P.M demonstrates forearm technique colloquially referred to as the ” Sledge- hammer”

Dear reader, back again to a tale that seems longer than the Coalition’s negation of a credible climate policy. But there’s cause for optimism, a whole two thousand words have elapsed since any mention was made of Barnaby, Tudgey or Christian. Is this a new dawn? Has dawn broken? “ Who’s dawn”? Dirty finger anyone, ? 

Not a dry eye in the audience, so read on about a dry time in the dry heart of the worlds driest continent where all the wet bits, as scarce as  they may  be, are owned by a man from the Cayman Islands they call ‘Angus’, read on..

‘Look Ces, down there’!!

The ‘Sledge- hammer’ is a desperate tennis strategy designed to bamboozle the opposition.

Quent nudged his companion and pointed to the vast array stretching below them. See that light way over in the corner, that must be a way out? I can tell Ces.  There’s a door, of immeasurable size, and above it, a green sign.  And above the sign the sign says ‘Exit’. 

‘You’re right Quent!” said Ces  who’s irrefutable logic was tinged with a tremor of anxiety.  ‘The only problem is how do we get over there when we’re stuck up here.  I feel like Houdini crossing the Niagara Falls and we aint even got a barrel. You’re right, but thinking of barrels, we do have Sophie in front of us’? 

It was typical of their stoic behaviour to make fun of the situation. Poised perilously above the abyss, in nowhere, above nothing, they could still see the funny side. It’s what made the Australians so appreciative of the bond of mateship and Anzackery that could equip them to survive worse scrapes or world wars and the nadir of Australian Climate policy. 

Played incorrectly it can mis-fire with disastrous consequences.

‘I dunno Ces, it’s an awful long way down, and even if we tried we’ve got that public order response vehicle packed to the armpits with electronic surveillance equipment, anti riot personnel equipment, water cannon, tasers and face masks for public liaison and school crossing supervision. They’d nab us in seconds and we’d be in a worse position. Perhaps you can ask Sophie, she seems to be calm, and clearly she had an expectation of something like this’. 

But. No sooner had the words left Ces’s lips that Sophie turned to us and said menacingly, ‘well boys….. you wait here, cos I’ve got some business to make and any false move Terry will trip the ejector button’. With her thumb turned upside down we knew what she meant, So frozen to our seats we meekly nodded. Sophie stepped out of the tram onto a duckboard between the two slithers of rail.  She then walked resolutely to the armoured and armed Public Order Response Vehicle.

Till it gets to the stage where it doesn’t matter what size your constituency

Her MP 40 hung loosely from her side, and in the grey grim gloomy glow she looked even more like an animated wigwam returning to its campsite. But we knew that was a false illusion, cos this was not North America. Sophie by not being a tea drinker was not inclined to tepee, and if she were a native American in America, (or Australia) she would be arrested on the spot for jay-walking, disturbing the peace, vagrancy, and for not knowing Bradman’s test average. We sat and watched, as Sophie was halfway to the armoured vehicle when the turret moved and the hatch opened. The sides of the hatch made a dull mechanic clunk which was swallowed by the cavernous space and from out perspective we saw nothing else but a faint light that shone from within.

After what seemed ages, from the canopy, we saw emerge a gleaming disk. It outshone even the blue light and the reflected a  halo of dust and still air. The disk grew in size like the martian tentacles in HG Wells ‘War of the Worlds”, and yet this in Australia, was  more a ‘war of the inner earth’. If Australia was ever at war with itself it would be deep down, where destiny was protected by the twin pillars of mining and  real estate. In a second we knew who it was, we hadn’t seen him for months, and yet as he emerged it was all dome, all skull and cranium, the visage of the cleverest and shiniest man in our Nations Parliament.  Peter “dutto’ Dutton.

‘It’s Dutto Ces’, 

‘Yeah I can see that’!

‘What’s he doing down here’? 

‘I dunno. But seems Sophie and him are still mates and that can only mean one thing. They’ll open up some more prisons and fill em with refugees or locals from outstations’?

