerangs weren’t designed to come back.

Anyone who has watched people play cards in Yuendumu is aware that generally speaking Warlpiri people are quite numerate (some extraordinarily so).

When so called bi-lingual education was introduced into Government schools in the Northern Territory (1974) a need arose to have Warlpiri words for numbers.

Thus arose:
Jinta, Jirrama, Marnkurrpa, Murntu (or Mirdi), Rdaka, Jika, Wirliki, Milpa, Narntirnki, Karlarla (one to ten).

The most obvious one being rdaka (hand) for number five. And so it came to pass that wirliki came to be used for the number seven.

Warlpiri people may not have had words for numbers but they certainly had a concept of number. Take the Pleiades, known as the Seven Sisters in English. The Warlpiri had (and have) the Napaljarri-warnu Jukurrpa sort of translated into English as “The Seven Sisters Dreaming”. In Warlpiri they also are sisters, as they are almost uncannily (believe it or not) in countless cultures. To the best of my knowledge they are invariable depicted by Warlpiri people as a cluster of seven stars, not eight, not nine but unerringly seven.

Painting by Alma Nungarrayi ( I suggest you Google ‘alma nungarrayi granites seven sisters dreaming’ Images- you’ll be astounded)

Nangala (who studied psychology) tells me that seven is generally the maximum number of objects humans can perceive at a glance and know how many there are without counting. She tells me that chickens are also limited to perceive seven objects at a glance. It has got me beat how they tested the chicken’s limits of perception. Just as well there aren’t eight Napaljarri, or the chickens might get lost.

The prime number seven crops up in countless ways:

Break a mirror, and you get seven years of bad luck…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QQAbzLUl9ns Stevie Wonder ‘Superstition’

How many Wonders of the World did the Ancient Greeks have?… Seven

How many Deadly Sins are there?….. Seven

What causes the largest number of marriages to go pear shape?….The Seven year Itch.

And then there is the iconic Holywood film ‘The Magnificent Seven’ itself inspired by the Japanese film ‘Seven Samurai” (セブンサムライ)

Don’t know why, but somehow ‘The Magnificent Six’ or ‘The Magnificent Nine’ doesn’t have the same ring. Nor do the ‘Twenty-three Deadly Sins’

I could fill pages (and put everyone to sleep) on ‘seven’ related trivia but I won’t.

I shall confine myself to a 7-year political 180 degree turn around by one of my all-time favourite politicians, none other than Jenny Macklin. La Macklin, who caused the greatest damage to the social fabrics of Aboriginal Australia by anyone in recent memory.

In an ABC News article I learn that Centrelink’s cashless welfare card compulsorily rolled out in a trial to Ceduna (South Australia) and Western Australia’s East Kimberley, had about 1,850 people covered by the trial. The debit card provider Indue Ltd. Is being paid at least $7.9M (presumably annually)- a bargain I reckon. It is about the same amount as the Police Complex at Yuendumu cost- Seven million plus.

From the article: “Labour does not believe that the cashless debit card should be rolled out nationally,” Opposition social services spokeswoman Jenny Macklin said.

In 2010 (Seven years earlier) an article in the Australian included: “In November, Ms Macklin said she would extend across the nation an income-management scheme already operating in 73 indigenous communities in the Northern Territory….

….She said it was time for Opposition Leader Tony Abbott to state his position and help her make her plan law”

Once again I’m flummoxed- I offer no further comment, and will seek solace in some nice music….
If you ever change your mind……

The Animals- ‘Bringing it on home to me’
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=piwWpCSo0-0

Or if you can spare the time…
The Animals – Bring It On Home To Me (Live, 1983 reunion)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wTef7TF5rHs

Or where it began….Sam Cooke
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6azbeWRkhoE

Chau,
Frank

Though things are not looking good at Fairfax. We have been told that with the federal budget an allowance has been made to re-train a new category of unemployed, the ex-Fairfax journalist. This exciting initiative has been sponsored by Border Force and the Queensland Labor Party who are keen to get Fairfax journalists opportunities to provide positive stories on both Nauru and Manaus Island and the Adani Coal mine.

And singularly to assist the federal government in fighting the scourge of drug- affected dole recipients. Both Minister’s Dutton and Frydenberg were on hand to congratulate the board of Fairfax for allowing ex Fairfax employees this opportunity to boost their “ employability” by retraining them as waste water analysts.

