The Prince, held the hilt of his sword, and  bellowed; ‘unless smote, this power will DESTROY EVERYTHING’!

Dear reader, we start again were we left off, the Prince informing our colleagues of the depth of his imperial reach, and the destiny that he holds in his hands! The priceless and all- powerful element Victorianinium, named in honour of his most famous relative who’s light shines in all eternity upon the coloured peoples of this word as a beatific anointment of civilisation. What else does he hold in his hands? Stand avast and wait for this next palpitating piece of predestidiginacious perfidy….

The Prince, beamed at Clarrie, ‘and that brave Knight, you have done with aplomb’. 

‘But’……. Ces said; ‘what if evil powers get their hands on this piece of paper? The lights will go out all over Europe’!  The Prince, held the hilt of his sword, and  bellowed; ‘unless smote, this power will DESTROY EVERYTHING’!

The room went dark again, and we all paused, thinking that in spite of the most surreal circumstances, life had given us another chance to make a principled stand, as we tried at Tuvalu. Perhaps now we could right the wrong and allow reason to triumph over petty self interest?

We could prove climate change and reach out to our own constituency of very old delusional fundamentalist hypocritical white men, and thus achieve SALVATION!

Perhaps now we had an opportunity to once again, attend a World Leaders Summit and carry our celebrated float, the papier mache island made of ice in the kiddies paddling pool? 

‘Hush’, the Prince motioned, ‘that was just a ruse.

And perhaps this time, with an island made of pre-cast concrete, impregnated with sugar, and hydrochloric acid (this was Cec’s idea) we could have a very realistic model depicting the actual disintegration of all life, land and everything in one spectacular seething maelstrom. To present at a World leaders Summit and grab global attention into a sinking island just going up in a conflagratory POOF! Just to prove our point, that climate change is an existential crisis, and  Greta Thunburg is a confounded nuisance. We could prove climate change and reach out to our own constituency of very old delusional fundamentalist hypocritical white men, and thus achieve SALVATION!  The Prince, rather than being an object of ridicule had now become our Elder Statesman. A Prince with international connections at the very highest level. Our lightning rod. Our annointed sepulchural Vice-Regal mace.  To open up via the imperial panoply of dvine right, and  allow the world to see the light.  To realise, the perfidy of their pettiness.    WE all stood hushed, galvanised by the potential of this new element and what it could do for HUMANITY!

“Excuse me? Prince, er’, Ces corrected, ‘Your Royal Highness,  how come you were entrusted with this responsibility?  We thought you were too busy shagging with your socialite mates in New York and keeping Fergie from the headlines’, 

‘Hush’, the Prince motioned, ‘that was just a ruse. A clever ruse devised by MI5 so that no one would suspect. Not even Vladimir, that  I the “Royal Buffoon’, would be capable of such global reach, and our enemies”.  The Prince paused, pulled out in one deft movement his solid gold cigarette case, without offering any of us as much as a fag- end he whipped a Sobrani out and lit it… Drawing long and langerously, he then tilted his head upwards to allow an exalted plume of smoke to come issuing from his vice regal lips.  The same lips that had caressed the aforementioned Fergie. Those same lips that had licked and touched the nubile, ( in the interests of public decency and royal prerogative this part of the text has been censored. If you should like a copy of the unedited text please refer to The  “presidential privates”, the indebted, unpublished extract from the Clinton Papers).   The Prince turned to us, in a extasy of wisdom, 

“What happens to clever Princes? You know’.  And like Ka-Ching when. confronted with the image of ‘Winnie the Pooh’, the Prince motioned a knife across his throat. 

The Prince pulled out a bottle of Dom Perignon 38. “TO OUR QUEST!!”, the Prince Roared.

‘I get it’!  Ces wryly scoffed. “You’d be as welcome as  a bloody pork chop in the proverbial bloody synagogue, or a Royal Dunny without a Royal flush, beggin yer pardon your Highness’.  We all laughed; Cec never lost his humour even in a royal scrape.   He pointed to a map in which all the bits of Empire not coloured roseate pink were marked, “ EVIL”, the Prince, clutching the scabbard of his ceremonial sword glowered;  “They shall learn to their cost, that the might of Britannia, is not stemmed by the perfidy of neo-globalism”!!

We all sighed, and before you could say; “Anyone for tennis”? The Prince pulled out a bottle of Dom Perignon 38. “TO OUR QUEST!!”, the Prince Roared. 

‘THE QUEST’, we all cried, 

proffering a Boys Scout salute whilst holding out his right hand, and grinning from ear to ear, announced, “At your SERVICE your Royal Highness’!

And just as we raised our glasses, savouring the first whaft, we heard a shuffling sound from behind the map.  To our amazement, rather apologetically emerged  Ka-Ching holding a bag, of all things chips.  ‘What the eff roared Clarrie, the secret’s out’! No sooner than the knighted veteran had said it, something more shocking still, took place before our very eyes… Emerging from behind the sail cloth stashed rudely in a pile in the corner of the room,  none other than the former Foreign Minister of Australia Alexander Downer.

He wiped the dust from his shoulders and knelt before his highness, “Your Majesty” , 

The Prince turned about, his face ashen: “IT’S YOU’!

The former Foreign Minister stood bolt upright, and proffering a Boys Scout salute whilst holding out his right hand, and grinning from ear to ear, announced, “At your SERVICE your Royal Highness’!