You face the ‘WTF Moment’

‘Nup, it means that and beyond everything, we’ve experienced to date,  though  far-fetched is in order. These people are on our side in protecting Australia from the taint of foreign-ness, and that’s a great comfort. Even tennis players wont get through their web of raw steel’!

Dutto waved Sophie , and deliberately, the stilettos making dull percussive knocks upon the duckboards, she walked towards Dutto. 

Could be worse….Beyond the ‘WTF moment’ Tennis becomes existential.

Will this be Sophies version of ‘Mr Livingstone I presume’? What are we to presume? Presumptions aside you’d be a fool to miss a step in this plausibly penultimate episode, ‘Footsteps in the dark’, or ‘Mind those stiletto’s  and fish- nets, one slip and you’re a Downer’!

Recruited by ASIO and the Signals Directorate George worked tirelessly as our front man during the Cold War.

Dear reader ,we return once again to our saga our heroes travelling upwards at last. But coming up for air? as Orwell would postulate or about to go down again.? Where the highs are lows and the lows are more marginal than Craig Kelly’s sense of civic responsibiity there maybe nowhere else to go. But their faith in themselves remains undiminished. We should all share their optimism. So take a pill, or another sachet of Bex powder,  pour a new years whiskey and play your favourite George Formby 78’s because in this episode our heroes may yet unlock the key, or wipe the slate and flush the system to do  whatever it takes to step into a new dawn, on the night of their new morning and pluck Honor Blackman from the jaws of victory, 

Read on if you dare. 

Ces and Quent continued in their fateful philosophising of their role as mere specks in the great confluence of what scientists refer to as history…

Before AUKUS there was the protection and security offered by the Maginot Line. George entertains the troops. (rumoured cause of the Maginot failure).

‘Didn’t Derrida, or Fukuyama or that other silly yank bastard or some other post modernist proclaim the ‘death of history’? Wasn’t it some froggy intellectual like Barthes who banged on about post- modernism and had us all navel gazing at why we should be guilty for inheriting two thousand years of collective wisdom so we wouldn’t die of small pox and believe that Obama was an alien or the Clintons reptilian other world- beings? Isn’t that the substance of what history is these days’?

‘Yup mate that was before instagram. Now history is digital. More histrionic than history itself. History these days is reality television. A twitter post from Donald or Clive Palmer and whatever Facebook morphed into.  The Meta verse’?  Ces enquired, ‘yeah something like that.  The Brave New Virtual World where you don’t even have to look outside, its all in the ether. You can spend an entire lifetime contemplating your navel then go up your own arse and emerge from between your false teeth and epiglottis and ask yourself what you’re having for breakfast? The whole realm of nature, ecology, natural history and everything that’s beautiful and can’t be converted into bits or meta- data is irrelevant, and all that’s left is shopping and self absorption. It’s a paradise for the self obsessed and infinitely more rewarding than stupid stuff like literature, music, poetry and painting. The skill is not in execution, but being so consistently self-absorbed you can fuck yourself on a daily basis and be replenished as you do it.  It’s nirvana of the neophyte. The miasma of the modern era. And you cant get more moderner than that’!

An Australian genius

The famous French Philosopher, ‘Danton Porquois-Pus’, Famed for boring people so tediously he turned to stone.

Quent shuddered at Ces’s distortions, malapropisms and grammatical inexactitude, but recognised the truth within. ‘You’re right Ces, here we are in deep space for all it matters a blue light to the front of us, Sophie and Terry at the controls and Benny-Boy in the rear. I don’t know what Foucault or any of those froggy post modernists would interpret this, but to my logic we’re more fucked than a refugee boat in the Arafura Sea looking for refuge, a decent meal and a fair hearing. Didn’t they say in space no-one can hear you scream? We’ve been yelling our heads off for years and no one’s listening. Not even Sophe, as she’s used to not being heard’. Quent paused for added emphasis,  ‘as a sheila?’. They had both arrived at an end point in Australian society, the role of women. Either of them knew to that conundrum there was no easy answer, as all of them in their own way had been touched by the hand of an all loving GOD.

