But Clarrie, phlegmatic to the last cheered us up a bit when he reminded, us, ‘jeez, we could’ve got off the train at Castlemaine and just been killed in Australia’.

Dear reader, as you may well understand the staff of pcbycp find themselves in a Dickens of a situation. Clarrie is almost dead, he’d lost the lot, a sacrifice made to get us home. No sooner than we got home we were imprisoned, set free by an anonymous donor. Then re-imprisoned, sent to Manaus, and then dumped in Port Moresby. But Clarrie, phlegmatic to the last cheered us up a bit when he reminded, us, ‘jeez, we could’ve got off the train at Castlemaine and just been killed in Australia’. We thought about it, he had a point. 

Clarrie was fading fast.

As fate would have it, we were in New Guinea at a particularly sticky point in trade negotiations between the Chinese and the PNG Government. Australia had come the raw prawn for not just giving the PNG government shitloads of cash, (a standard in fiscal responsibility) and in frustration  they’d gone to the Chinese who were only too willing to help them out. But the problem was, after the Maserati’s and the Lamborghini’s  had been sold off to relatives and mates of the PNG Ministers, they knew they had an image problem. And image is everything in PNG. The public were getting cranky, and the Raskols had run outta expensive stuff to sell, and couldn’t find a buyer for Clarries iron lung. And when the Raskols get shirty, the government is in trouble. 

This is where we come into it They wanted to sign the deal and the Chinese wanted them to sign the deal, but they needed a strong man. A man who would be respected. And if you’re thinking tribal, a man with strong magic and special powers. Though Ces had gone ‘Strong Man’, he wasn’t big enough. What they wanted was almost a God. ‘For a tin pot country they’ve got a lotta front’, Clarrie said. By now he was grey, only the tip of the ciggy to illuminate him. 

‘I dunno’, (I said glumly), we turned to our surgeon, ‘we’ve run out of aces Ka-ching, (that was his name) even if we had aces of spades the packs been dealt and we’re rooted’. 

‘Aces’! Ka-ching ejaculated..

“Aces’?  We replied.. Flummoxed 

“Hold your horses mate, this aint Sky or Crown”,  Cec quipped, but Ka-ching could not be settled, 

“You have King’!. And he pointed to “Us”.. 

“What the, we’re a fucking parliamentary democracy, and the supreme being who governs us is her Majesty’! We paused for extra gravitas, “Queen Elizabeth the Second, God Bless HER’!, At the mention of her name the rooom, a concrete cell, suddenly felt warmer, and more homely. 

“No No No”, Ka-ching remonstrated:  “You have King who RULE”! And making a sweeping gesture he lauded, “ all over you”.. 

‘Fuck me, what’s he on?’. Ces clearly had quite enough. 

‘Royal Flush’ out he flashes a photo of some crabby old bat with a bouffant of red hair.

“I dunno”, (I replied) , and then Ka-ching made it self evident. “You get KING we Pay”. And sooner than you could say ‘Royal Flush’ out he flashes a photo of some crabby old bat with a bouffant of red hair. 

‘I don’t think much of your taste in sheilas’,  quipped Clarrie and paused to throw it in the bin, Then just as suddenly, he paused and studied the crumpled piece of paper, 

There was no doubt. 

It was Fergie. 

In a flash we had the strategy tied up. 

“Get a call to Fergie” Ces cried,  and for the price of a foot massage, the Chinese were onto it. They had unlimited funds, “Get prince Andrew to stand in as GG, and the deal is done”. 

They had unlimited funds, “Get prince Andrew to stand in as GG, and the deal is done”.

WE had the Palace on the line, they were playing the Rolf Harris classic ‘Two little Boys’, and after a short delay we had Andy on the line. 

All he wanted to know was when he could leave the UK, and did PNG have an extradition treaty with the West Indies  or the US? Quick as a flash our kind Chinese surgon said “Nup”, and the deal was done. 