The Prince was stunned. He looked as though he were about to EXPLODE.

‘Get out of my shadow you.. you…. you, YOU PATHETIC LITTLE CREEP!!’, 

The Prince then fulminated…

‘There’s one thing I can’t stand is a TOADEY’. 

And then just for effect he fulminated; “A royal toadying arse-licking SUCK-HOLE”!

Downer, slid sideways pretending he hadn’t heard. 

‘So sorry, just checklng the wiring’,  he mumbled as he probed the dusty floor.

Downer, slid sideways pretending he hadn’t heard.  ‘So sorry, just checklng the wiring’,

There was a deathly silence, the game was up, we had been eavesdropped, and we could only just grasp at the trouble we now found ourselves in. 

To be continued

What will happen? 

Will Alexander come up trumps or will Ka-ching cash in his chips? 

Will he do so in Mandarin or in Cantonese?

What is the Cantonese for Hong Kong bookseller?

Find out inthe next nail-biting epsode of

‘A bookseller short of a literary festival’  or… 

‘A Downer in the scheme of things’.. 

In our next thrilling installment of pcbycp’s 

Cocburn and Poole…

We all stood hushed as he once again twirled his ceremonial sword above our heads, Ces whispering: “I wonder if it’s fake”

Dear reader, we left where we left off, the Prince, recently installed as GG to PNG, by virtue of the absence of an extradition treaty with PNG, the Bahamas, The U.K or the United States, is pounding the wall as he tells our desperate band of just how the worlds destiny is held in his very hand, via a scrap of paper, via right of royal birth, by imperial destiny, by the grace of God,  blah, blah, blah. Will the discovery of this new element Victorianinium Change the WORLD?

Read on , and do so at your RISK!

“Precisely”! The Prince pounded the wall with his fist, 

“And that”?, Ces countered,   ‘Is that why  we are all here in this’?, He paused; “this….stinking shit hole..Cos we’ve been shafted from arsehole to breakfast by Borderforce and the powers to be. We might as well be Sri Lankans for all the good it does us’? 

“Silence’!, The Prince Exclaimed

‘The powers to be be are NOTHING! 

ALL OF THEM”!  We all stood hushed as he once again twirled his ceremonial sword above our heads, Ces whispering: “I wonder if it’s fake”. But the Prince in this gloom filled hour of glory would not be stemmed, he was in full Majestic Flight, a putative ‘King in a Grass, corrugated iron, and clap-board castle’. He thunderously continued his vice- regal monologue:

“To the Ministers who subjugate the soul of humanity in Detention Centres to the pecksniff, who works the robo-debt at Centrelink. All of THEM act on MY COMMAND!!

You are here, as you so aptly described, “in this Shit-Hole’!

The Prince in happier days, discusses pan global strategy with his loyal followers.

Because I COMMAND  you  BE HERE’! 

‘Fuck me’, Ces said, “told you.. it’s Right Royal  fuckin Command Performance’l 

I spite of our situation we all pissed ourselves laughing, the Prince, to prove he wasn’t such a bad sport had a chuckle to show he at least had a bit of empathy…. 

‘Still’, Ces reflected,’ it’s  pretty shithouse if you ask me, what’s Royal about this performance? There’s no dwarf tossing, and where’s the chinless wonder.’?. 

Prince Edward (undisputed world leader) explains to this young man his guitar may not be purchased with the Basics Card

‘My brother Edward could not attend, he’s on high level secret talks with Russia’, the Prince replied distractedly. 

‘Russia’? Ces countered. “I’ll be fucked, you in with them also”?

‘Yes we have operatives, relatives of the Romanovs, who are allied to me’ …. He paused for extra effect;  ‘BY BIRTH’!

But it was too late, in a split second, the Prince, until now who had been conversational became maniacal.. “This my friends is only the beginning, only you can know is it the beginning of the end of the begining of the beginning’. 

‘Jeez’, Ces interjected, ‘whichever way you look at it we’re fucked’. . 

than beat themselves to death over nationalism and any other form of priapic, narcissistic, mind numbingly stupid fragment of incoherent self indulgence’!!

The Prince in full flight, could not be swayed… ‘Don’t you see, Brexit would cease to exist, Trump would retreat to his share portfolio, and any other tin-pot potentate, would be more inclined to listen to Shakespeare or Bach, than beat themselves to death over nationalism and any other form of priapic, narcissistic, mind numbingly stupid fragment of incoherent self indulgence’!!

This not only holds the key to the location of where Victorianinium may be found, kept secret throughout the  Battenberg descendancy, it also” in the wrong hands” could provoke immeasurable evil. “What’? Ces interjected, ‘worse than bunging us in this hole’. 

The Prince scoffed, “You fool, cant you see!!! this hole is your escape mechanism. And it was my great uncle Lord Louis, whilst Viceroy gave this box to Sir Clarence here, and he’s kept it’s existence royally hid, until royally bid. We all had a laugh.  Had no idea still what the Prince did for a living but we still laughed, he had a royal sense of humour. 

 ‘unless smote, this power will DESTROY EVERYTHING’!

Clarrie shuffled uneasily, The Prince is right fellas, I don’t wanna tell you as you’d think I was all hoity toity but I’ve fuck’n mixed in royal circles before…  I met Lord Louis KC OBE VC MC (and Bar) in a Turkish bath on leave in Mauritius, and through a mutual acquaintance, I was invested with the secret to hold and only reveal in the event of with my death or an order from above to relinquish my responsibility. 