Only known image of Fukuyama.

Just then the blue light stopped flashing and became much brighter, and within seconds they both realised that their theory about being in a vast subterranean chamber proved correct. For there in front of them to the blue light pulsed with a super-novan intensity, and they could see that it was indeed the lighting apparatus of a  dark box-like structure. And as the light grew progressively stronger they could see amongst the black the lettering ‘ Public Order Response Vehicle’ , the type used by Victoria Police. And the vehicle though painted deep black had stopped dead still. They noticed it had been equipped wth train wheels, (bogies) which glinted dully and what they next noticed made them grip the sides of their conveyance for sheer life, because their conveyance was poised upon a spaghetti thin tendril of steel and rail. Their specific track a paper thin thread suspended impossibly thousands of feet above what looked like a gigantic circuit board. A metropolis of underground buildings, warehouses and industrial infrastructure, all dormant, lifeless, model- like and yet, eerily real. 

Two Genius’s. In Australia there is no collective noun to describe more than one genius. A failure of our educashion system perhaps?

Why had they stopped, why had everything gone dead still and yet eerily quiet? Find out in our next suspenseful episode. “ A railway in the dark” or  “ the Tay bridge’ by Macgonnagal disaster epic  re-visited could be a bigger disaster” ….

Dear reader, we usher in a new year with our heroes Ces and Quent ably assisted by Australia’s most decorated soldier ‘Benny-boy’ Roberts Smith still no further from finding who defiled their Tea-lady Mrs Culthrope. Imprisoned, imperilled and impugned by nefarious agencies known and unknown they discuss the true meaning of Christmas and Boxing Day sales, transubstantiation, immaculate conception and the validity of Scomo’s Innovative carbon reduction plan reliant upon ‘clean coal’ and burgeoning exports  of the same Black- Gold to India and China. They may not know it, but their ignorance, like Australian domestic policy is going nowhere, which to many is a source of deep and heart-felt comfort. Now to a comfort of a more spiritual kind. More valued than bitcoin perhaps, or (with an election looming) fully franked dividends? Read on for more elucidation from a place where the sun don’t shine. 

Australian of the year Brittany Higgins? Endorsement to be sponsored by White King and Bex Powder.

Read on….

The tram,  conveyance,  continued in its upward trajectory. How do our heroes know?  They could feel it. They felt it In as much a fish might be upside down and yet feel no sensation of being upside other than the trajectory of bubbles. Similarly, our heroes were in a similar cast. The sensation of traveling upwards was just a sensation, but when you’ve been bound and dragged for weeks by arguably Australia’s most formidable woman, Sophie, ‘is that a retired law  professor on your back paddock shed’? Mirabella, you’re thankful for the most marginal sensation at all. To be honest our heroes were just delighted to be alive. 

“What is it Ces’? Quent strained to see the blue light flashing and dancing ahead of them in the gloom.

Either one of these men rumoured to either share or self sacrifice one amongst them (as an enduring symbol of Mateship)  “Australian of the Year’!

‘I dunno Quent, but the fact that it appeared to come from a branch line or from thin-air suggests we must be rather than in a thin tunnel, but a gloomy vast underground chamber? It stands to reason, like our nations parliament, though there’s no decision making and no debate thats even remotely intelligent it doesn’t mean that in that cavernous space there’s nothing at all? That’s what Mrs Culthorpe, Brittany and Tudgey’s secretary got into trouble for , there’s goings on in our federal parliament that are almost supernatural and yet to the public, there’s nothing beyond the garishly vulgar post-modernist facade, Scomo door stops and Tudgey’s view on Australian history.  Every way you look at it, what happens beyond the facade is just a mystery. Cos it makes sense, when you look at it this way, whilst overall, it makes no fucking sense at all. 

‘You’re dead right Ces, bit like Gods will and all that stuff about ‘little baby Jesus’, the manger, and the three wise men. If it were three wise women we’d be hearing all about it on facebook and instagram,  but with men, they know how to keep things quiet’!

‘Yup’, ‘secret mens business” ! Whichever way you look at it blokes know how to just get on with the job and keep their mouth shut’. 

