I’ve chosen these pieces for two reasons.  Firstly recent dispatches (MDFF) have mentioned the lost art of the précis, secondly the author’s name is Zaharia, a name not to be trifled with,  Zakaria Mohammed

The Horse: a First Précis

Sunlit, its neck and back –

Birds hid their eyes
–  as though lightning-struck
everyone was transfixed
everyone could see the abyss
except the horse, who galloped headlong.

The Horse: a Second Précis

Everyone could see the pit
except the horse, galloping towards it.

trans Kathleen Jamie

From A Bird Is Not a Stone,  an anthology of contemporary Palestinian poetry, edited by Henry Bell and Sarah Irving.  Freight Books, Glasgow.  2014

Today we re-post the dispatch from earlier in the week, without apology, for it remains relevant.

Dear diarists, at last, another stirring piece from Sir Atney of Emo. Almost lost to us in recent months his resurrection is nothing short of a miracle. Truth eternal that sabre rattling at Nth Korea, or any other tin – pot dicatatorship is just the thing we need in these curious times. In this thrilling instalment he stirs our imagination with the glory of war and derring do. Indeed it is a fine fine thing to die for one’s country in noble sacrifice. Pity though, it’s the pollies who don’t go first. Sir Atney writes:

Preparations for Anzac Day are underway. Preparing soldiers for the glorious march.

For ANZAC Day to mean anything at all it should be set aside for quiet, sombre and dignified reflection on the utter waste of elective wars driven by armchair warriors – and the tragedy of so many young lives lost or ruined to little or no purpose.

As for the parades of of jangly-chested faux-patriots, or the pub gatherings of inebriates playing two-up, please include me out.

A match winning team. Captain and coach of the first eleven being interviewed after second Iraq test.

Super-patriots Dick Cheyney, Rumsfeld and Dubbya cheated their way out of donning their country’s uniform – but later relished sending other people’s sons to war. Imagine anyone dying for those criminals!

Remember that bellicose, ultra-hawk former president of the RSL, Bruce Ruxton? His total service in uniform was a brief stint in occupied Japan in 1946, as a company cook, later in charge of guarding the quartermaster’s provisions! Definitely putting his life on the line for his country in that law-abiding land.

The glory of war!

The men I ever met who actually saw the reality of war up close and personal (North Atlantic convoys, Changi prison, behind the lines in PNG, Battle of Britain, etc., never wanted to talk about their experiences and, as far as I knew, never marched on ANZAC Day.

No, Anzac Day commemoration has turned into a nice little travel industry earner and an opportunity for lollies to show us what jolly patriots they are. The rest enjoy a day off work and a BBQ with a beer or two. I’d like to see even half of all that outlay spent on looking after our neglected and damaged veterans.

And now here’s Therese May laying a wreath at the Cenotaph, while planning an election-winning conflict with Spain. And why wouldn’t she? Maggie T. did very well out of that Falklands buffo!

H.M. Forces, preparing to airlift Gibraltar to the Orkneys.

Anyway, it would be a great chance to show those benighted foreigners that Great Britain can still dish it out… and bugger their EU!

For perfect teeth. Enlist Now!!

We wonder what ” Falklands Buffo” could mean, and implore all readers to submit their suggestions to Mrs Krinklade of the editing department. And as a gesture of goodwill to all who serve, we include a thriling picture of one who served in the most glorious war for civilisation. And returned to our civilian ranks with the aid of Plastic Surgery. Toorak and Armadale matrons the world over. This could be YOU!

The PM is the bloke on the left

Dear reader, we hope you enjoyed seeing the pictures of the Prime Minister visiting the troops in Afghanistan. He was very smartly dressed in combat gear. We like combat gear. It’s perhaps more important than the wedding suit in its symbolism and importance. It was good to see the PM, with a helmet also. We think that a helmet makes an individual look dashing. Though we’re loathe to admit that contemporary helmets are just a little bit too utilitarian for our liking. In the olden days the classic tommy helmet, looked really good, and none can go past the easygoing insouciance of the slouch hat.

