War is CUTE!
Occasionally there are some charities that underperform.
You can flavour a crown most effectively with poppy seed and rosemary. Suggested regulo temp 250 for three hours. Turn occasionally.
Their charitable indices are un-met. That’s determined by what is achieved on the ground. Often this is hard to determine by any standard metric. After the charity has raised the money, often by a corps of underpaid or voluntary fundraisers, the proceeds are funneled into administration. After administration there’s the running costs, the overheads, depreciation and servicing costs. Sometimes the charity hardly makes any money at all, that’s why they need more funding.
They tell us that there’s no more efficient way to achieve their objective aims, in delivering funds to the needy because it’s all upholding a public spirit of giving. And even giving can be onerous.
Genuine Camp Gallipoli bed roll. (made in China)
Is there a charities regulator? I’m not sure, but recently the famous spin bowler was de- charitised, and more recently still a charity possessed with all the hallmarks of public spirited-ness got into a spot of bother. Apparently though ostensibly raising money in honoured and sacred memory to those who died in the cause of maintaining God, King and Empire in winning the war for Civilisation no less, this charity failed in their capacity to deliver the trickle down effect. The RSL and other beneficiaries aint received a cent. They’re a bit cranky about that, and angered that the charity (there are opportunists out there) has used the sacred name ANZAC, Gallipoli, and Digger, to secure their income stream.
By Jingo!! The noble sacrifice of staying up all night with a crowd of nationalistic flag wavers, and wearers.
‘Camp Gallipoli’ has a noble ring to it. And i’m sure as the name suggests it’s inclusive of LGBTI folk who also serve. Apparently the idea is about camping on an oval with thousands of other people. It’s squalid, overcrowded, and is meant to equate to what the diggers may have endured for one night at Gallipoli. It happens on ANZAC eve. It doesn’t matter that at that stage the diggers were either on a troop transport, or embarking at Lesbos. Comfortably settled in a khakhi tent tent and sleeping bag without the stench of corpses, sand, flies, lice, and Johnny Turks’ imprecations approximate to the real deal. Wake up in the morning and you’re converted into a true blue ANZAC.
An alluring inducement to go camping.
You’d think all those people celebrating the soon to be dead in the name of noble sacrifice would be a bit forthcoming, but the CEO of Camp Australia, said that after overheads, agency costs, maintenance, medal wear, and camp licenses he’s barely breaking even. In actual fact he’s doing it for free, and anyone else is welcome to it. He’s received funding from the feds, government grants and generous donations, including a hefty lift from anonymous donors, and he still can’t tell us where the funds have gone. And each poor bugger on the oval pays $160 per person. And i’m not sure if they get bully beef for breakfast. Charity is like war, send you broke and you’re never too sure where it’s going to lead, and before you can say Gallipoli you’re in shtook!
Products not made in Australia
That’s why we at PCbyCP are planning our own charitable event. ‘The eternal sons of the glorious few who’s noble sacrifice upon the fields of Asia Minor and Western France achieved, precisely nothing event’. This charitable event will be held on the anniversary of the most significantly futile attack on the Somme. It was to be Passchendaele, but as we know that the POMS had nothing to do with the glorious allied victory on the western front, it will be on the anniversary of Pozieres, in which we distinguished ourselves above all others. People will camp in the show grounds and after it has been prepared by a flotilla of monster tractors, the surface will be conditioned to a treacle-like consistency. Then with shovels they will dig a trench system and endure a night of indescribable filth. We are indebted to the local abattoir for offering an entire months offal to be strewn over the surface, and the CSIRO ANZAC industry research division for supplying rats, flies and lice.
Much more fun. Participants revel in Camp Pozieres. Real mud, corpses body parts and live rats.
In the morning at five ack emma, the participants will charge at each other with sacks of wet mice, and ultimately achieve nothing. As this battle royale ensues their bank accounts will be liquidated, (and this is in the name of charity) and their entire monetary worth will be redirected to our prescribed notable cause. They emerge, broke, buggered and bereft, (a victory of sorts) and discover they have lost all, for a dubious cause. This is their elevation, their apotheosis in to being upholders of the ANZAC tradition. Now cleansed of everything, they must join the dole queue, their enthusiasm, passion, nobility crushed. And their ensuing generations destroyed by failure and the train wreck of broken optimism. Then they too will understand what it is like to be a hero, and we, at PcbyCP, will spend the money on attractive floral clocks to adorn every town, to remind us all that time waits for no one.
But for charities, time is eternal. And their spirit endures.
A small flame of un-fracked methane shall be burnt in their honour.