They both wondered about “mens business’ whilst the blue light, pulsing and dancing with its ineffable and seductive glow remained as seductive and illusive as ever. The ethereal pulse and blue-ish energy so soft yet so enticing held their attention and they scarcely noticed as it began to pulse more quickly. And now with more illumination between the pulses they could just make out some shape, ill defined and immeasurable and yet, something within the light that was both physical and mechanical. 

Clive, Australian of the year for making other pollies look almost electable.

‘You know Ces?, Quent nudged his companion, ‘Sophie and this bloke Terry seem to be cast in the same mould. They don’t question either this or another reality.  They’re not schismed by wondering about souls, spirituality, imagination, the human condition and meaning. They just seem to be happy in performing their jobs. And in Sophie’s case if the job gives her access to wealth, cash, jewellery and status, she’s unquestioning. In a way , this’ll knock you,  she’s upfront and more honest about herself than anyone on the planet. 

‘You’re right, she’s got what it takes, whereas we’re just….outcasts, out- dated, effete, cast- offs from the hippy era. We worry about stuff, climate, ecology, equity and issues that no-one gives a stuff about.  Do you think that’s where we went wrong’?

Do you think al those years of trying to find the truth were wasted, cos in the end there was no truth.?

‘And whatever truth there was, was just sort of’ Quent searched for the right epithet, “manufactured’?

I mean what is our truth? Perhaps Barnaby, Tudgey, Christian and Dutto were right all along? 

Perhaps locking up refugees and squealers is really what modern Australia is all about? And in this era we have of womens rights, after the first flourish with the concept in the 70’s,  identity politics, and the environment. Its a set of issues about as short lived as Prince Andrews memory of whether he did or didn’t go to Pizza Express in Woking when he was usually shagging anything in skirts? 

Stand to reason, we’re on the wrong side of history’. 

Tudgey’s ex-secretary Australian of the year ruled ineligible by ACB for ‘ball tampering’!

Is this the end of history? Are Quent and Ces wrapped up in a heinous web of crime and intrigue because their history is at an end?  What is the end if it isn’t the ending? Can you have an ending when there’s no start? And who started it anyway? Find out in the next compulsively implausible episode; ‘You did or you didn’t but for fucksakes what did you do in the first place?’, or “ To hell and back, and then back again”. 

Dear reader, we left off where our heroes left us, in the lurch as their conveyance, a light rail tram- like shuttle makes its way deep down in the subterranean gloom, beneath the desert sands of Maralinga. 

“Linger in Maralinga?

A little longer to linger, 

Is that the phone to ringa?

if you raise your index finger’ 

Were the poms touched by God on the third day?

So goes the popular dance hall tune by ‘Norm Smith and the Medallists’ in their fabulous 1951 hit, ‘You shine like uranium I’m all aglow over you’, and in a similar quirk of fate, their tram driver Terry has changed track and at long last the tram seemed to be going upwards. To the surface beyond? Who can tell? For Ces and Quent, their search continues, and they philosophise about Christmas, Boxing Day shopping and the eternal message bequeathed by little baby Jesus and his sacrifice so that we should enjoy an unexpected early third day end to the third test. 

The tram continued to rise upwards, for dear reader, and for those attuned to Einsteins theorem of relativity, it seemed to be travelling upwards, 

Ces and Quent continued in their conversation. 

Three wise men

‘So you see Ces, this light up ahead, even though we know were deep down below the surface is a little like the light over Bethlehem, and perhaps were inadvertently the three wise men.  That’s me, and you, and pointing behind Benny-boy. He may be a colossus but he knows how to get a VC and cover himself with glory in shit- hole like Afghanistan. And that’s no mean feat! 

You’re right, but then what does that make Sophie and Terry the tram driver? 

I dunno, functionaries, or perhaps angels’? 

They both looked at Sophie hard. She looked like an angry Christmas pudding or a blue ring octopus on a bad hair day. It was hard to imagine her as anything other tha brutal, tough and Block- like.  But Angel? 