The Prince, beamed at Clarrie; ‘and that brave knight, you have done with aplomb’. 

‘But’, Ces said, ‘what if evil powers get their hands on this piece of paper, The lights wil go out all over Europe’!  The Prince, held the hilt of his sword, and  bellowed; ‘unless smote, this power will DESTROY EVERYTHING’!

to be Vice-Regally continued

What will happen to our Heroes? Will they escape New Guinea?

Does the Prince have a hand in their destiny? Stay tuned to the next vice-regal  episode.

‘One Prince lights up a Viscount”, or ‘Two dobs in, and you’re out!!’. 

Find out in our next thrilling installment of pcbycp in Moresby.

Your payments will be subject to our principled stand on poverty.

We aplaud the Nationals decision to widen the scope of the Basics Card. The Basics Card must be acknowledged as a HIGH WATER MARK in the Federal Governments recognition of Aboriginal Australians existence as a Human Species. (see Flora and Fauna Act). It is HIGH TIME then we recognised Dole bludgers, Druggo’s, and the incapacitated as a species of humanity deserving of SPECIAL RECOGNITION. And they can have FACIAL RECOGNITION entirely for FREE! For them, to coin Fraser Anning’s words, this must be addressed as a FINAL SOLUTION!

Some bludgers never learn to be grateful!

For too long non-aboriginal members of this society have not enjoyed the full benefits that come with the Basics Card. And we must also endorse the excellent decision by Jackie Lambie to introduce a form of National Service. So that the indolent may shoulder a Fire Hose and fight fires.  Fires that proliferate all year round as an objective proof that Anthropomorphic Climate Change DOES NOT EXIST!

Hard working principled men of GOD know where taxpayers money should be spent.

With an augmented Basics Card as sensibly suggested by Nationals, we can fully ensure that those that receive just  one cent of government money through laziness, indolence, and stupidity are fully accountable. Their entitlement and lifestyle choices will come with CONSEQUENCES!  Remember they’re poor because they have been given their just desserts for being lazy. And furthermore those people in rural electorates who have no work in electorates that are predominately National should be punished for not being wealthy landowners, conglomerates or hand picked water resource-rich cotton growers. They deserve through their indolence and their inability to get onto the ‘agribusiness ladder of prospertity’ to be punished.  So that hedge fund managers and global investors can fully reap the benefits of Australia’s water resources. And  in the entropy of their self absorption, they should be doubly punished and taken off any form of public support whatsoever. If they’ve had a joint. Perhaps indulged in a bit too much aspirin.  Or “God forbid”, done some speed, crack or meth. They shall be taken off the Basics Card, and left to rot. Cos as we know all the wealthier folk choose high grade cocaine. Perhaps even some of the water license holders, those hedge fund managers, who’ve driven those lazy non economically viable farmers, and township proleteriat off the land. They may smoke but they chose high grade COKE! Cos the Real Thing is COKE!

Retribution of this kind will do Basics Card holders good. By putting them on the Basics Card, they may learn penitence and HUMILITY! So that they can be stigmatised in the shopping centre aisle for being a “WHITE ABO’!.  It will make them realise that they too are responsible not just to the taxpayer, but to an all pervasive Loving God, who will punish them for THEIR OWN GOOD.

We have a few other helpful suggestons: 

To ensure that Women are controlled by OLD WHITE MEN

Basics for Food

Only generic, black and white brand, or Aldi branded products may be purchased. Strict prohibition of low price Aldi alcohol will be enforced. Non compliance will result in fines and imprisonment.

Basics For Transport

No petrol for dole bludgers. Those in rural areas, without trains will be entitled to board entirely at  cost covered by their Basics Card for one ride to a job resource centre, or Centrelink evaluation meeting.  . 

Basics For Health 

Basics Card Holders wil be entitled to one bulk bill fee per annum.  They will also pay additional costs for elective surgery, wait at the back of the queue, to instil respect for the system that sustains them. 

Basics To Stop Abortion. 

Any individual who criminally seeks an abortion in New South Wales or Queensland, will have any entitlement to government support cut indefinitely. This will reinforce the christian value of redemption and assure them entry to the word of patriarchy as enshrined by a loving and caring GOD! 

So that they may respect AUSTRALIAN VALUES!

As a postscript CEO Salaries shall be augmented to offset the costs of training and enforcing these neccessary measures. “So that the poor and indolent may aspire to loftier things”.(Quote atributed to an airliner CEO).

Dear reader, we’re deeply confused here at pcbycp headquarters. Not only are we still stuck here in this cell in the middle of Port Moresby, but our native runner, has pissed off to commemorate Robert Mugabe’s death. As the pre- Brexit Prince Andrew glumly put it, ‘ ‘hard to get the right sort of native these days’. 

True Liberals celebrate the “correct” use of fund raising and poetry.

We’re doubly confused that Gladys Liu hasn’t come to our rescue, and implore all the members of  the Chisholm Liberal fund raising arm whom we paid quite handsomely in promissory notes co-signed by His Royal Highness Prince Andrew, to come to our aid. Whichever way you look at it legal tender  signed by his Royal Highness will open doors anywhere. 