We’d pulled it off. A diplomatic tour de force. Found a new head of state for PNG with Strong Man credentials. A man  who could work with the Chinese, and smooth the waters with Australia. And the bonus was,  on the way over, the Prince was dropping in on a re-education facility in Uighurstan, to pick up a spare kidney and liver, half a spleen, and heart valve for Clarrie, . 

We couldnt believe out luck, and hi-fived till it hurt. 

Found a new head of state for PNG with ‘Strong Man’ credentials.

WE asked Ka-ching; “might you tell us who the anonymous donor was’?. He suddenly turned pale and pointed to a picture of Winnie the Pooh. Whilst he put a finger across his throat. 

We knew then, we were destined for big things, and perhaps as the Cantonese street seller is fond of saying, “we were out off the rice paper and into the wok”. Whichever way you look at it we were on the wrong side of the Yangtze river, in a barbed wire canoe, without a rice paddle. Or as Clarrie said “A shitsu short of the Pekinese”. 

Will our heroes escape from PNG with their testimonials intact?

Will they be summoned by a higher authority?

Wil they be summoned to Beijing?

Or will they procure for a man who would, could have, might have been , a KING?

high level diplomacy and the secrets of whatever it is that Prince Andrew does for a living.

Stay tuned to our next enthralling episode, as PCBYCP unravels the mystery of international strategy, high level diplomacy and the secrets of whatever it is that Prince Andrew does for a living. 

Clarrie’s old friend Dakota 2373/45B

The short trip in the Dakota wasn’t too bad. The plane itself seemed familiar.  Clarrie kept saying so.  We had quite a time lifting him. The dialysis, still with “ A GIFT FROM THE AUSTRALIAN GOVERNMENT TO THE REPUBLIC OF EAST TIMOR 1975′,  as a talisman of a high point of Australian diplomacy stencilled on the side, and the iron lung machine on board. The heavy set and muscular  Border Force staff were unable to help us. As they said, (rather apologetically), their job description involved tasering, spraying mace, truncheoning, identifying lefty trouble makers and handcuffing malcontents and law breaking illegal immigrants, but nothing to do with iron lungs or dialysis machines. They were afraid if they helped us and did their backs in they’d be ineligible for the NDIS.  We had to agree that they had a point.  If they got it for just helping people they’d be technically (and you don’t have to be a lawyer at Slater and Gordon to understand it),  fucked. 

Getting Clarrie on board. A HELL of a business

Still, Clarrie ,recognised it. It was the tappet knockng in the fifth cylinder on the  port engine. It was the same plane that had taken his platoon out of Finschafen in 45 after the Japs had surrendered. He said this was an omen, who were we not to believe him that we were gonna come out allright. We HAD to believe him. ‘Funny’ he said, ‘in the olden days Dakota serial number 2373/45 B was just a biscuit bomber, and now, thanks to Australian government funding was a frontline component of the PNG defense force’. Clarrie beamed, Wish I’d bought my decorations, Cec, waggishly quipped, ‘what the eff! are we opening a fish and chip shop or is it a fucken cake shop’!

WE pissed ourselves laughing. After Tuvalu, Ces had picked up a few pointers on diplomacy from Scomo, and could speak “Strong man”. It would hold us in good stead. They respect Strong Men in PNG. 

We landed that evening at Port Moresby, 

Waldo, (our typesetter) adjusting the Dialysis intake panel en-route

As promised we were dropped in the main street. No sooner than the iron lung and the dialysis machine had been offloaded we were held at knife point by rascols and they flogged the lot. If we didn’t get help soon Clarrie woud be dead . If we dont get help we’ll all be fucked said Clarrie. You can say that again Cec replied grimly, “ allright beamed Clarrie, ‘if we don’t get help we’ll all be fucked’.