A star over Parliament

‘Even in the dark, the light plays tricks. Weren’t angels heard to sing on that night Mary found out she was up the duff with Jesus?

 I’m not sure.  I think she was up the duff before she got to Bethlehem? I mean even though Joseph was allegedly the dad, he cant have helped but wonder  if Mary hadn’t been out on the town with the lads and got herself into a bit of trouble. I mean if he hadn’t had a go at her how could her condition be explained? And I make this clear, as an un- ordained person with Mary was in the family way. You’d think he’d be a bit sus and wonder if the kid was gonna be a bit different, and perhaps that’s the problem with Mrs Culthorpe?

What do you mean Ces?

Well put it this way you know both sides of the front bench in both parties are now full of religious types?  I mean really god-fearing religious blokes like Barnaby and Tudgey and Christian. Well how could it not be possible that Mrs Culthorpe our tea-lady might not have been immaculately concepted as an Act of God? 

Was Tim Paine’s phone touched by God?

I mean in stands to reason, even Brittany might have been touched by God?

Was Brittany touched by God?

Look she gets magotted, goes to Parliament to recover, (not the best plan) and then wakes up defiled and dishevelled with no bloke within cooee. Even Christian was in WA, and Tudgey and Barnaby were on the job elsewhere.  It stands to reason, that Jesus mightn’t have been a one off? God they say works in mysterious ways, and he could have had a hand in both Mrs Culthorpe and Brittany and whilst he’s at it helped Barnaby get his secretary in the family way also. Aint God meant to be generous?  I mean, if a child is born under a star in Bethlehem and three wise men turn up out of the blue it only stands to reason that the same might happen elsewhere? Remember Quent on the top of Parliament, on that silly tripod thing, hasn’t it got the Australian federation star on it? Looks pretty much lke the one on our chrissy tree?

Could’ve happened to our very own women. Because why else would they be there? Scomo himself who’s in touch with God tells us they’re not really important in the scheme of things, as far as the Coalition is concerned other than to put up an appearance on the floor and look good for the cameras. I mean can you think of an outstanding lady MP on the front bench? Ces was stumped, he was aware of Michaela, and he knew some sheilah was a foreign minister but was confused with the alternating image of Alexander Downer in stilettos and fish nets.

Could the three wise men in our modern era be three wise women? Gina, Sophie and Julie?

He turned the ideas over inside his head, until he felt he needed to nod off. Ces was onto something  it just didn’t stack up and to his thinking there were parallels with their situation, both the role of women in the federal parliament and their fate was inextricably linked. And all roads led back to Sophie. Was she a woman? And with the blue flashing light ahead of them it didn’t make much sense at all. But them, it made a whole lotta sense. This was after all Australia, and that in itself made no sense at all. 

What will happen to our heroes next? Will they unravel this theophysical ball of twine?  Find out in our next episode, “The last gloomy candle in the sepulchre’, or ‘you may illuminate but you may not be enlightened’. 

For a long time Christmas has been an oportunity to promote healthy productes to kiddies

We return to our saga, Ces and Quent on a conveyance to Who knows Where? But all is not lost! Christmas has arrived and with it hope in a new era, redemption and the promise (at the very least)  with Sophie, as a Fair Work Commissioner of a hearing, perhaps even when pushed a slice of plum pudding. But to this moment no plum pudding is forthcoming. Just the plum-pudding-like silhouette of a Fair Work Commissioner hell-bent on global domination. What could happen next? Can you believe this? Believe it or not it’s a compelling subtext to Australia’s courageous efforts to maintain relevance on the global stage with no clear foreign policy than the thing they call ‘AUKUS’!  We take up here we left off…..……

‘I dunno Ces, perhaps we should pinch ourselves, I mean, we set out to find if it were one of Tudgey’s mates with form perhaps Christian or Barnaby who touched up Mrs Culthorpe and here we are weeks later being slotted for a protracted death by Sophie’. 