So in a pan Sino – Australian friendship gesture to whoever it is that is ultimately responsible for sending those rivers of gold Glady’s way, and seal it with a handshake and a G day, we thought it timely, in a historical sense to give you this one from Ogden Nash. He was also puzzled by Sino American relations prior to the  introduction of the 38th Parrallel

Maurice Sendak’s original illustration to Ogden’s Poem.

His ditty is entitled, “So I resigned from the Chu Chin Chowder and Marching Club”. We in sympathy tried to resign from the Higgins 500 Club, but discovered to our distaste, that as we were already signed up members of the United Front Work Department, (we had no idea we were part of this august institution)  our organs had already been auctioned off, and proceeeds were to be delivered to Uighurstan for processing just as soon as the paperwork had been completed. 

So courageoulsy we’ve decided to stay. 

We stayed for one other important reason, to ensure after a sensible suggestion made to us from Glady’s fund raising arm.  That the Liberal Party heraldry be replaced from Royal Blue to a more Middle Kingdom DEEP RED. To symbolise truly the benefits of ensuring funding to keep the germ of democracy alive…. For the right price to lobbysists, and the powers invested by the people to  Real Estate Agents; the traditional owners……(cross out Tibet, Uighurstan, and Hong Kong), Insert.  (Australia);. Of this land. 

So I resigned from the Chu Chin  Chowder and Marching Club.

The thing which I know least
Is the inscrutable East. 
Neither is my ignorance immutable, 
I find that every hour the East grows more inscrutable.
Day by day
I memorise pithy witticisms beginning ‘Confucious say”
I retire to leafy bowers
And immerse myself in Kai-Lung’s Golden Hours
In the evening I beat assiduously on a gong,
Picking out “ Slow Boat to China” and “ Why did I tell you I was going to Shanghai?’ And “ ‘Chong he come from Hong Kong’.
In a valiant effort the inscrutable Oriental mind to explore
I have lost a fortune at mah-jongg to an inscrutable
Pekingese puppy who lives next door,
All to no avail;
Scrutably speaking, I am beyond the pale.
I have only one accomplishment about which I would write home to Mother:
I can tell at least one Celestial from at least one other;
I can tell you, for a modest price, 
The difference between a mandarin waving his hat over a prostrate palanquin bearer 
and a mandarin sitting on a cake of ice.
Do you want to know, really and truly?

Well, the first mandarin is fanning his coolie.

Scott instructing Gladys on the finer points of fund-raising.

The first time they met. Lord Louis and Clarrie in Port Moresby 1945.

Dear reader, we continue where we left off, the Prince as GG of PNG making a startling pronouncement that an ancient secret treaty, buried deep within the New Guinean Highlands holds the truth and might of two great empires together, so that united, they may protect any would be aggressors from the threat of “cosmopolitanism and climate action”. Read this next thrilling instalment…. IF YOU DARE!…

We begin….

The tempo of percussive beating on Clarries iron lung increased in sync to the Prince’s intense soliloquy. “The natives know when to ARISE at a given signal.  And proclaim once again, (for their own good) Anglo German sovereignty and the rule of Right and MIGHT”!

Lord Louis renews an old acquaintance

Ces, always the republican wouldn’t have a bar of it; ’Might as well dream your Royal lordship.You and yer flash sword, with scrambled eggs all over yer epaluettes’. Ces’s republican sentiments were aroused by this display of royal  entitlement.  

But the Prince, in his hour of Glory would not be dissuaded, ‘ BY MIGHT!!  He raised his sword in the air twirling it at an errant fly to demonstrate his divine right of kingliness, “As you so disparagingly say, BY THIS!!! The Prince flourished the dirty piece of paper in the air… “By a power more destructive than the force of an ATOMIC BOMB!!!! 

Pause….

The flagship of the Anglo German scientific expedition, the specially fitted Grosser Echte Fruchte Ersatz Kurfurst Kafeemaschine.

The Prince smashed his gloved fist into the palm of his left hand. “And the knowledge of this rarest of rare element has been entrusted to one amongst us. The holder of the sacred secret. The knight errant of our most second-darkest hour. Sir Clarence of the Cinque Sports’. 

“It’s true’,  Clarrie beamed, ‘I can play petanque, frisbee, shuttlecock, scrabble and one-legged hop’. 

What could that be? Shrugged Ces wryly. “Who the eff are you!!!! And by what authority you titular toadeying twerp’!

“Hang on”! Clarrie said,  “I served with Lord Mountbatten in India”. 

Lord Louis suffers constipation whilst dividing India

Clarrie with a nod from the Prince then proceeded to tell his tale: 

‘This contains the location of the only known deposit of  Victorianinium. It was discovered in 1898 as part of a highly secretive Anglo German scientific expedition on the specially fitted Grosser Echte Fruchte Ersatz Kurfurst. An equivalent to the Cook expedition in its broad reach and the scientific,engineering,  anthropological and paleantological luminaries who were encouraged to participate. Deep in the Highlands we discovered amongst the natives a lone Portugean trader, Manuel Jesualdo Gusmao. He purported to be over three hundred years old, How he got there we don’t know. But before he was encouraged to die, he gave us the first fragment of this precious mineral. In seconds its potential was revealed.  Men grown old before their time re-gained a youthful exuberance. The crippled just after the briefest exposure would abandon their crutches,and perform superlative athletic feats,  and the very most dim-witted amongst the crew, when exposed to just one micron, were re-posessed with phenomenal mental powers. WE knew that this element could transform the world. But we also knew, that in the wrong hands it could DESTROY THE VERY WORLD WE LIVE IN” 

Prince Andrew weighs up the possibilities of becoming GG of PNG

“Why’s that”? Ces wryly replied. The Prince in full flight would not be daunted. He motioned for Clarrie to be silent and continued,

“Because as you know elected politicans are quite stupid.  But with this material, and the projection of informed ideas, they could unite to destroy  the global economy, and the world itself”! 