Gallant General Gordon

The PM gave us two sound bites. We saw the PM telling the brave noble Anzac soldiers what a good job they were doing in Afghanistan. They’ve been at it now for over twenty-two years. This is quite remarkable. It’s longer than the interval between the end of the First World War, and the start of the Second World War. In that time there was all sorts of changes in foreign policy and international affairs. In Afghanistan over that twenty years there’s been none. Spose that’s a lesson from the two world wars and Vietnam. Without a conscript army you can just go on willy nilly and no one seems to notice. Must cost a bit, but then, in anointing those poor wretched people with civilisation and western values it must be worth it. Funny thing though, in the helicopter, the PM sat with his flack jacket on, and the bloke sitting next to him was looking out the open window whilst holding onto a really big machine gun. It’s belt was chocka-block with what looked like 50 cal ammo. And that was in the middle of Kabul!!

It seems strange to have been there twenty odd years and have such a tenuous hold. Looked a bit like Gordon at Khartoum. But maybe, (and this would be the correct interpretation) it gives hope to the folks at home that something really serious is being done to restore order.

Rorke’s Drift

We like pith helmets too. That’s the pity with Australia’s first war, there were no pith helmets. How we envy South Africans. We, (of the white empire) not only got to use them in civilising the Zulus, but got to use them again when we taught the Boers a lesson about decency and good manners. It’s a pity the pith helmet wasn’t used too much in the First World War, and hardly at all in the Second. A pith helmet if anything, is a symbol of decency and correctness.

On a deeply personal level, I’m in a bit of a quandary as to what to wear to this years Anzac march. I’ve got my grandad’s medals from WW1, and my dad’s ones from the Pacific War. My dilemna is whether to go the First World War, with the ostrich plumes and the sam brown, with bandolier, or go the battle jacket, Lee Enfield and slouch hat. Dad was in the air force, so I could wear a bit of an RAAF ensemble. But it lacks panache. That’s what I secretly admire about the German and Italian uniforms of WW2. Full of style and panache. That’s why we also like the Border Force uniforms, reasserts that style. First Australians complain about the unofficial war that displaced them. I dunno, if they had a decent uniform you’d accord them due respect. Same goes for asylum seekers, they’re a scruffy lot, and it’s all a bit; ‘He said , She says’ really.

I’m really looking forward to the dawn service.

Old blokes dressing up. Makes us PROUD!

Makes us proud to be Australian.

Dear reader, a penetrating piece from our correspondent of the remote north. He sends us these poignant fragments of those who also serve. It reminds us in passing just how greatly we might all live. But not with band and conga line of politicians talking of noble sacrifice.

And, for those who wondered, order is restored in the printing department with the investiture of a new employee . ‘Farfisa’ will be taking over the duties of Mr Cold-tart, under the new “Serf-Indentured Slave category”. Since the demise of the 457 visa, this contract for ” Life- service” is fully endorsed by the Fair Work Commission.

We wish him all the best in his new postion. A full description of his promotion will be listed on Linked in.

Gabriel

–  Rompo este huevo y nace la mujer y nace el hombre.  Y juntos vivirán y morirán.  Pero nacerán nuevamente.  Nacerán y volverán a morir y otra vez nacerán.  Y nunca dejarán de nacer, porque la muerte es mentira

In most if not all translation, some of the original “feeling” dies. I’ll do my best at minimizing such death.
“The woman and the man dreamed that God was dreaming them.
The woman and the man dreamt that a great brilliant egg appeared in God’s dream. Inside the egg, they sang and danced and made an all mighty racket, because they were so wanting to be born. And God, dreaming, created them and intoned: ‘I break this egg and the woman is born and the man is born. And together they’ll live and die. But they will be born again. They will be born and they will die again and again they will be born. And they will never stop being born, because death is a lie”.
 
From Gabriel García Márquez’ ‘Carta de despedida’ (Letter of Farewell):

Chuck knew how to ring the bell.

“… muerte no llega con la vejéz, sino con el olvido…”  (“…death doesn’t arrive with old age, but with forgetting…”)
Galeano and Márquez could play those words like ringing a bell.
Adios Muchachos (Carlos Gardel):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bMu-Qik986g
The death of an infant (still born or soon thereafter or a cot death) is an intensely sad and private affair. The mother who carried the infant in her womb is more or less the only person who has known the child. When you attend the funeral of such a child you realize it isn’t just the tiny coffin which is being buried, with it go all the dreams and hopes. And as you wander through the cemetery you see a long row of tiny graves. Just names and dates of lives cut short- a loss of future. What might have been?And countless grief-stricken mothers who will never forget.