“Shove a sock in it, you’re sounding like Jacinta Hardon the Kiwi PM”,Ces replied,  Clarrie laughed so loud he ruptured his spleen, the only organ he hadn’t selflessly donated to the Chinese. Still as an Anzac of old, he just took an extra long draw on his ciggie and smiled grimly, You’ve gotta hand it to him I said, “ indestructable”! In Short we were buggered. Stuck in Port Moresby penniless, and not even a Maserati or Lamborghini to get around in. 

But then something extraordinary happened. Outta the blue!!!  Just like that! The kind Chinese surgeon who’d taken Clarries organs to pay for our Catalina out of Tuvalu just wandered by. I tell you, it’s a million to one.  But there he was. 

Manaus is paradise compared to Moresby

Clarrie who’d picked up a bit of Mandarin, quipped, “ I’ll be a deceased pangolins testicles” and cogniscent of how  these things are prized as an aphrodisoac by Chinese businessmen or senior party leaders, the surgeon turned round, and beamed, ‘You Boys come back’? And we all gathered doing Hi-five’s all round. As Ces proclaimed; “I dunno, Doc having you about is like falling into the shithouse cess pit and coming up like roses”. WE heartilly agreed. 

Turns out he was in PNG as part of a trade delegation. Australia had gone tight arse on the PNG, and they‘d turned to China for help. And to their credit, China, came to the party. China has selflessly offered to build em an international airport, a twelve lane freeway, and a ‘worlds best practice’ Space Port right here in Port Moresby. But they were having problems with the locals.  You see the locals wanted something special, and with our Tuvalu experience, we were just the people who might be able to help em out. 

As Clarrie croaked, (he was dead crook now);’ if we can do it for Sky and Crown we can do it for our little fuzzy wuzzy angels’ . He had a point, it was time to dig deep and hope that this time, once again, our mates from China would help us out. 

Only problem being Clarrie.  He’d run outta organs.  We had to find someone real quick. A man of action , who could talk bilaterally, who could cross the cultural divide between clean living Aussies, primitive tribesmen of New Guinea, and the insidious reach of the Asiatic Horde. A leader, who wasn’t the proverbial chop stick short of the missionary. 

Didn’t look too bad on the outside. Another example of Australian nation building know how!

But who could that person be? Clarrie was dying, like the Murray Darling. And if we didn’t come up with an answer soon, we’d all be gone to Murray Cod… 

And so ends another thriling installment, 

What will happen next?  Wlll our boys get out?

Will they keep their testimonials intact?

Or is it as Confucius famously said, “man who put tool in box not neccesarily carpenter”. 

Stay tuned for our next thrilling installment, 

‘The day of reckoning’, or: “A Mahjong short of the Kuomintang”, 

We hoped to be staying here. But it’s GORNE!

Brought to you in vivid technicolour by pcbycp. 

Tanya Day, killed for own good by Victoria’s finest.

WE the editorial staff at pcbycp would like to extend our heartfelt thanks to the anonyous donor who got us out of the Port Headland detention centre. Though in hindsight our reprieve from the long-hand of the law was brief it gave us a sense of hope. The Tuvalu expedition had been a dismal failure. And though we saved Australia’s bacon, we felt a little “Vietnam Veteran”.  Rather than being saluted as homecoming hero’s we were imprisoned without trial for breaching section 34 B of the “White persons who may be considered black statute”. Its akin to being locked up for being drunk on a train in Central Victoria and killed for your own good. To be quite frank we were just a little bit worried. After being declared ‘non-persons’ by Border Force, we were slated for detention on Manaus Island and then the prospect loomed of being released as newly minted citizens of PNG onto the streets of Port Moresby.   

They’re friendly folk on Port Moresby. Waiting at the airport for our arrival.