Ces interjected; ’But how do you know about this Clarrie? You weren’t even born back in 1898’?  

Then,  quick as a flash Cec proffered;  ‘Who won the 1898 Grand Final’? and then without pause nor hesitation Clarrie responded, ‘Fitzroy’!, 

Prince Andrew Instructs Saudi Prince on the benefits of hereditary privilege, power and patriarchy.

He was right. All indicators pointed to Clarrie being way older than we hitherto believed. There was clearly a riddle in the sands, or to be more apposite, more tin than pot in the tropics. Clarrie continued; “I was a Midshipman aboard the light cruiser HMS Aboukir, I had just licked the element I have described.  I may look 90, but that was in my middle age. This substance, the merest whiff, has prolonged my life for over a century, and posessed me with wisdom enough to wrestle with global affairs, be an instrument of world power, and retain my job as the pcbycp typesetter’. 

‘Bugger me dead’, Ces replied, 

‘No, that was years ago, in Her Majestys Service’. 

The Prince interjected; ‘Dont you see,  Reason and intelligence will destroy the global power structure’. 

‘Hang on a mo your ladyship’,  Cec opined, “Aren’t they doing precisely that at this very moment in time?

To be continued

Fitzroy, Winners of the “98” Grand Final stand proudly. A gladiatorial contest won gloriously over the drug addicted team from ESSENDON.

What are they doing? will it really make a difference, and stem the insidious sweep of global warming?

Find out in our next thrilling instalment , “The Prince plays the Piper”, or, “Two Cans short of a Toucan” in our next Vice Regal edition of PCBYCP…

Trincomalee 1944. Lord Louis, the Prince’s uncle talks to Clarrie in happier Days

Dear reader, we return to where we left off, Clarrie, under Royal Command from none other than Prince Andrew, the newly installed GG of PNG, was about to lift the lid. On What?

Well tune in and find out in this next gut-wrenching episode of pcbycp’s failed bid to secure meaningful action on climate at the Pacific leaders Forum.. read on….

What was in the box?

Clarrie lifted the lid. 

Clarrie and Ces talk up Alexander Downers’ statesmanship.

In the dark light it was hard to see what lay inside. But with a weary rubbing of his right eye to focus on the task at hand, Clarrie gently lifted out a small scroll of age-worn paper. The scroll was bound with a crimson ribbon, and in the centre a wax seal. We all ghasped, what could this be? And why was Prince Andrew so keen for Clarrie to open the box himself? When as we all know, a Royal just grabs whatever he wants and buggers the consequences. 

With a deferential nod, Clarrie passed the scroll to his Royal Highness. The room became deathly still. Only the sound of the Rascol gang beating a deep and intense rhythm on Clarries un-sold Iron lung to permeate the stydgean gloom. 

The Prince raised the scroll, so that we could all see it. And the motif on the Seal was unmistakeable. An Eagle, with a crown, and on either side of the shield the words “Gott Mit Uns”, and the unmistakeable monogram W11. ‘Kaiser Bill’ muttered Ces.  The Prince, with reverential awe muttered; ‘another of my great Uncles’, and  allowed his index finger to caress the outline of the seal. He turned to all of us gravely, “This”… (he paused in the complete and utter absorption of the moment) ‘this fragment of paper is’…… he stuttered, ‘is…. my destiny”, and with a quick flick of his sword, which he raised and deftly lowered at the speed of lightning in a decisive arc,  the seal was rent asunder. 

Ces enjoying the vice- regal sunlight

We ghasped, (again) How could this be? How had it lain hidden here for countless decades? And to what purpose?

‘my great great uncle Prince Heinrich Ludwig Hedwig Earwig von Battenburg,’ ( Prince Andrew’s soliloquy)

Then the Prince spoke; “See!!!  It’s all here! Over a hundred and twenty years ago, my great great uncle Prince Heinrich Ludwig Hedwig Earwig von Battenburg, stopped briefly at the Governor’s Residence in Port Moresby.  A courtesy visit between what was then, German New Guinea and the Australian Protectorate of Papua. During the course of that visit he informed the Commandant that the interests of both the German and the British Empires were best served, (even in the event of war) in a long-term partnership to thwart any woud be agressor from the North. Within this parchment are the co-ordinates of where an element more valuable than Einsteininium lies. An element so powerful, so priceless  that the Anglo-German destiny shall endure, “UBER ALLES’!

Clarrie interjected wryly; ‘But why would you help out the Jerries’?, 

The Prince turned to Clarrie and with a face fit to explode thundered; “VY”? VY YOU ASK”? The Prince gathered himself,  ‘BECAUSE ZESE SAME PEOPLE ARE ALSO MEIN GERMANIC COUSINS’!

‘Oh’! Ces said phlegmatically, “yep. Spose you’re right”. 