‘You’ve got something there Ces,  In a sense, like the shibboleth of the Coalition climate policy, a perpetual manifestation of the dark arts of alchemy, hocus-pocus and ‘clean coal’, presented as an illusory, but very real apparition that occurs at a specific moment in time only to disappear again.  As took pace at Glasgow or on the forecourt of parliament when Brittany Higgins tried to suggest that our pollies were only interested in pork-barrelling and pork swords-manship on an industrial scale’. 

‘I dunno Quent, like trying to find out who came up with Robo-debt, you’ll never know. There are some things the citizenry are not entitled to know and you know? Its better they remain ignorant for their own good. It’s like little baby Jesus and immaculate conception. Better to just believe it than wonder how immaculate conception works.  Is that why the Catholic church still pursues abuse survivors over their medical records’?  

Even in wartime Santa proved that efficacy of a smoke-screen to creep up on the unwary Jap or Hun.

‘You’ve got it on one. Not just to besmirch abuse survivors, but to ensure that their private live are used to shame them. Only through Shame and fear can the church maintain its pivotal position. Without it people might question immaculate conception, clean coal and a gas-led recovery’. 

Our two heroes then took time to reflect on the message of Christmas, Goodwill and fellowship to all, but in the the end decided that Christmas was really about presents, and shopping on Boxing Day. 

Ces continued with his introspective insights into what made Sophie tick…

‘Jeez Quent you’re right on so many levels. Perhaps that’s what gives Sophie her irrepressible desire to win. She just accepts all of the above as her destiny. Yep she’s got a destiny that’s manifest, and in the end we’re just ordinary humans. It aint all bad, to be tasered for jay walking, answering back or just smiling inappropriately. It’s good for law and order, and in the end with only a day till Christmas, I think that’s the message bequeathed by little baby Jesus’. 

Craig declined our offer to be the stand-in Santa as he could not provide “working with Children certification’.

It was eerily apt, to arrive at this philosophical conclusion to a miserable dark journey in which even the white bits were black. Buoyed by the completeness of their situation and the irrefutable logic of ‘clean-coal’ and immaculate conception, our heroes had at last found a measure of peace knowing at precisely that moment where they stood in the greater scheme of things. Mere specks to be compartmentalised and slotted according to the edicts of the system. There’s deep comfort in that, and it reassured them that in the end perhaps nothing really mattered. 

Just then the light which had led our conveyance changed colour and then, as if a switch had been pulled started flashing.  The tram convulsed as we sped through and interchange with the points clacking and squeaking to a new setting. We felt the trolley lurch as we changed track, the light now a  vivid blue. We felt for the first time the sense of upward movement.  We’re on the way up whispered Quent, this could be our chance. 

Clive has expressed some interest provided he keeps whatever is left in the sack.

Is it their chance? The last throw of the dice? Is this the spirit of Christmas? And if it is, is it methylated or Cinq ports?  Find our in the next convulsive episode, “Two tracks to one track mind”, or ‘Sophie’s or Hobson’s choice, is not much of a choice’.  

Dear reader, 

Vic Police Gang- tasering a suspected Jay walker. He was later medically euthanised for other citizen crimes, including walking against the red light, smiling in public, and not wearing a face- mask.

With only two days till Christmas we find out heroes Ces and Quent still no further in their quest to find out who defiled our tea-lady Mrs Culthorpe whilst she was working as a parliamentary intern in the nations parliament. With nerves frazzled by a long incarceration under the stewardship of Australia’s most powerful woman (now elected to the board of the Fair Work Commission), Sophie ‘I’ve got your testimonials in both hands’ Mirabella. They are bound on a light rail, deep beneath the desert wastes on a journey to who knows where? If you think this is akin to the Coalitions’ climate policy you’d be wrong, because as we all know like the sanity clause in the Marx brothers ‘Go West’, you’ve gotta believe in Sanity Claus in the first place. 

Old lady being tasered for walking across the road in an area not controlled by zebra crossing or traffic lights.