Dole Bludgers. Righteous indignation.

In a budget paper lockdown the Treasurer Mr Morrison outlined his innovative plan; ‘Yes indeed these journalists used to cause us quite a bit of stick by looking into our affairs, and I can tell you it caused us some considerable discomfort. Often they would go beyond their journalistic briefs by looking into things such as the portfolio of investment properties and other colourful investment schemes. With the “You-poo” and the “My-wee” investigation we will enable these journalists to fully implement their investigative skills in tracking down drug affected dole bludgers. They have the capacity to transform the lives of the long term unemployed and get them off the scourge of drugs. And in doing so these bludgers will be punished, their access to unemployment benefits removed and their eligibility for training schemes curtailed. This will be a boon for the prisons and justice systems in every state of the commonwealth and ensure that our streets the only place left for these malcontents to roam. And in doing so we’ll bring the scourge of drugs out into the open.

This programme is a world first. For a start we shall be installing our analytical equipment only in very poor and disadvantaged areas. We acknowledged that there may be significant drug taking in the higher echelons of the judiciary, advertising, medical and stockbroking fraternities, but they are the right drugs, and as enablers allow them to perform their duties unaffected.

Toilets at Centrelink will be screened.

We have clear indicators that the Fairfax journalists will have the aptitude to test both the recipients of welfare for drug taking and un-Australian activity and isolate the source of affected waste water.

And this waste water can then be used to stimulate growth in some of the highly successful aquaculture schemes at work in Tasmania, where there is a significant correlation between unemployment and highly drug enhanced waste water. For aboriginal communities their basics card will be tongue activated, to ensure that only drug and alcohol free withdrawals can be made by tongues, and we’re trialling an electric shock component to stimulate an appropriate reaction.

By the year 2020 unemployment amongst the drug affected will cease. Ultimately this will have a significant impact on our triple bottom line. Thats a win win scenario. And it comes with the added bonus. It’ll boost our credit rating.

They’re happy staff at Fairfax. Employees discuss possible move to PCbyCP offices.

Dear reader these are interesting times. We feel it a duty of responsibility to our readership to assure them that there is no truth in the rumour that we have been approached by persons unknown to take on the task of rescuing Fairfax. We feel honoured that it has come to this. That we should be chosen as the most likely inheritor to a noble tradition of independent journalism stretching some 150 years. And, though we were tempted, seriously tempted, we felt that we were unable to do Fairfax justice,

Hotel Arlon. PCbyCP Policy and Discussion Papers crafted here. Courtesy Dept of Foreign Affairs and Trade.

You see it’s not that we wouldn’t like to take on the mantle of the Sydney Morning Herald or the Age. It’s just that we haven’t got the capacity. At them moment, since the departure of Mr Krinklade, (who you may remember had a seizure when we mentioned the upgrade to the printing presses) we couldn’t justify the extra staff numbers in the tea room, and the office break-out area. This matter was discussed at the higher level by Messers Cockburn and Poole in their annual peer review meeting held at the very sumptuous Hotel Adlon  (paid for by the department of foreign affairs and trade) for the odd well intentioned article in their excellent work in securing contracts for Australian businesses.

When supervising our offshore tax haven we quite like to dine at Maxim’s. No room for investigative journalism here also.

We also felt that our current arrangements, which include the enticing inducements of free tickets to both the footy and the cricket, courtesy of News Limited would be compromised if we went a litle too left leaning. And to top that off, Cecil didn’t quite like the idea of vacating his penthouse at No 1 Spring Street, where he is closer to the pulse. You see his apartment, which is quite sumptuous is provided by the Property Council as a gift for some of the more favourable articles we write about the growth and stunning potentialities of Sino- Georgian housing, and the potential to use homeless as mulching medium on large scale agricultural projects. Indeed we shall be devoting a full week to the exciting potential of opening up the north of Australia for residential housing sub divisions and the unlocked minerals and energy held in our National Parks. And we are entirely thankful for the Minerals and Energy Council in providing us funding so that we could write some excellent articles on removal of aboriginal out stations.

And that’s the point of this ownership issue. We are a progressive broadsheet, and canvas a broad spectrum of Australian local opinion. We couldn’t in all consciousness take on the burdensome task of rescuing Fairfax. We admit that the board of Fairfax have done their utmost to make their company a most desirable asset. But unfortunately we neither have the capacity and aknowledge that their future looks bleak as a consequence of their disinterest in more progressive business models.