That was the bit we didn’t mind so much.  We quite like a tropical climate,and Clarrie, who’s getting on a bit had fond memories of performing there with the ‘Crazy Gang’ in 42.  But we were worried about systemic corruption. After all, Transurban who runs the detention facility has a head office on Port Moresby, and after being fleeced by the Tuvaluans, we ‘d ran outta cash. We were told we ‘d be retrained as part of the settlement package, but as we only have basic clerical skills we knew we weren’t up to scratch in starting a dynamic new enterprise. And besides,  though the  training staff at Port Headland instructed us in the rudiments of  fish and chip making, and we’d acquired quite exceptional skill in hamburger tossing, deep frying and Calimari pairing, we didn’t have the neccessary funds to buy a suitable shop or at the very least equip it with a deep fryer and hot plate. 

I don’t know what your knowledge of these things are, but since the Apec forum in PNG, we could get our hands on a newly minted Maserati, a Lamborghini testa-roneo, but not a cent for business startups or investment on training up locals to find gainful employment in the aforementioned tasks. WE even went along to the PNG embassy in Melbourne, (we were medi-vacked prior to internment at Manaus), as Clarries kidney had given out on him. He’s now permanently in the iron lung and has failed the re-entrance test for all prospective migrants and will be deported with the rest of us,  iron lung, (he lost one of those as well) dialysis and all. 

Even the new (stand-in) Cardinal ignored us. Too busy “Having a Pell of a Time” on God’s telephone

So things were looking slightly on the shit-house side, if you excuse our French. 

WE spent a week on Manaus to be greeted by that bloke Behrouz Boochani, who frankly depressed us. He couldn’t see the lighter side of things, and kept texting away on his mobile. In his cell he displayed the award he won for his book. We’d like to have read it  but books are not allowed in Manaus. Cos they can be used to start fires, or if held incorrectly will block either the CCTV in every room, or coverage of the Third Test. . So we just read the reviews in the Catholic Boys Daily (the Australian) which he’d cut out and pinned to the wall. Gotta say they weren’t all that favourable. In the end we agreed Bahrouz, was ungrateful, just like the aborigines. Ungrateful for all the help we’d given him. No wonder why he wasnt allowed  to settle in OZ. Not only was he an Iranian but he was 100 percent un-Australian. 

Raskols, very difficult to train as Uber or Fish and Chip shop workers. Very adept at slicing and dicing onions though.

We thought with Clarrie being in an iron lung and on dialysis, he’d be a shoe-in to stay on Manaus. But sooner than you could say 457 we were on a Dakota bound for Port Moresby. Our plea to the highest authority in the land had failed. Rupert would not open our letters.  We were bound for Port Moresby… and there was nothing, (even if they tried) that anyone could do about it.. 

In short, as the headhunter said to the missionary; ” we were about to be cooked, eaten and well and truly stuffed”!

Why were we being treated as such? Was it a monumental blunder? A clerical error? Or had we done real wrong, for trying to protect Australia from Chinas insidious grip? We were a Ouija board short of an answer, and the sand was running through the conch shell. 

And we know dear reader? We ask ourselves;  Will we survive? Will we be a headhunter short of the anthropologist? Will we be a Prince Andrew short of the statutory rape charge?…

Will we be converted to a lifetime fo rascol gangery?? 

Stay tuned to our next installment.. 

Inmates on Manaus, Ungrateful,  bereft of a sense of humour. And a D minus for spelling and grammar.  Un- Australian!!!

“Mission to Manaus”, 

Or…. “An abridged, asylum seekers cry for help too far”… 

Dear reader we are disturbed deeply by those who write depressingly about Australia.  We know that there is nothing wrong at the heart of this country, because, there is no HEART in Australia. So enjoy with us this snippet from the celebrated poet and scholarly writer A.D.Hope. It tells us much about ourselves, and that’s a damn good thing. Cos our politicians don’t read poetry. They abhor that sort of thing. It reminds the of ” bedwetters”

AD Hope before he karked it. He popularised the broad brimmed hat as equipage for intellectuals before it was commandeered by Manning Clark and Barnaby Joyce.

