Will we ever know who stumped up the cash for Christian’s legal fees?

Dear reader we return to the crisis facing our heroes, stuck deep down and dicing with death and no un-seen donor as befits our former Attorney General to lift them out of the existential crisis, of graft, corruption, vice, and just another day of standardised and acceptable corruption in our feral, ( was to be Federal, but feral seemed more apt as a descriptor) parliament. As you. may recall,  Sophie was desperate to stop the nukes from going off, whilst Ces and Quent tried to find a way out that didn’t blow them all to smithereens. The saga continues….

 ‘But what’s that got to do with us’? Ces asked

Sophie replied with all the casuistry and skill as befits a former legal practitioner “Well technically, at Maralinga, you’re in a theatre of war’,

‘This is all sounding a bit theatre to tell you the truth’,

‘Life IS theatre, I should know’! Sophie guffawed, 

But first things first, Stop the fucking ticking. 

Why couldn’t anyone in parliament stump up cash to pursue the penis- weilding oppressor who so cruelly defiled Ms.Culthorpe?

It was cathartic, there we were laughing at the ridiculousness of being lined up for a Queens Birthday honours as we were about to be blown to smithereens, and our get out of jail card before us, just to stop the ticking.

Ces had one last question; “Will our OAM be a higher tier one than just the average, Cos a lot of people just get em for doing their job, and de- fusing nukes was never on our job description’?

‘Yes anything you bloody want, I’ll jump to it and see you get the same one that was given to other great Australians, Dyson Heydon, Sir Rolf….. Ron Brierley etc’, ( the list was endless, once again Sophie captivated us with her capacity to memorise minor details, in this she was in perfect sync with the P.M for Sydney who was all over little things and short on the bigger picture)

‘Oh, Quent pipped in, ‘Can I  have a DSO and an M.C with Bar on top for services to Manufacturing’? 

‘Yes anything, just stop the bloody ticking’. 

Allright then, but the ticking all of sudden got louder, 

Does Scomo know anyting about it? Wisely, he’s hand- balled responsibility to his mate Phil. That’ll bury it!

‘We have to shake on it’, Ces demurred.

‘We haven’t got time’! Sophie bellowed, and then grabbing the AK47 from around Benny-boys shoulder, the same one with the electrical tape that had been used at Tarin Kowt, she levelled it at us, ‘I’ll blow you to bits unless you stop the ticking’, 

‘Makes no difference we’re stuffed anyway, you’ve gotta shake’, 

‘Allright then’, Sophie proffered her pudgy hand, and we shook, ‘NOW FIX IT’!

Could Her Majesty have chipped in? She’s looking after Andrew’s legal issues.

The ticking grew louder, there was a dull methodical certainty about it, and as Ces and I inspected the shell, we noticed an inspection chamber. We unscrewed it gingerly and looked inside, it was a clockwork mechanism, and the word ‘Smith’s’, famous for clock-ware anywhere in the Empire gleamed back at us. But disturbingly, we noticed the impeller, was dangerously close to what looked like the detonator, and the screw shaft that rotated was pushing it dangerously close. We knew in that instant we only had minutes, and there was no simple way of de-fusing the device with just a Philips screw driver, and a bottle opener, the only tools we had. Benny-boy was no use, though his back-pack bulged with rifle-grenades, tear gas, sub machine guns, claymores, 3 inch and 2 inch mortar cartridges and a belt or two of 50 calibre, there was nothing that could be used to stop the clock. 

Sophie was by this stage inconsolate, ‘Hurry, this is your last chance’ . 

Ces looked closely at the clock-works and breathed an audible sigh, “ it’s got above it, in plain english, ‘This nuclear clock is powered by Lucas electrics’! We may yet see light when all else is deathly dark’! 

Barnaby and the Coal lobby?

Ces and I perspiring with the inevitable, gave each other a reassuring hug, and searching for inspiration, benediction, even the spirit of Bob Santamaria was not gonna help us in this, the  last few moments, till catching his eye, Ces noticed a dull glint of glass in the corner, behind one of the nuke cradles. There was just a chance, a small one , but then the only one worth taking. Pointing to the bottles I rushed over, and sure enough, left over from the fifties a half drunk flagon of McWilliams cream sherry, a bottle of Purple Para and a dusty bottle of Blue Nun. Flipping the corks, and wiping the top of the dusty bottles Ces shouted ay the top of his voice, to Benny and I , “Fer  fucks sakes Drink, and drink as fast as you can, and when I tell you, do exactly as I ask’…..

Or Gina? These Westralians can be cliquey in case you didn’t know.

What has Ces in mind? Will-it be enough to stave off nuclear obliteration? Will it be last drinks at the pub beyond the black stump? Or will it lead to the last big Wee of the Never Never? Find out in the next compelling episode, ‘Too late to tango’?, or  “Tango foxtrot and we’ll all be Charlie’s’.