Happy News Corp employees demonstrating new value for Fairfax Printing Presses as high rise models for proposed Nothern developments. C/O Sino-Georgian Developments Inc.

We wish them luck and know that with the acquisition of what’s left of Fairfax by an assets company, (TPG) they have every opportunity to ensure that there is a place for independent journalism in Australia.

As an offshore venture.

UPDATE – see Ira Maine’s comments below!

This is for all those who espouse good old family values.

Today’s dispatch is  ‘Communication’.  Originally dispatched on 9 April  2016

Hi OMs, YLs and XYLs,

Consulting that modern suppository of wisdom (to paraphrase our favourite former Prime Minister), Wikipedia, I find that the word ‘compassionate’ evolved from the Latin ‘compassio’ (co-suffering) a word embodied in the Golden Rule: “do onto others as you would have them do to you”. With the notable exception of masochists, this isn’t a bad rule to aspire to live by.

The word ‘communication’ also evolved from Latin. ‘Communicare’ (to share).

Billy Bragg, Do unto Others… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UdxBdl0JTyQ

Humanity has raised communication to highly sophisticated and complex heights, the same can’t be said for compassion. Before eliciting pedantic comments, let me make it clear that these are generalisations.

To my mind the crowning glory of Humanity’s evolution is the incredible and wonderful cultural/linguistic diversity. Sadly (here comes another generalisation) this diversity is far from given the appreciation and importance it deserves. Smart bombs (as in contrast to ‘stupid’ bombs) and those euphemistically named “area deprivation devices” (land mines) and “Improvised Explosive Devices” (IEDs or roadside bombs in plain English) are way down my list of Human achievement.

A Dispatchee sent me this:
http://videosift.com/video/British-Reporter-Loses-His-Shit-And-Reports-The-NEWS  

We all need to let off a bit of steam on occasions. This is an example of how it should be done. Well worth three minutes of your time.

One form of communication that gave me great pleasure, was (and hopefully will be again) amateur radio (“ham” radio). Yuendumu had a very low QRM (static interference) level compared with any urban location with its swarm of motor vehicles, motors, electric cables etc. that generate radio frequency ‘noise’. It also had very low QRN (interference from other radio stations) for the simple reason that the density of radio transmitters was very low. From memory there were only 28 or so licensed Amateur radio stations in the Northern Territory. The Wireless Institute of Australia issued a “worked all states” certificate to overseas Amateurs who could prove they had ‘contacted’ someone from every State and Territory in Australia. They proved this by submitting a batch of QSL cards (postcard sized verification cards exchanged with other amateurs with details of radio contacts- date and time, band, signal strength etc.). My favourite radio frequency band was the 20-meter band (14 Mhz), which under the right sunspot conditions enabled communication with the whole globe, by either the short or long path. Yes folks, the world is definitely round.

I recall that there were 350,000 radio amateur stations in Japan, many of whom needed that VK8 (Northern territory call-sign prefix) QSL card to complete the set to enable them to claim the WIA certificate! Thus if I called CQ and had my antenna pointed at Japan, it was reminiscent of those old documentaries that show pole fishing for tuna. “Kon ban wa Katsu-san, anata-no signal reporto five and seven, watashi-no antenna-wa twenty meters high desu. Watashi no QTH-wa Yuendumu-desu….” …“ Arrigato Frank-san please send me your QSL card”

“ It is very crowdy in Japan today” I can’t recall a single contact in which I was told that Japan wasn’t ‘crowdy’. I had visions of a heap of friends, neighbours and family surrounding Katsu-san in a tiny radio shack in Osaka, while he spoke with me. Very crowdy indeed. I was able to almost invariably tell my Japanese friends that in Yuendumu (“I cannot find this on the map Frank-san”) we had clear skies (‘Yoyi tenki desu’, I think is what it was called). The Maori name for New Zealand is ‘Aotearoa’ which means ‘the land of the long white crowd’. I think Japan should be named ‘the land of the eternal crowd’ (in more ways than one!)

Which brings me to a poster emanating from the Central Desert Regional Council:

Southern Tanami Kurdiji (Mediation + Justice)

Compassionate Communication TRAINING (their capitals)

Mediation Centre- Wednesday 6 April 2016- 5pm start

Tribal Elders, Directors and Executive Members are all invited to attend this training with CSP staff to learn about Compassionate Communication for a more peaceful community.

