Is there a Nazi in the house?

Some partnerships are made in heaven.

We’ve got problems in the Victorian Liberal party. We know that this readers in the leafier suburbs are seriously worried. Where once one could have a crack from Haverbrack, the nexus has shifted east to Narre Warren or worse. And, as we all know Narre Warren is Aboriginal for ‘no worries’! 

And we all know that when people say no worries its time to worry very seriously indeed. 

Some partnerships are dynamic, but often fraught.

Poised upon the precipice, perilously, implausibly and portentously, they await as Julian, the sickliest human alive summons his strength to take that one leap from the crown of the Sophie god deity to the sanctuary of a cave. A cave that leads to, (like our defence policy) who knows where?

And it begs the question, beyond bell marsh, has Julian done enough? Has he made a contribution to the fight against totalitarianism. By just being bunged up in the Ecuadorian Embassy, and now Bellmarsh, has he made enough of an impact to make world leaders think. If you’re an optimist, he surely has, but sadly in Albo’s Euphoria, we think that the issue of Julian, “ he’s not the messiah, he’s just a naughty boy’, may have fallen off the royal mantle. Something for the fabulously underpaid cleaning staff to gather after the coronation. And so amid royal splendour, not seen  since 1953, we return to our Saga.. 

‘Jump Julian, fer chrissakes it’s your only Hope’! Ces begged the sickly fellow.

Some partnerships are over and done with after the briefest of encounters.

Julian looked wanly at the leap. It was scarcely two metres and a bit lower than the crown on top of the Sophie Deity. But with his sickly frame withered by the brutality of solitary he just looked at us and stretched out a sickly pale nicotine finger. ‘I ca I ca… You’ve got to Julian, after all you’ve been through this is your chance! You can redeem yourself, and by facing off against the Windsor’s you’ll be acclaimed worldwide as a crime beater, a sage and a person most likely to be assassinated and in doing so achieve immortality. For the sake of all of us’! 

Some are sustained purely by a ‘Them and Us atttude’.

But it was in vain, Julian just smiled nonchalantly and stooping down upon the jagged rock, picked up the fag that had slipped through his flaccid fingers and just took a drag. ‘Well, that’s it. He’s buggered. We turned away, not wishing to see him impaled by the native spears which rained down upon us with a new intensity. But no sooner than we turned we heard an almighty thwack and the crumpled form of Julian landed just metres in front of us. ‘What the!  You didn’t think I’d leave me little mate alone’!Ben leaped the crevasse, and picked the lifeless form up like a toy doll. ‘He may yet come in handy, c’mon you lot , lets get started, and make it snappy’! We watched as Benny Boy, Australia’s bravest soldier, unravelled a tube of Torpex upon the mouth of the cave. ‘No turning back from hereon’. And ushering us forward, said, ‘when I light this lot I want you be as far down the cave as youse can possibly get’. 

Yes, and picking up Julian, we ran. It was dark, it was dank, it was slippery, but nothing as slippery as the machinations that had corrupted our lives, pursued us with a vengeance and determined to destroy us, because we alone, knew the truth. 

We stumbled and felt our way along the dark passage and hoped that just this once there may be light at the end of the tunnel. Just as Vladimir hopes for a breakthrough on the western Front so that he may clutch glory, and so as Americans kill each other in shopping streets, in car parks, playgrounds and schools to prove to themselves and the world that they are truly free. 

other are always just about ‘US’.

We found an alcove. Panting, dripping with sweat and exhausted, we waited whilst Terry lit up another round of Camels.  Barely had we inhaled the first puff, when a boom convulsed the tunnel with such gigantic force, the match went out and the blast unsettled us so much we had no recourse but to drop the crumpled Julian. As the dust settled, Quent, asked, ‘are we all still here’? A match illuminated the gloom, and Terry as nonchalantly as ever offered a fresh brace of Camels. Terry was a good man to have in a spot. And what surprised us most was the silence. 

 Where once the air was filled with the venomous fury of savages intent un our blood, led by the real Sophie deity now transformed to a goddess amongst the heathens, it was eerily quiet. It was peaceful, and if ever silence stood for anything it sounded good. 

Benny strolled up to us. 

‘That’ll learn em’. 

Some are borne by mutual interest.

We stood back against the dank wall. And all of us without saying anything to a man offered our thanks. Benny lapping it up, pulled out from his breast pocket the tattered bloodstained ribbon of his VC and reverentially kissed it. ‘I did it for not you just youse, but for my country’. It was solemn moment, almost on par with the coronation, but less dressy. With a flash of his watch, Benny directed us to move on, we dragged Julian behind us, whilst Benny with one mighty arm held ‘Brenny Boy’ Nelson over his shoulder like a sack of wet mice. Two powerful people rendered harmless by the momentous force of global events, in a cave, in the highlands of New Guinea, and unreported on Sky or Fox news. So the noble must go unanointed. 

Shuffling along, wet, drab, exhausted and undernourished the cave went downwards AND with it, our morale. How far will it Go?  Is there a Bottom? ‘What goes up’ as they say in the classics, but with so much after them, we cannot tell, nor dare to wish, but hope, that somehow, they may prevail. 

Or some just by self interest. The mutual is often non-binding.

Find out in our next episode, ‘three epistles that whistle’, or; ‘tempered and tarnished the sceptre (if held correctly) glows in the dark’.