The Prince regained his composure and continued; 

“And so the Germanic Anglo Regional South Eastern Hemisphere of Localised Engagement Treaty, (GARSEHOLE) was enacted. In top secrecy, to ensure that in the event of any war this treaty stood INVIOLATE, until such time it would be realised as  the SINGULAR PAN STRATEGIC GLOBAL POLICY! THE TIME HAS COME!! He flourished his sword in the air for added effect.  “My illustrious forebear came to this spot with a singular purpose.  To ensure that any future power, any would- be agressor, any impudent upstart not embracing the crimson thread of kinship that unites our two peoples who dare challenge our rule, our rightful place as masters over the  entire South Pacific WILL FAIL! 

Prince Heinrichs flagship, Die Ersatz Kurfürst Echte Schtenkentopf. In its heyday, the most powerful ship in the entire Pacific, (Janes)

‘By what’? Cec drolly asked, clearly he wasn’t having a bar of it; ‘You lot were kicked out of German New Guinea in 1914, why pretend it wasn’t all over then’?

‘You don’t understand’. The Prince poked the air with his sword for emphasis.  ‘That was just a ruse’! We have waited with natives trained in the principle of GARSEHOLE through generations . Passed down by word of mouth and drum. Even now you can hear’. 

We all listened. 

What will happen next? Will the Princes extensive global reach as an undisputed world leader save the crew at pcbycp?

OR… will they all perish?

Natives being enthusiastically trained by the German High Command, (South Pacific Territories) in the sacred meaning of GARSEHOLE

Stay tuned for another compelling episode of pcbycp,  “Who bangs the bongo drum’?, or “The Perils of pcbycp in Papua?

to be continued. ….

‘Special cells could be incorporated into the existing bicycle and baggage enclosures’.

Dear reader, we are deeply concerned about the trouble on the Bendigo Line. As frequent travellers on this particular route, we at PCBYCP have some pointers which may assist the coroner, in her findings. 

Train operative looks at potential of rear-fitting “worlds best practice” cells to existing bicycle and baggage storage enclosures on V Line trains.

Although the findings are not yet due, we would like to offer in the spirit of public interest some suggestions which, congniscent of the Deaths in Custody Royal Commisson may assist law makers and legislators in dealing with the problem of public drunkedness. We know as a consequence of the cited Royal Commission, though no  improvement in mortality has resulted, incarceration has sky-rocketed. Proof to a massive improvement in client handling. We are glad to say that handling procedures in police vans and utes have improved immeasurably. Though these improvements have not stemmed the deaths, we are mindful they point to a way forward in which police and correctional services officers can do their very best to arrest, transport and incarcerate those who are charged with the heinous crimes, of public drunkedness, jay walking, fare evasion, and failure to pay fines. Though we don’t wish to purposefully kill members of the indigenous community, we must remind them, that these arrests and incarcerations are made for their OWN GOOD!.  For PUBLIC SAFETY! To keep them off the streets and ensure they get the full benefit of being an Australian citizen elevated from the status of native flora.

Firstly let’s discuss the design of trains.  

Such visible incarceration, (though temporary) would reinforce as a warning to others the dangers of being drunk, putting ones feet on the seat, or talking loudly in a quiet carriage.

Special cells could be incorporated into the existing bicycle and baggage enclosures. With just the incorporation of hollow section tubular steel, we suggest a Cobalt  Blue or Burnt Umber, (reflective of native ritual)  powedercoat be employed to culturally accommodate Yorta Yorta sensibilities on this line. Similarly other tribal colours could be used on other regional lines. The baggage storage benches could be upgraded to hold perhaps as many as three indigenous passengers. Such visible incarceration, (though temporary) would reinforce as a warning to others the dangers of being drunk, putting one’s feet on the seat, or talking loudly in a quiet carriage. This would reinforce patterns of acceptable public behaviour and ensure the vast majority of passenger rights are protected. 

The design of cells

Such familiarity would both improve the handling prior to arrest and the despatch after incarceration of the body without undue collateral injury to the law enforcement authorities 

‘we suggest a maquette be studied’

WE would like to point out that the design of peep holes and apertures for viewing clients are inadequate.  WE would suggest in reference to the Institutional Child Abuse Royal Commission that better communications could be achieved either with a “cone of silence” or an ‘echo chamber’, in which the constabulary, invested with the responsibility of monitoring the health of “clients” are able to fully evaluate the standing, sitting, kneeling, or prone posture of an individual as a precursor to DEATH. We suggest a maquette, be studied, (as artists use to study the human form) so that some specific positions may be understood to suggest imminent mortality. Such familiarity would both improve the handling prior to arrest and the despatch after incarceration of the body without undue collateral injury to the law enforcement authorities in moving the corpse post-incarceration. Such knowledge would immeasurably improve, processing, health and safety offsets. 

Such knowledge would immeasurably improve health and safety offsets. 

Also we would reccommend, (we hope you are conversant wth the 1890 lunatic act) that cells be padded. Not with pigskin, and padded sawdust or horsehair in burlap sacking as in days of yore,  but perhaps some of the newer products employed in detention centres and re- education facilities in Uighurstan, Villawood and Manaus. Kapok infill rubberised matting or air-filled polypropylene, is much more suitably advantageous for those about to hit their head, strike themselves, or render themselves unconscious. Cells could also be fitted, with rubberised ceilings, (a suggestion that had been thoughtfully provided by the Queensland constabularly) to protects inmates who throw themselves in an upwards trajectory. We would also suggest, (as per the Day inquest) to address the  inherent danger in employing stainless steel toilets in the cell. One could inadvertently knock one’s head, and cause concussion, or in some cases fatal haemorrhaging.