Editors Note. If you know of someone who is afflicted with bedwetting syndrome, or are a sufferer yourself, please fell free to ring the pcbycp bed-wetter help line. Our trained therapists and psychologists will ensure that you remain marginalised and ineligible for a penny of support from the NDIS. Because bed- wetters are beyond contempt. And besides; they waste water.

AUSTRALIA

A nation of trees, drab green and desolate grey

In the field uniform of modern wars

Darkens her hills, those endless, outstretched paws

Of Sphinx demolished or stone lion worn away.

They call her a young country, but they lie:

She is the last of lands, the emptiest,

A woman beyond her change of life, a breast

Still tender but within the womb is dry.

Without songs, architecture, history:

The emotions and superstitions of younger lands,

Her rivers of water drown among inland sands,

The river of her immense stupidity

“The river of her immense stupidity”, contemporary Australian intellectuals wear an AD Hope Hat as a symbol of respect for deep thinking and Rivers.

Floods her monotonous tribes from Cairns to Perth.

In them at last the ultimate men arrive

Whose boast is not: ‘we live’ but ‘we survive’,

A type who will inhabit the dying earth.

And her five cities, like five teeming sores,

Each drains her: a vast parasite robber-state

Where second-hand Europeans pullulate

Timidly on the edge of alien shores.

Yet there are some like me turn gladly home

From the lush jungle of modern thought, to find

The Arabian desert of the human mind,

Hoping, if still from the deserts the prophets come,

Such savage and scarlet as no green hills dare

Springs in that waste, some spirit which escapes

The learned doubt, the chatter of cultured apes

“The Arabian desert of the human mind”Another deep thinking intellectual, Corey Bernardii, who had a taste for literature but lacked the gravitas of AD Hope. Possibly because he lacked a broad brimmed hat like A.D or Barnaby

Which is called civilization over there.

Ave amici

From the recesses of my childhood memories I drag up the word ‘prestidigitador’. It is a seldom used Spanish word which means magician. It can also be used for conjurer and illusionist. It doesn’t take a genius to work out its etymology. Quick and finger from the latin praestus and digitus.

Then there are the political conjuring tricks of the red herring the non sequitur and the furphy, not to mention the not answering the question.

Is Julian Assange a journalist or a traitor? Does he have a hygiene problem? Is he a narcissist? How many cats does he own? Did he rape someone in Sweden? Was the Ecuadorian embassy justified in inviting the British police in?- Never mind the video of civilians being murdered out of a helicopter.

I remember that when I was 14 years old our ship en route to Australia called into the picturesque port of Aden, then a British Protectorate. So is Iran building an Atomic Bomb? Is Bashir al Assad a ruthless dictator and the main protagonist in the Syrian civil war? Is Mohammad bin Salman the crown prince of Saudi Arabia a reformer, as evidenced by Saudi women now being allowed to drive?- Never mind the TV pictures showing the utter pulverisation of no longer picturesque Aden. Never mind that Australian weapons systems are being sold to Middle Eastern clients.

Highly publicised Australian Federal Police raids on journalist Annika Smethurst and the ABC Sydney office have sparked a months long debate on legal protection of journalists and whistle blowers, on freedom of speech, on civil rights versus national security and so on. Never mind that Australian Soldiers may have been involved in war crimes in Afghanistan.

Our Prime Minister Scott Morrison recently attended the Pacific Islands Forum on Tuvalu. The nation of Tuvalu consists of 9 islands with a total area of 26 square kilometres. An utter red herring but the area of the Yuendumu Aboriginal Land Trust is almost 85 times as large. At the forum Scomo refused to cave in to demands from the island nations that Australia should adopt policies to phase out coal mining.  This prompted New Zealand Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern to make some scathing remarks about Australia, which prompted prominent radio shock jock Alan Jones to tell Scomo to put a sock down Jacinda’s throat.  This resulted in a furore which homed in on Alan Jones’ misogyny.  Scomo deplored the Jones outburst and declared “I have two daughters”. Never mind the concerns of the Pacific islanders that their tiny nations might be submerged into oblivion. I really don’t know what they’re so worried about. As that other intellectual giant, our Deputy Prime Minister Michael McCormack told us, the islanders can always come to Australia to pick fruit.

