Dear reader, as you recall, we’d almost got out of Federal Parliament with most of our five hundred million intact, when we were tapped on the shoulder. What follows is a description of such inescapable fear, loathing and humiliation, we suggest for the old, young and infirm, they stop reading right now, and listen to the soothing strains of local abc radio.

As we descended we came across skeletons of those who’d perished in trying to change Parliament. Skeletons of WOMEN!

Down we went, past the guards who saluted their leader, and through a sucession of very elaborate doors. As each door boomed and closed behind us, another door, double bolted, solid armour plate and concrete, swung open. And through each apeture the corridor grew narrower and narrower as we walked through another door and another and then another. WE were crawling now, deep deep down into the bowels of whatever passes for the subterranean realm of tunnels beneath parliament house. Tunnels of which the very existence is scarcely known and as legend hath it, used to lead directly to the very centre of the earth, and onwards through to the corridors of power in the People’s Republic of China. 

I tried to reassure Mrs Coldtart that Peter meant her no harm!

After following Peter dutifully for over an hour, we  found ourself crawling along what semed to be an airconditioning duct. It was dark and clammy. And just as members of  our more senior entourage were flagging, we arrived at an antechamber. Inside the antechanber, which was not much bigger than a small room, we were told to wait. From an apeture in the  wall, a door opened, Within six suits all white with crosses on the breast pocket.  Peter motioned us to don them, we obediently did. 

We were asked to don these strange white suits

Peter then commanded  us to sit down. He also commanded “men this side, women this side”. We complied. What else could we do? We all felt an ominous sense of foreboding. But as we were now under the very depths of Parliament, we thought it wise to comply. As we sat, in a small circle, waiting for the next move the room became dim, the single naked globe flickered, spluttered, and then with a spasm went out. WE were plunged in darkness. Mrs Coldtart our stenographer began to whimper, for a moment it seemed all was lost until we became aware of a dull bluish glow. By degrees it got brighter and brighter until all of us were bathed in a shimmering light. Peter, outlined in his splendour, stood tall and resolute, placed his hands in prayer and looked up. Incredibly a void opened up and from up above a light more incandescent than a thousand suns shone forth. 

It looked for all the world like the light of GOD! 

WE were stilled, paralysed with anticipation, till a voice spoke. A powerful voice. A voice strangely familiar. And it said, “ Who are you, and why do you seek the role of women in parliament” ? Cecil offered a meek reply, ‘Cos we want to know why’? 

But the voice went on, as if we didn’t exist. “Who are these people’? Peter Dutton replied as if mesemerised, as if controlled by an invisible force;  “ordinary folk”! 

The voice then boomed; “Why do they come’?, Peter replied again; “curiosity”, and then the voice, “Why should they LIVE then’? 

We trembled, Peter replied, “for they work, pay taxes to you my LORD,  and do thy bidding”, and the voice then boomed, ‘Stand’!! 

” I am RUPERT Lord of MURDOCH’!

We all stood up. The voice proclaimed this; 

“I am RUPERT Lord of Murdoch. I am government. I am the people. I am the Australian singularity. It is I who bring self loathing! It is I who tell you what you cannot do! It is I who make and destroy Prime Ministers and Cabinet. First Law of Murdoch, there are to be no women in parliament unless they are given unto me. For I am all seeing and all powerful. There is no other law than Murdoch. There is no truth other than Murdoch. There is no existence other than Murdoch.  Obey me, or DIE’!!

In an instant the light went out. And we knew nothing. 

Cecil and I were strangely drawn to the evil power. It was INESCAPABLE!!.

Was it a dream? 

We found ourselves back at pcbycp headquarters. Our money had evaporated. Like it never existed. Clarrie said “it’s like we never went to Canberra and the whole thing never happened”. WE thought of ringing the ABC, but we were too scared. Lord Rupert owned it, and  no one would believe us, and even if they did, we had such a sense of foreboding we knew, that to speak would spell doom. Doom and the eternity of knowing that we’d crossed an inviloate force, and from there-on would be oblivion. And we knew deep down, though we dared not admit it, that something inside us had changed. Changed us FOREVER!

Only the other day Mrs Coltart quipped; “Good thing there are NO women in the Liberal party. The whole idea is absurd. What use are they anyway’? WE all agreed, something had changed in our view of things, but the manner of it was inexplicable. WE knew, but dared not to question. And we knew within there was now a void. There was nothing we could do about it. And we also knew, as if our minds had been cleansed in our ignorance, there was peace. And in not knowing there was contentment. We’d seen the light in the beautiful darkness. Lord Rupert had spoken.  Women in the parliamentary Liberal Party is a non issue

The real issue is;  Colingwood plays Richmond friday night. 

And what is wrong with Dustin Martins Knee?