Which for some unexplainable reason prompted me to look up the Wiktionary definitions of ‘patronise” and ‘patronizing’:

“To treat as inferior unduly, talk down to, treat condescendingly”

and “speaking or behaving towards someone as if they are stupid or not important”

When it comes to communication between Mainstream and Indigenous Australia it all amounts to a massive Communication Breakdown…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MgRwHtmOA2E&nohtml5=False  (Led Zeppelin).

As for Compassionate Communication, I won’t bother to go there.

73’s
VK8FB

CSP=‘Community Safety Patrol’ the new name for the Yuendumu initiated Night Patrol. 

The Q-code evolved from the pre AM (Amplitude Modulation) and SSB (Single Side Band) morse-code days. It enabled people that spoke different languages to do a fair bit of communicating. A bit like written Chinese whereby people that speak a different Chinese language and/or dialect can communicate with each other.
73 is –…  …– (dah,dah, dididit….. dididit, dah dah)  in morse and means ‘good bye’

John Coates AOC Head. Likes the Olympics Committe Job, so much he has his sheets, drapes and tea towels all cut from the same cloth. An enormous sacrifice on his paltry 700 k salary.

Forget about Joe Hockey wiping out the car industry and taking a cushy job in Washington. Forget about the yawning gap between the haves’ and the have nots’, and forget about the incredible funding changes to uber rich schools with Gonski 2.0. They’re all irrelevant. What really matters in this country is the standing of the head of the Australian Olympic Committee.

‘Richo”, the man you need when you’re being challenged by a sheila.

As far as sinecures go this is possibly the cushiest job in town. For twenty eight years it’s been held by John Coates. To coin the Barry Humphries-ism, “ He’s internationally famous in Australia” for holding the Australian Olympic Committee in international regard. His salary is a mere seven hundred thousand, and with a salary like that we can bet he almost matches federal politicians for Investment property portfolio’s. That’s the best thing about senior executives who get paid that much, they always are steadfast agents for change. Well , provided that change doesn’t affect their self interest. Thats what’s pretty good about the status quo right across the board, they’re all pretty comfy, and though they may snipe a bit, they’re not all that interested in tax policy equity or even health care. But they’re terribly important. And they’re fond of telling us so. QED, ‘We’, the great unwashed are un-important.

But we digress. John is seriously worried, he’s been there for bloody years and some upstart sheila wants his job. John has got some good mates. For starters his best mate is Graeme Richardson. And if you’re under fire, he’s the go-to bloke. Actually after the spectacular fire at the printing business he owned with Rene Rivkin, there’s a pretty good chance he’ll come out on top. John is also backed by Mark Arbib. He was the faceless numbers man, who sent the Rudd Government , ( though Rudd didn’t need much helping) into under-drive. Mark will sort out almost any problem, and with a bit of luck he’ll come out on top as well. He’s a bit like ‘Jumpin-Joe’ Hockey, always sure to make his pitch very self advantageous, but intellectually lazy most of the other time. In Australia, the lazier you are, the more ambitious you are. Makes you a winner.

Mark Arbib. Head of Athletics Australia. ( sorry, we are not joking)

There’s not much winning on the medal tally, and that’s a really an important indicator of where this country is that. And there’s not much happiness in the Australian Olympic Committee. Danni Roche, (Who the F is she?), the pretender, actually used to play sport. Worse still, she’s from Victoria. That’s just not cricket! John and his mates are fuming. It’s just not the burdensome task of being a representative of the IOC, which is almost as colourful as being a member of FIFA. It’s the task of going on junkets, accepting gifts, being wined and dined, and looking terribly important. ALL OF THE TIME!!

Dannii Roche, Actually plays sport, and says she could do the job for 100k. How dare she!

And besides, it’s about representing Australian values, of narrowness, smugness, self- interest insularity and hubris. That’s a struggle. But with ‘Richo’ and ‘Marko’ on the job, guaranteed the votes will go John’s way. And that’s the true principle of Aussie sport; ‘Mateship’.

This piece was published by Elly Varenti on Facebook. It is beautiful, and a perfect testament to a life lived full.

A best friend for over 30 years, Michael Gurr came to live in ‘my’ street in Castlemaine in regional Victoria 3 years ago. He loved the place. Occasionally I would protest its smallness, its arty-folksy-smallness and he would just look at me, proffer another piece of his onion tart or tea cake or some such other Moroccan or Mediterranean thing he had just made and say something like, ‘El, negative is easy, try positive, it’s harder.’ Or, ‘I hope you are not on some bloody nonsense diet again because I have made French custard poached pears.’