Sly and The Family Stone ‘Que Sera Sera’ (Whatever Will Be Will Be):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Son_p6sPeI

This afternoon after a service at Yuendumu Baptist Church, an old lady, a great-grandmother was buried 90 Km north of Yuendumu. A  paleochannel stretching hundreds of kilometres is clearly defined on airborne radiometric survey maps due to the slightly higher radioactivity caused by Potassium-40 weathered out of granite. The place where the old lady was buried is called ‘Flood-out’ by kardiya, and is a remnant of the old river system. The Warlpiri name of the place is Pirpipakarnu.
It is one of the few “privileges” (more like a concession) accorded Northern Territory Aborigines- the right to choose a bush burial- the right to be buried in your own land, the land that owns you.

No such right seems to apply to women choosing where to give birth. No effort nor expense is spared, when it comes to ensuring mothers-to-be arrive in Alice Springs Hospital on time.
Early this evening I heard the Royal Flying Doctor plane (RFDS) plane arrive.
Yuendumu Clinic is on the opposite side of the ironically named Park Street to my office. The park has been erased by “service” buildings.
On the way home I passed a group of people sitting on the ground outside the clinic. “Who is being flown out?” I asked. “No, Jungarrayi, someone just had a baby” I was told with great glee.
As I started typing this Dispatch, a mere 100 metres further north, a healthy baby was being born. A little girl who started life by beating the RFDS.

In a couple of days time a brilliant young lady’s funeral will take place on what was to be her birthday. This young lady was much loved and admired. Sadly her mind was much stronger than her body. She left this earth ahead of her brilliant grief-stricken mother. She had so much more to do.

Soon a brilliant middle aged man’s funeral will take place. This man was much loved and admired. He left this earth ahead of his brilliant grief-stricken father. He had so much more to do.

Elton John – Funeral for a Friend/Love Lies Bleeding (1973):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vqNkMnLD_uE

When I did High School English, we were taught ‘précis’. We were tasked to reduce several pages of prose into several concise paragraphs, without losing nuances nor meaning. It was an effective way of practising clear thinking and to sharpen one’s bull-shit detector. I wonder if précis is still being taught. I fear not.

Fred Dagg

John Clarke was a master of précis. He could reduce a barrage of politically motivated propaganda into a few carefully crafted words.
NT Intervention [1] – Clarke and Dawe – ABC 7:30 Report:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LLbHihaXvyo
No bull-shit detector could compare to John Clarke’s.
Sinead O’Connor Nothing Compares To You:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c2Hw6oo1fxM
John Clarke could play those words like ringing a bell.

Into each life a little rain must fall- Chuck Berry –the blues…
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qaE7C-hf6Wg
Chuck Berry could play a guitar like ringing a bell.

People like John Clarke and Chuck Berry make life ever so much more worth living. When they die a little of humanity dies with them.
It makes you ponder your own mortality. And that of all your friends around you.

Little Richard…Cos we like him.

My mother used to say: “Doe wel en zie niet om”. She thought it was out of the Bible. Do good and don’t look back. I think we all should. We should while we can.

Tot ziens,

Today as a rare and special treat, we feature one of Australia’s greatest poets
Dame Edna Everage.

A Leaf Out of Dame Edna’s Book

I’m thrilled to be back, before winter has gripped us
In this frock that’s inspired by our own eucalyptus
I’ve just been in the States on a series of gigs
Just spreading my branches and twitching my twigs
But I had to come home, to all you “little beauts”
And the soil that I sprang from – back to my roots

I’m in wonderful health, I don’t look my age
But it’s near 50 years since I first graced this stage.
There’s a tear in my eye, in my throat there’s a lump
To remember myself then, I looked like a frump!
My make-up was awful, my hair a brown crop
And my clothes would have shamed an opportunity shop

And who could have guessed as my talent unfurled
That one day I’d be envied and loved round the world
That film stars and royalty and president’s wives
Would ask me to help them in their little lives
That the rich and the famous with money to waste
Would beg me for guidance on glamour and taste

Though my head is enclosed with these green leafy fronds
My roots go down deep underneath Moonee Ponds
For it gets in the blood, or in my case the sap
And let’s face it, I put Moonee Ponds on the map.

When I first shyly trod these historical boards
They all flocked to see me – but not in great hordes
I did not seek ovations from a cheering house
I had kiddies at home and an invalid spouse
A cream brick veneer and a foxie called Rover
My biological cycle as I thought, was over.

But look at me now, I guess I’ve made the grade
I put most other megastars well in the shade
In a forest of shrubs I’m a towering tree
Yet you won’t find an actress as modest as me
And I’m home (as I think that the media know)
To announce I’m presenting a cutting edge show.