Imperilled, imprisoned, and disheartened by the fact that all of Victoria’s finest will soon be equipped with tasers to electrocute and stun citizens for jay-walking and language non respecting to the uniform, we know that there is no short fix.  When the police are all equipped to injure, stun and render immobile citizens for processing by the criminal justice system at whim we know that their ordeal may only just be beginning. Hard lines for those determined to seek justice, but comforting still that for those who seek compensation for injustice from august institutions, parliament, the churches and the police should have to fight for their right to be heard. Which is a good thing because it ensures respect for those institutions. And as our old friends Vlad and Xi tell us, ‘you cant have respect without fear’. Its axiomatic, fear keeps the troublemakers in their place. 

So spare  a thought for Tudgey who launched robo-debt and scorn for his former secretary who squealed.  Institutions loathe squealers and troublemakers.  They’re a nuisance and upset  the very foundation of a righteous, and respectable establishment. Without these levers we are doomed to informed conversation and the principles of universal participation and egality. And that’s bad for the triple bottom line, of the three wise men, Jesus, God and gift-bearers who have undeclared assets and the power of tasers. Confused yet? You will be as we return to our saga

Vic Police Children’s crossing supervisory group, (VPCCSG) ready to assess Working with Children certification of Santa.

Ces and Quent, became mesmerised by the shimmering light that glimmered ahead of the conveyance. Quent nudged Ces;  ‘You’d think Ces if it were a firefly it’s  a bit far-fetched down here in a tunnel to who knows where? I mean you’d think there’d be a few more of em, for what would be the point of Fire- flying if there was no other Firefly to Firefly to’?

‘You’ve gotta point there Quent, and if it were a mechanical device, it moves with such singularity, it couldn’t have been invented way back in the fifties when this underground rail network was crafted. Perhaps it’s a drone or even a small pilotless craft? 

New immigration processing facility portal design, (focus groups determined that “arbeit macht frei’ was inappropriate for non german speaking inductees).

Preparations for the St Basils Christmas Party came to a bit of a Dead-End.

Hmmm,  our two heroes reflected upon this astro-physically challenging phenomenon as the little tram they were bound to under the ever watchful eye of Sophie, (MP 40 in hand) and ‘Benny Boy’ Roberts-Smith, arguably Australia’s most noble and decorated soldier sat glumly behind them. Like the brake-man on the Scenic railway at Luna Park, the only difference being, this was not ‘Just for Fun’!

“Whatever it is it just keeps at the same distance, and though we seem to be travelling at a constant speed, were no closer to it! Do you think down here it could be like the proverbial gravitational wave?’, proffered Quent. ‘Suppose’, replied Ces scratching his chin in deep thought, ‘according to Einsteins theorem, down here with no influence of wind, atmospheric disturbance or even tectonic movement it might be just like St Elmos fire, a sort of reflection of ourselves in the shape of charged ions induced to dance upon the rail before us like a ghostly apparition? Like the coalition climate policy, with no rhyme nor reason, but presented to us in the temporal world as something real, when it is just a trick of the eyes and the mind’. 

Is it a trick in the mind? 

Tudgey’s secretary got into huge trouble deservedly for squealing after the Christmas Cocktail function.’ If she’d squealed and jay walked in Victoria she could’ve been tasered’, (Tudgey)

Is it the last trick to be played by our courageous duo? Find out in the next tangentially Yule-tide- ish episode. ‘Santa never made it to the St Basils Christmas party” or….We used to truncheon you and handcuff you, but tasers are much more fun and give zap to any post Christmas Cocktail Party goer who jaywalks without an official exemption”.

First Opium War 1842. locals demonstrate fierce resistance to opening of “Jolly Jack Tar” fast food outlet in Hong Kong. ( ‘Jolly Jacks promised G.F, Bio-dynamic and Vegan sourced foods with traces of Imperialism”

Dear reader we return to the scene of the crime unfolding before our very eyes. No!! It’s not the pork barreling on an Industrial scale into Coalition seats and oily donations greased before the up-coming Federal Election.  It’s back to main game, Ces and Quent, held hostage by Australia’s most powerful woman Sophie, “Is that a knuckleduster in my pocket?” Mirabella. 