He loved to cook, to garden and, most recently, to walk home form town carrying big-ish new things for the house: an olde-worlde record player so that he could revisit his millions of Dylan albums. A large framed drawing/collage by a local artist – ’Take a closer look’, he said. ‘There’s more to it, the closer you get.’ Once I arrived at his place – a daily or double-daily visit usually -and he announced that he had bought 3 quail. ‘Yuk. I can’t eat quail,’ I said. ‘They are far too small and delicate and it just feels wrong somehow.’ ‘Not to eat,’ he said. ‘To admire. They are magnificent.’ And there they were outside the back screen door, all set up in their new little double storey hutch replete with straw matting, tiny pot plants and an ensuite bathing area.

His little weatherboard cottage opposite the footy oval was comfort and joy to him, poised as it was in perfect perving distance from the parade of locals on the way to the pub or train station or botanic gardens or pool in our street. He relished the crispy night footy training and Saturday matches – ‘I love the sound of it,’ he said. ‘It’s the sound of place and belonging.’ He always had something or other to give to my mother or me every time I left – The Guardian Weekly usually. My 85-year-old mother was always grateful – she loved him like a son and got cross with him like a son too – but she never was able to read those papers for the tininess of the print but never had the heart to tell him. Michael also gave her the latest political biography he had just devoured and once insisted she read one of his beloved Elizabeth David cook books. Mum was not interested in the cook books but took the other stuff happily. Last week it was a jar of pickled lemons. ‘They are not ready yet so don’t open them, just let them be for a while. Somethings do get better in time, you know.’ The pickled lemon philosopher sometimes gave me the shits. He could be opinionated and obstinate too. But kindness and largesse… Mate, he invented those words.

From the moment I met him when we were 21 and 22 respectively, I knew he was something out of the box: so smart, so funny, so generous, so wicked, so old-young, so singular, so confident without swagger, so unwittingly beautiful. The first time I saw one of his plays I experienced a sort of dwarfing awe. The second time I saw one of plays, I forgot it was a play, so immersed was I in his writing’s signature rhythms, the ideas layered and demanding, the wit, rude and shocking, the characters flawed and magnificently conflicted, and the politics searing and prescient.

We lived together for 5 years in our 20’s and they were, really, no nostalgia here because, ‘Nostalgia is a conservative impulse. A retreat into what seems knowable is dangerous,’ he reckons. They were 5 of the most creative, instructive, hilarious, vital and deliciously, domestically safe and exciting years of my life.

In recent months Michael became ill. He never complained, he never asked much of me or others, only for me to be kind of around and to sometimes drive him places because he had always refused, perversely, to ever get a bloody licence and walking even short distances had got hard for him. Our time together began to change, the balance to shift, as his fiercely resistant increasing dependence began to take centre stage.

I have never loved another person like I have loved this extraordinarily gifted (yes, an unfashionable word I know) man. His loyalty to his ‘tribe’, as he would say, was breath-taking, if not sometimes intractable and stubborn.
A true autodidact, Michael was learning up until 9 days before he died. ‘Did you know,’ he said to me while we sat in his favourite cafe atop the hill at the back of his house in the old gaol drinking black tea and eating apple slices. ‘I dreamt a new play last night. First time in ages. It’s called karaoke. Did you know, that I have been spelling the word kareoke wrong for years?’ And then I asked, as I have always asked every single time over the past 35 years even though I always get the same answer.’ What’s it about?’ And then he says, ‘I never talk about what I’m writing. Why would I? Once I speak it, then it no longer demands to be written.’

Michael’s work was his life, his life his work, his family his theatre, his friends his family, his sisters and brothers, his nieces and nephews, my son, his god children, his students, his former-partner of 23-years, his comrades, his colleagues, his actors, his pollys, his barber, his fish monger, his books, his newspapers, his quail and his cat were his life. His death feels like an amputation.

Who the fuck is going to call out my whingeing now? Who in hell do I give my miserable first drafts to for brutal but fair editing? Who do I now visit most days and wish to god he would stop smoking inside the house like it’s still the 1980s? Who do I care about and for, because he has always, always cared about, and for me? Who has my back now?