A show that will make the other shows look like weeds
With that laughter and joy that the worried world needs
So huddle, Australians neath my wide-spreading boughs
Though some may be sheep and a few may be cows
Let’s meet in the theatre – all cosy and dark
Where you’ll find that my bite is no worse that my bark.

Dame Edna Everage, Melbourne, July 2003.

Vale. Mr Cold-tart.

Dear reader, it is with sustained angst that we are unable to publish the most current despatch from the front. This has nothing to do with our esteemed colleague from the north. It’s just that Mrs Krinklade of the printing department failed to inform Mr Cold-tart of the typesetting department who subsequently (he has been gainfully employed in this position for some seventy six years) suffered an attack of the twinges when he felt that his position was to be superseded by “technological upgrades’.

We informed Mr Cold-tart who was recuperating at the Sunny Vale home for the infirm, that we were absolutely devastated that this inadvertent error had stricken him thus. We reassured him that the modernisation programme, (a new coffee machine and Heidelberg double set lithographic three colour printing press) would augment his position and we hoped that he (upon recovery) would resume his duties as Managing Director typesetting and photogravure offset printing. We reassured him that his job was for life, and we eagerly awaited the Federal Governments incentives to re-train him in white paper and discussion paper transfer systems. He asked us what these systems were? We reassured him that though we didn’t know ourselves, it was clear, in the fine print of the Federal Governments Framework policy for integrating senior workers back into the workforce.

Although he seemed relieved, his condition deteriorated and he subsequently had another attack of the twinges. And died.

Mrs Krinklade.

The post mortem, left an open verdict on cause of death. We beg to differ.

Whilst we reassured my Cold-tart his position was secure we didn’t realise that he was also suffering from Acute Utility Anxiety Syndrome. (AUAS) as distinct from Acute Neurological Utility Syndrome, (ANUS). Apparently his annual gas bill, once a steady 5 percent of his income had risen in leaps and bounds. The twinges were a consequence of stress induced utility disorder. (SIUD). Bills for tens of thousands were due or overdue, and poor Mr Cold-tart had no capacity to pay. His rent was behind, and he was also facing eviction. And to our distress he suffered under the weight of tens of thousands of court orders, arrest warrants and payment demands for fines incurred for jay walking, parking an unregistered bicycle, and for numerous Myki infringements. Groaning under the weight of these imposts My Cold-tart’s twinge bought upon by Mrs Krinklade’s inadvertent mistake was the straw that broke the proverbial back.

The coroners report was unable to detail these ancillary circumstances as contributory, and just determined, “Died of AUS”, (acute utility syndrome).

Sale of pcbycp offices to un-named consortia. Possible links to this trio of merchant bankers

We decided to do something about this, and went straight to the utilities ombudsman, who politely informed us that his position had been privatised and we should talk to the principal shareholder. WE discovered the principal shareholder was in actual fact a current member of the Liberal National coalition. Frustrated we tried to engage the landlord, and was informed that the landlord, also was a member of the current parliament. Flummoxed, we turned to the Housing affordability action resource centre and was told that also had been sequestered by persons unknown with links to federal parliament.

Our search is ongoing, but will be truncated, as the offices of pcbycp have just been acquired as a portfolio of investment properties by another un-named member of parliament.

Our hope for reform is undiminished. Mr Cold-tart did not die in vain. WE know that our federal representatives will work tirelessly to reform this inequitable system. To assist our re-location we have been offered counselling and further training by experts. They have given us a discussion paper to read, and its printed on very nice paper with pictures. Clear signs that something is being done. And as an act of contrition Mrs Krinklade has offered to read it. She expects to have digested section one by Monday. She assures us that adequately vitamised it is not entirely unsavoury, and a teaspoon of sugar will help it all go down.

No evidence of twinges yet.

457 Visa restrictions will impact professional skills category for Conga- Line dancers

Dear reader at last some positive news on the 457 front. There are many people in desperate impoverished circumstances who seek to improve themselves in our land of opportunity and god-given fortune. Sadly the prerequisites that allowed synchronised conga-dancers, goat herders, yak sexers and straw measurers have been scrapped. These occupations, along with Coat-hanger testers, milk tasters and bum lickers, (for specialised old age training facilities) are no longer required. The federal government has just had enough, and according to unsubstantiated sources the system was being rorted by unscrupulous operators. We cannot verify these claims, but were told by Achmed that he was being paid handsomely at the local Seven Eleven, and enjoyed very much the comforts of a shipping container. Similarly we told Ishmael about the changes at the local Liberty Service Station and he smiled, telling us that an 18 hour day was very good for the constitution, and living in a chicken coop was luxury denied to most ordinary australians.