We suggest in the interest of client and public safety that there be no toilet facilities, just washable and hoseable rubber-rock, as used in playgrounds. 

We suggest in the interest of client and public safety that there be no toilet facilities, just wash-able and hose-able rubber-rock, as used in playgrounds. 

WE hope these reccomendations will be received in good faith, and urge the criminal justice system to adopt them as “Paths to Progress” in the near future. 

Rolf on the job. A real Royal WAG!

Dear reader, we were to give you just this superb piece from former poet laureate to the Dis-United Kingdom Sir Rolf Harris. But we’ve been instructed to offer a diversion to assuage trenchant copyright and intellectual property issues. The poem alluded to in the exciting instalment of pcbycp’s August 30 edition, still resonates with the majesty of Royal preferment.  After recent events in the U.K we’ve felt beholden to give you only this first stanza as a taste, a presentiment, of the untapped potentialities of Harris at the peak of his POWERS. The  Magnum Opus of Harris. We asked the poet to reflect upon this superb piece of historical reconstruction  but he declined. His Press Secretary suggesting he is enjoying a retirement from public duties  “at her Majesty’s pleasure”. And well we may regard Her Majesty for retaining Sir Rolf by her side as the world quakes to its very foundations with insurrection and talk of revolution and the right for women to question the pre-eminent right of men to have ownership over their bodies, as ordained by a loving GOD

So here it is;

Two little Boys

Two little boys became two little toys

Each had a father called Risdale

Gaily they sat, the parish of East Ballarat

Till ones conscience failed him at 

Con-fess-ion-al

To awake with dread, in bed a horse’s head?

Wept for innocence lost, at such a cost

For he knew he was in….. Orig-i-nal Sin,

And no matter what he did, he could not be rid,

What crime did he commit?  His faith so strong omit?

For the  Church to hold its sway, to deftly look away, 

And blame, the victim.

Though likened to Coleridge’s unfinished masterpiece Xanadu, Harris’s work bespeaks of contemporary issues and it’s a tragedy that it was never properly finished. 

So content yourself with this other piece. A thoughtful reflection of the zeitgeist, of the Holy Geist, and the un-holy poltergeist …By Andy Partridge who used to head-up post punk band XTC.  And if you listen intently you may detect an unreasoned questioning of higher authority which doubtless led to the decline of Great Britain. Till rescued by Boris Johnson. 

Dear reader, we pause in the thrilling exploits of the pcbycp staff stranded in Port Moresby, to give you this fragment of illuminating insights from our luminary of the near north, Mr Joe Sexton Blake. We are indebted to Joe for keeping us up to date on reading material. It pays to have a book in hand to protect oneself from the taint of ignorance.  Lest some amongst us fall asleep on the Castlemaine train and are killed to protect public safety.

Back to you Joe, and (as an aside), when Joe chooses to travel to international destinations, (Shepparton, Euroa, and Seymour) he chooses the Albury line, to admire the gauge differential. It inspires him as a perpetual legacy to the small mindedness that makes our nation grate.

Australian Book Review, Indigenous Issue, August 2019, $12.95

Reviewed by Joe Blake

After 58 years and 412 monthly iterations, the ABR has finally produced an indigenous issue. It’s very welcome, especially because they plan to have one every year from now on. Not all articles are about indigenous books and arts, but the majority of the reviews, articles, poems and essays are; it’s a great read. One strong feature is that indigenous books are reviewed by indigenous writers; that doesn’t happen often in other, more commercially-focussed publications. I’m not suggesting the writing is below par to satisfy a politically-correct ethos; to the contrary, it’s uniformly brilliant.

This issue is a salute to the extraordinary blossoming of indigenous literary talent over the past few years, with articles by and about stars like Bruce Pascoe, Tara June Winch, Tony Birch, Stan Grant and Rachel Bin Salleh, publisher at Magabala Books, the groundbreaking indigenous press that has been pumping out high-quality stuff for nearly 40 years now. It doesn’t stop at the printed word, though; Deborah Cheetham writes of the epiphany that revealed to her 14-year-old self the world of opera that she later came to dominate.

One of the beauties of a magazine like this is that you can dip into a few different worlds in a couple of hours’ reading. There are scholarly articles alongside poems, personal reminiscences and Q&A interviews; books reviewed range from memoirs to novels to reflections on the state of our country’s soul. A very pertinent quote from one book sums up this country in a nutshell: “white Australia can’t solve black problems because white Australia is the problem.” 

One of the most interesting articles tells the story of Nah Doongh, who lived in the Penrith area of NSW for most of the 19^th century. That means she was born not long after invasion, and survived the depredations of white colonialism to a very ripe old age. The author cleverly intertwines the fragments of writings about her that still exist with a historian’s interpretations of what probably actually happened. We learn that those who recorded information of indigenous people usually put their own slant on what they were told; there was always an unconscious bias that distorted the real story. (Maybe Andrew Bolt had a great grandparent?)