Sophie’s got em where it hurts most, deep down beneath the desert wastes of Maralinga, on a train to who knows where, driven by a bloke called Terry with Australia’s most decorated soldier ‘Benny Boy’ Roberts Smith. Are they slotted for oblivion, or just tossing up who takes the place of their defiled Tea-lady Mrs Culthorpe after her stint as a parliamentary intern? With more twists and turns than the Obeid Family’s real estate interests we anticipate a climax or at the very least a puff of smoke! Whatever happens it’s hold onto everything and keep your wits about you… read on…

Australia will be there! Unofficial detatchment of Australian SAS troops (on leave from Afghanistan) defend Imperial honour against pyjama clad Chinese mercenaries. (‘The Pyjama Game’, AWM Official History).

Sophie wanted even more than Money, Power and EVERYTHING! 

Terry was relaying her ambition for global domination with some bloke called Xi and the fact that China was getting ‘uppity’. As a consequence of getting uppity it posed an existential threat that not even Opium could cure. Whichever way you look at it, Australia was gonna spend big on second rate materiel from our greatest ally the U.S. Rather that than do the unthinkable, develop our own distinctive foreign policy, which at the end of the day would be “ UN-AUSTRALIAN”!

Terry continued with his soliloquy about China and why we should be FEARFUL!

H.M.S Brexit demonstrates efficacy of ‘John Bull’s Bully-Beef extract” upon the untried digestive system of Hong Kong natives.

‘Everything’?  ‘Yeah pretty much and that’s why Sophie, like a blowfly to a carcass is drawn to it. And I suppose that’s what got Angus going about the Murray Darling. If we don’t secure our natural assets for members of Angus’s extended family and the rest for Gina and Clive the Chinese are gong to get their filthy hands on it. And the worst bit is they won’t be spending the profits on the Cayman islands, luxury yachts and bolt-holes in London and Paris, but in a place where there’s not even a trickle down effect for real estate agents and hedge fund managers. And that’s in Beijing. If the capital goes to Beijing we’re buggered. Our Capital might as well close down. No trickle down effect. No High- Flyer gaming lounge at CROWN. No Christmas bonus. Not even a dead cat bounce!! 

Chinese diplomacy no match for imperial tartan leggings and monocle, De-rigeur for Foreign office secretaries.

Just then as Terry explained to Ces the intricacy of global power, economics and strategic assets, the tram, (because for all intents and purposes it was a light rail system) illuminated a cat frozen in the headlights just long enough before it was rolled over by the conveyance. Clearly the weight of the vehicle engineered to carry nuclear devices and other valued defence equipment withstood the shock, and there was barely a murmur. 

‘That was a dead cat bounce’, Terry reassured us….’as far as the Australian economy is concerned that’s about as much give we’re gonna get if China has its way’. 

International union of colonial troops sent to stop Chinese from being ” Uppity” Boxer Bebellion 1901.

For Boxer prisoners, a free hair-cut overseen by Imperial troops

By this stage our concept of time had diminished and in the gloom we had no idea how fast, how far, or to which direction we were going.  It was a real Coalition climate policy vehicle and all awhile we could just see the outline of Sophie sitting behind the driver, and the muzzle of her MP40 cocked and ready. We could see her whispering to the linesman, and as she pointed to the odd protuberance in the gloom we could dimly see ahead a light. ‘Perhaps that’s the way out’? Ces whispered. ‘It’s hard to tell as it doesn’t grow. It just keeps at the same relative illumination, almost as if the light was glowing and moving at the same speed….. with us’…. 

‘Very odd’, Ces murmured, ‘what do you think’?

‘I dunno, it’s either something following us, or leading us on? Could either be a fire-fly or perhaps another tram’? 

Sophie and the linesman had noticed it and from Ben, no reaction. 

Imperial Japanese Army sets up first fast food outlet Nanjing 1937. The locals are desperate to get a franchise.

Is this the fork in the road? Or the turntable to another destiny? Find out in the next rail-ish episode, “ ‘Two tracks to Tango Foxtrot’ or “ A signal box is not all that different to Pandora’s box, and who is Pandora anyway?