So the vexed question is, who will be able to perform these skilled niche occupations? And is Australia up to the task in training locals for these specialised and highly technical tasks?

We’re happy to say the answer is here.

Michaelia Cash. Demonstrates impact of Conga Line restrictions on the local economy

The Federal government has just announced a new two tiered training and vocational programme to provide local training for these niche jobs, jobs that ordinary australians just can’t do.

The Minister for negative gearing and housing speculation Michealia Cash unveiled the Federal governments Super Screw-U-scheme.

Screw_U-Training Scheme. Growing the Economy. Offer of free laptop and lifetime of debt.

‘For years we’ve been worrying about jobs and growth, and watched as the poor became poorer and the rich substantially richer. The only winners seemed to be those with property. And in all fairness the programme has worked. We need specialised skills in growing our two tiered economy of housing and population growth. The old jobs of actually making things and doing things are of no use. That’s why we’re proud to have co opted the greatest inter generational theft by making loopholes and concessions to ensure that only wealthy overseas investors and baby boomers get more of the cake.

I assure investors, we will still have niche visas skilfully crafted by our friends in the Property Council to encourage very very useful and wealthy members of the Chinese communist party to grow the economy through speculative housing investment. And with our gold card scheme, we’ll encourage them to displace as many young people from the housing market as possible. Really poor underpaid young people will reap a net benefit from the scew-U-training scheme. Whatever they earn will be ploughed back into consolidating their debt, and unlike us pollies, who own hundreds of investment properties, these young-uns will be trained to accept burgeoning life-time debt and no chance of ever securing a roof over their head.

Positive Signs of Integrated Gold Card Visa scheme. Policy to assist growth and members of Communist Party obtain affordable housing for their children.

But the bonus is… they’ll have a job for LIFE!

It’s fair, and endorsed by the IPA. By keeping them poor it gives them an incentive to find a niche on the ladder of opportunity. An opportunity to endure ongoing training in specialised private vocational colleges across the country. To accumulate more debt. And as a bonus they’ll get a free laptop and a nice certificate.

And in doing so, we’ll draw a line across the curse of underemployment, a conga line if you like.

Foreign Policy and MOABB

American Fleet during re-enactment of Battle of Tsushima Straits

Dear reader, at last some positive news on the foreign affairs front. Even as we write an American fleet is performing a historical re-enactment of the Russian Baltic Fleets stupendous effort to do battle with the Japanese in 1905. Later famously known as the Battle of the Tsushima Straits, or (‘Another bad day not so good Imperial Russian Navy’ in the official Histories of ‘Make Good Russian Foreign Policy for vanquished subject Peoples Everywhere’, 1908, (reprinted 2017), the head of the US Military, Major General Wilton Bollocks-burger, had this to say;

‘America will do whatever it has in its power to protect freedom. In Syria, we will show no tolerance to agressive behaviour, and will do our utmost to protect little chillin from gas attack. Likewise we want to make a demonstration of the awesome capacity of US Seapower; ‘the most expensive in the world’, to punch the pudgy pug nose of would-be dictators.
We’ve had enough of soft of diplomacy. Kim Jong-Un will be Un-done!

Foreign Minister really angry about States Rights!!

Meanwhile, in Australia, the Federal Government is busy working out why they’ve sold all their natural resources and energy freely to overseas multinationals. Seems the only persons left to blame are the greens. ‘They’ve stopped our capacity to drill for gas in any of the places not yet sold off’, a vexious Minister for Energy fumed. ‘The states don’t want to mine their national parks, and what hasn’t been sold off is tied up in Green Tape’. And to prove just how angry he is, he has cancelled 457 visas for dog handlers and flight attendants.

But in a show of alternate foreign policy in a world of alternate facts and reality itself, the Foreign Minister Julie Bishop has unveiled a weapon that is sure, once and for all, to end the crisis in Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, or anywhere else the wisdom of the “coalition of the wiling” has sought fruition.

In an unveiling at RAAF Amberley, the Foreign Minister unveiled the ‘Mother of all Bon Bons’.