You’ll all recall the Royal Commission into the Detention and Protection of Children in the Northern Territory.  A long debate ensued.  What can be done to reduce the incarceration of Indigenous children? To what extend are these children to blame for having been caught up in the justice system? Have they been sexually assaulted earlier in life as Warren Mundine declared on the Drum programme? What diversionary programmes could be rolled out? And more recently the controversial decision by the Northern Territory government to build a youth detention centre which will replace the closed down Don Dale detention centre right next to an adult gaol, is being debated.
Myself I see no problem with the latter, just think of all the savings when on their 18^th birthday the inmates are smoothly transferred to their new abode! Never mind the images we saw of adult child protectors torturing the Don Dale detainees.

So it came to pass that under the new paradigm of believing the victim, Australia’s highest ranking Catholic clergyman was put in detention, yet we all saw Dylan Voller tied to a chair wearing a spit hood and having his trousers pulled down whilst held down by his protectors and no one talks about the unnamed torturers, who were just doing their job.  No detention for them.

Remember that scene in A Fish called Wanda when a family walks in on naked Archie Leach (John Cleese) in a flat he isn’t supposed to be in? When it turns out that the family knows him, Archie exclaims “Ah, that’s all right then!”

Don’t fear if you hear
A foreign sound to your ear
It’s alright, Ma, I’m only sighing

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mYajHZ4QUVM

Bob Dylan- It’s all right ma (I’m only bleeding)

It’s all right then, Prime Minister Scott Morrison has two daughters.

Te visurum

Cicero

We couldn’t land at Broome and had to settle for the Pilbara.

Dear reader, we’ve been a hell of a long time getting back to Australia. We were gonna try a straight line to Darwin, but when we asked for landing permission at the port, the kind Chinese on Tuvalu in a not very subtle way suggested that might cost Clarrie his other kidney. And as we’d done a deal, and Darwin port is owned by the very same people, we thought we’d be pushing it. So we had to settle for Broome instead. Lucky, we just had enough fuel to get there. We toyed with the idea of Darwin, but from the expression of the Hong Kong journalist who had vounteered to accompany the Chinese back to the airstrip, we sort of had a premonition. “More Belt, than Road’,  said Ces. And besides, we weren’t too sure how long Sam could guarrantee special rates for the Tuvaluans, at the Star Casino. He’s a canny ex-politician, but as Ces said, “he aint a fucken Magician”. 

We arrived back in Broome, and this is where the story gets really strange. 

it was like JO was STILL running QUEENSLAND!

We left just a couple of weeks ago. But the weirdest thing, and if you’ve ever read the Narnia stories, particularly, the “Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe”, we felt that though we’d only been on Tuvalu for a couple of weeks eating fruit and involved in high level negotiations, it seemed that we’d gone back in time. Issues that were dead when we left were like trenchant contemporary issues. “Like Australia” (Ces opined) “was stuck in the Nineteen Fifties”!

It was like BLACK JACK still ran the Country Party!!!

At first we thought it might be a joke. We know Rupert has a sense of humour and thought that all the talk about re-criminalising abortion must be a joke. Rupert is funny that way. Always likes to turn any notion of libertarianism upside down, cos it gets a belly laugh from old white men. But to coin a Roy Rene-ism, “ Strike me Pink”, as soon as we arrived at the Pilbara, cos Broome beach is off limits to Flying boats cos they haven’t got membership to the Qantas lounge, etc, we were flung in the slammer. Since we’ve been away, any assembly in a mining area, by non authorised persons is tantamount to treason and comes with a twenty year jail term. “Fuck me’! Ces said;  “this is about as much fun as being a bookseller in Honkers”. We all laughed, but then, the very next thing, shocked us. Flung into our prison cell as a sort of wrapper for our pie and chips was a copy of the Catholic Boys Daily. (The Australian)

We couldn’t believe it. The Minister for Energy, calling an engineering group “bedwetters” for pulling out of Adani. Being a bed wetter support group we felt marginalised and victimised. Special police powers to jail protesters in Queensland. “From a Labor Government’ Cec Fumed! “Fuckin Hypocrytes”.!!