As well as all the writing by and about Indigenous issues, a number of other books are reviewed, because ABR aims to look at everything worthwhile that’s been recently put out; it’s always a wonderful read. This issue announces the establishment of two fellowships, each worth $10,000: an Indigenous Fellowship and the Behrouz Boochani Fellowship. The recipients will each, in the next year, contribute three substantial articles to the magazine. It’s a leg up for people who don’t often get a chance to write about the areas close to their hearts, so it’s very welcome.

A very pertinent quote from one book sums up this country in a nutshell: “white Australia can’t solve black problems because white Australia is the problem.” 

You probably think that someone like me would be bound to like this magazine: a reviewer lauding others of the same ilk. I like to think it’s not that; anyone interested in issues, books, culture, ideas – life, in other words – will always be stimulated by ABR. If you can, get hold of a copy and read it cover to cover. Better still, subscribe.

Dear reader, if you’re still following this narrative, (Brexit- like), it still has a long way to go. 

“Bugger me dead”!, Clarrie said; “One moment I’m ready to kark it and next I’m an effing knight dubbed Sir Clarence by one of Europe’s greatest ever royal families”

Thus far we ‘ve thrilled to the brave pcbycp staff on their secret mission to tell the world about climate change at the Pacific Leaders summit.  How then, they were stuck on Tuvalu with sea levels arising all about. How they made a deal brokered by the omnipitent Sam Dastyari between the Tuvaluans and the Chinese Government. How, after landing in Australia they were  imprisoned, deported to Manaus island,  only to be re-released again on the wild and dangerous streets of Port Moresby 

A ” strong man ” now held the destiny of the Pacific in his BARE HAND!

As you remember, our final scene left Clarrie hanging onto life. With death knocking, when “out of the blue”, our Chinese surgeon friend Ka-Ching brokered a deal that put Prince Andrew on the throne as Her Majestys representative in PNG. And no  sooner than you can say “porogue parliament”, the Prince was on the job, bringing the hand of civilisation and the bonus of  Clarrie’s organs donated via  the obliging Uighurs underging re-education. 

And we also learned of how, spurned by the Australian government the New Guinean government had made the deal of a century with the Chinese who selflessly offered to build a space port, a twelve lane freeway, and a new Parliament House, bigger than the Great Wall itself. Then we learnt how we rejoiced in it all being made possible by the personal sacrifice of Prince Andrew, the intercession of Sam Dastyari and undisclosed forces. And yet, we knew that in spite of whetever we did, we were just pawns in a great global game of strategy. 

So let’s pick up where we left off, when a shadow fell across the room, as an image of Whinnie the Pooh was flourished by Ka-ching.  And the  realisation that once again,  we were in mortal danger. 

We didn’t have time to think. At that very moment a thunderous knock on the door announced someone had arrived. Once again, we knew the weight of the world rested upon our shoulders. 

The worlds destiny is in their safe hands. Prince Andrew discusses Global strategy with a friend.

Being unfamiliar with the pomp of governance, we were suprised to be greeted by none other than the beaming countenance of Prince Andrew himself. He was in his full ceremonial gear, and as he walked towards us his sword dragging across the floor. “Christ”, Clarrie, said, still groggy after having his organs replaced. “Am I dreaming”?. Clarrie took another drag on his ciggy and wiped his eyes;  “I feel like I’ve been here before”? And before he could light another Craven A the Prince bowed to him, and said with great solemnity, “Arise Sir Clarence”. And before you could say “Boris”, Clarrie ripped off is bandages, still with the drip attatched, and kneeled before him and supporting himself on the Princess lapel, he steadied hiself, with a new life and new purpose. “Bugger me dead”!, Clarrie said; “One moment I’m ready to kark it and next I’m an effing knight dubbed Sir Clarence by one of Europes greatest ever royal families”… And the Prince just smiled said; “I need not remind you Sir Clarence,  as it has been famously said, what goeth uppeth, must also goeth downwards, and hence uppeth again” .

The Prince, smiling, turned towards, us; “Clarence, you know we’ve been here before’. Clarrie wiped his eyes, the rollie still smouldering on the edge of this cracked and pearched lips, “This is your time” intoned the Prince with Royal Gravitas

And Clarrie, pointing to the wall, without hesitation, said, calmly, “it’s  right here your Highness”! 

And the Prince with a slight motion of his index finger, said, 

“The privelege is yours Sir Clarence”, 

Welcomed as a Demi-God by the natives

And with an agility belied by his ninety odd years Clarrie with a dexterity of grace, more precise than a Public Safety Officer ejecting a passenger on a Castlemaine train to  condemn that individual to a miserable death, prised the block from its lithic embrace… 

And there. In a dark crevice, left undisturbed for ages, rested a small box. 

“Open it”! Commanded the Prince. 

And Clarrie gently, and sensitively, released the catch.

And Opened it. 

What is inside the Box?

Did it belong to Pandora?

Will all of it glisten?

Stay tuned for our next impactful episode, tomorrow?

Bit till now, endure the suspense as you await the next spine tingling installment;

“Sir Clarence and the Casket”

“Or Prince Andrew’s other Royal Box” 

And with an agility belied by his ninety odd years Clarrie with a dexterity of grace, more precise than a Public Safety Officer ejecting a passenger on a Castlemaine train to  condemn that individual to a miserable death, prised the block from its lithic embrace…

Brought to you in vivid technicolour on PCBYCP.