“Men and Women and LGBTI people of Australia, this is the future of Australian Intervention. When we drop the MOABB on Afghanistan, or some such other place not yet annointed with the enlightenment of civilisation, it will transform foreign affairs FOREVER’. For too long we’ve relied on the doctrine of Forward Strategic Defence, and for too long we’ve relied on the nuclear deterrent as the ultimate instrument of foreign policy. Australia is a middle ranking power, and cannot exert the same influence as our braver and bolder allies. That’s why the MOABB is a game changer.

Once dropped from a height of 30, 000 feet, the candy coloured Christmas Cracker disintegrates and from the bowels of the worlds biggest bon bon, rains a constellation of tasty treats. Children’s toys, medicines, furniture, televisions, game- boy’s, transistor radios, and millions of pre-decimal pennies. Each little gift is gift wrapped and is adorned with kisses and a map of Australia.

Foreign People, rejoicing in Australian Aid, MOABB and Pennies from Heaven.

And Why. To make allies from former enemies and prove there’s no point in catching a leaky boat to Australia. And thirdly, to our detractors at home that say foreign aid is too expensive. For poor benighted folk anywhere, it’ll be raining pennies from heaven’. (thunderous applause)

Dear reader, at last we have progress on housing affordability.

The Prime Minister, hot on the heels of his fantastic Indian free trade talks suggested a new era in economic policy. One in which Australia can revel in a newer and more level, level playing field. An era in which all innovation, thinking and anything to do with manufacturing will be sold off to overseas interests. He beamed: ‘After the gas sell off, there’s just so much more to sell off to overseas companies for free. And it’ll prove that when you invest in Australia your profits are guaranteed. That’s called Sovereign Trust’.

The following is an extract from his speech.

Inaugural Minister for Lazy Ideas. Matt Canavan. ” After manufacturing there’s always Coal and Housing’.

“Men and women of Australia, it gives me great pleasure to announce the formation of a new Super-Ministry. I am very proud to say that this represents absolute proof that the ‘Ideas Boom’ and the ‘Innovation Revolution’ are bearing fruit. And with fruit as exotic as this, full credit must go to my Minister for Northern Development Mr Matt Canavan for inspiring leadership and truly visionary thinking.

We present to you, The Ministry for Lazy Ideas.

The Ministry is a first for this country. After detailed discussion with the Property Council, the Minerals and Energy Council and our good friends at Newscorp we now have a Ministry that is fully up to the mark. And it’s full marks, and a rebuttal to our former Liberal leader Dr Hewson. He may have got 10 outta ten for economic policy but as a politician? (roars of laughter).

The Prime Minister is truly innovative.

Like my predecessor Bob Hawke, I understand the need for big picture politics. Bob, bought us economic rationalism and Greening Australia. With Greening Australia he single handedly created a new Super-Ministry and employed tens of thousands of bureaucrats, to achieve……an impressive library of white papers, green papers and after all was said and done a discussion paper and a professorial fellowship to ex Amcor members. And he also stated most memorably that by 1990; “no child would live in poverty”. And the public, swallowed it whole.

Matt Canavan will be the inaugural head of this new Ministry. And I’ve gotta tell you for the public at large it’s a vote winner. We held focus group sessions with members of the Property Council and the IPA and they’ve given us the green light. Kiddies will be able to squander their superannuation and if they haven’t got superannuation, they can sell their vital organs. There’s an incentive for parents who may actually own a house to go into ‘special care’ arrangements, and with the Minerals and Energy Council’s growing access to untapped resources we’ll be opening up the National parks for retail, mining and residential development. The burgeoning housing crisis will be unstoppable. And why? Because it’s good for the shareholders and some very nice people who need a leg up in the investment market. Some of them own only two or three investment properties (roar of “ Shame” from shocked audience) and there’s unrealised potential. To accomodate for the new housing boom, we’ll triple the current intake of migrants, and fast track university enrolments across the board to achieve a faster processing of visas and residency permits. The Ministry itself will require a HUGE investment in recruitment and the development of policy white, green, yellow, crimson and pink papers, just to prove our LGBTI credentials.

So, it’s a huge tick for further investment into this vital sector. “Ideas Boom”?, yes indeed. , will be augmented by the Ministry of Silly Ideas and Ministry of Short-Termism, to ensure that you the taxpayer, get the government you truly deserve. To demonstrate once and for all, that Australia is well and truly  ‘Open for Business’