The New South Wales governnment cowering to Pro-lifers, and the passing into law an ambitious plan to send boat people to Port Moresby. We all laughed; ‘and they say Dutton aint got a sense of humour”! Sort of like sending a pacifist to a gun convention in the states. And to top it all off, Ces pointed to the headline; “Troops off to the Middle East”.

‘It’s just like Vietnam’, Clarry observed; ‘the BORE war all over again”. 

The only thing we could laugh about was aboriginal incarceration through the roof, and a close second: Deaths in custody. We’d been away.  The world had gone upside down.  But at least one core Australian  value was intact. 

But we couldn’t believe it. The country had changed. Like it was never there. 

“Pinch me now”! Ces cried. We did .. he shouted and hopped up and down. “Fuck me! We aint dreaming, this is REAL”??

it was like SANTA STILL ran the DLP… and they were MORE POWERFUL THAN EVER!!!

“Surreal”! We said. 

And we felt like foreigners.  Outcasts and exiles in our own country. 

Instead of being greeted like saviours who had singlehandedly re-aligned Australias position as a lead power in the Sth Pacific, we were beng treated like criminals. Worse Still… IGNORED!

“Still”, as Clarrie said, comforted by the fact that he still had one kidney and in the slammer, ‘we’re safe, it aint really all that bad’!. 

“And why’s that you sarcastic bastard’? we asked. 

“Well philosophically speaking it could’ve been worse”,

“Worse than what”? we said. 

“I dunno whichever way you look at it there’s telly in the cell, an excercise yard and a pool. 

And we’re better off than them’… 

We looked into the adjacent compound. 

A  conga line of NGO’s queing up to service the Aboriginies in custody. Brand new four wheel drives filling up the prison carpark, 

“We’ve still got our respect’. 

It was like something even worse than TRICKY DICKY and BILLY MACMAHON were still in POWER!

“Respect in what? You silly bugger’!

‘Of principles and the rule of law. And the  knowledge” …..,His voice trailed off as he watched a fly lazilly alight upon the slowly revolving blade of the ceiling fan. A symbol of freedom in these oppressive conditions,  

“Of what? you silly bigger” we sniggered

‘THAT’!, pointing to the aboriginals in cells.

‘There’s always someone worse off than yourself’. 

“Youre DEAD right Clarrie” said Ces softly.

“DEAD”, Clarrie murmured. Clarrie turned his gaze slowly back to the sweaty circle of humanity that was “us”. 

It was like the SIXTIES and SEVENTIES NEVER EVER HAPPENNED!!!

“Yup , they soon will be”. 

When we thought it was a DONE DEAL. Cecil thanking the PM of Tuvalu.

Waiting for the fuel. PCBYCP crew cooking bacon and eggs on the sun-scorched wings.

We‘ve been involved in intense negotiations with the front bench of the Tuvalu Government, (All three of them). We’ve foundered in negotiations because the kind Chinese Government officials who offered to help us, will only refuel the Catalina if we can sign another document. The document implicitly states our endorsement that the people of Tibet and Uyghurstan are delirious with joy since they had re-education.  All Australian Hong Kong Citizens will forget about protesting and go back to where they came from, where they will be processed and re-educated. They know how seriously Australia takes education and thought it would be irresistable. But we baulked.  Because, as we stated previously we’d thrown in the penguin parade, access to all children of senior party office holders to any uni they liked, and platinum room at the Crown, as a demonstration of our bona fides. But we couldnt get the Aussie government to replace Scott Morrison with Carrie Lam. We stated as any fool would know, only Rupert has that kinda clout, and they’d just have to stand in line behind Gina and Twiggy.  But they just laughed, they said they had “the fixer” on the line. We just laughed back at em, and said the “poodle with lipstick” aint got any clout any more. 

We’d arrived at a sticking point. Neither side would budge. Then they changed their negotiation strategy. They wanted Sam Dastyari back in politics. That was all very well, but we couldnt find him.  Last thing we heard he was hanging out with Andrew Robb. On a trade delegation to send used- crims back to New Zealand. Made more difficult by that do- gooder Hardon, (the New Zealand P.M) who keeps telling us how to uphold an ethical high moral ground. “For fucks sake’! we said: “there aint no fucking high ground in Tuvalu to begin with”. . If that aint the headhunters kettle calling the witchdoctors cauldron black.

After off-loading the last of the tinned fruit.

All awhile, after we’d filled their shelves with tinned fruit, (The Tuvalu government have no shame), they just wanted more and more. 

Protracted negotiations are tough. Worse in a tin-pot Pacific island state. In spite of nuclear tests, drug smuggling opportunities and sending boat people to rot on their shores they still want more. And then….it’s hard in the end to know what they absolutely, (after all is said and done), want in the first place. We offerred them the washing machine, the pop up toaster and the latest European appliances but they just wanted more and more. 

Cecil attaches the listening device to the bow of the pcbycp CAT.

Then Clarrie, minus a kidney and half of his liver after negotiations with the helpful Chinese surgeons, suggested from his iron lung, ( The iron lung had been donated by the Australian government in 1975 as a nation building excercise that was destined for East Timor but re-directed when Gough gave the Indonesians the go ahead), that we just piss off in the night on their government launch. We were tempted. We could leave them the Catalina so that they may have the nucleii of  a formidable nation building airforce.  But after deep thought we determined we wouldn’t have a bar of it. It may be O.K for foreign powers to do that sort of thing. But  “we” on principle demand that negotiations with other countries should be rules based. And on a level playing field, or coral atoll.  Its a principle of fair play that Australia is famous for. 

After further talks between the Chinese and the Tuvaluans,  we got down to the nitty gritty.

Offloading the micro wave and the washing machine onto the Tuvalu Govt launch

We had a DEAL. But then, the goal posts had shifted…….. AGAIN!

We were three coconuts short of the bakers dozen, when they said we couldn’t leave till we’d given them a washing machine, a years supply of typewriter ribbons, a micro wave, a jet ski and a Mercedes. We were stumped.  We could get them  a Maserrati Quadraporte or a Lamborhghini in fragrante delecto from some mates who run security at Manaus, (they have connections with knobs in the New Guinea Government). But we couldn’t get the other stuff cos we were outta credit with Transurban.  It was then, that Clarrie had a brainwave.. 

Get in touch with our man in London! 

What the Eff!!! 

And before you could say APEC, he was onto Alexander Downer. 

More of the waiting game. Will the Chinese and the Tuvaluans, accept our final offer?

Alex was an absolute champion.  In just a day we had their government headquarters bugged, and we really knew what they wanted. It was so bloody obvious we smacked ourselves that we’d never thought of it. 

They wanted an option on the Star Casino in Pyrmont, and the same tax breaks given to the Chinese Government. Then, in a stroke of luck we found Sam Dastyari. He works for both Crown and Star. In a flash, the deal was signed, a victory for good Governance, (Australian style), and the Catalina is being refuelled as we write. 

Sitting in the Engineers chair, Cecil, chuckled, “Ok Boys, next stop Tuvalu”. We pissed ourselves laughing, cos as you all know a Catalina is an amphibious aircraft. 

We were so relieved! We thought they may have wanted a say on something really important to Australia.  Perhaps the biggest single plank in the Coalitions policy Cupboard. 

Casting off! Ungreatful buggers! Next stop Vanuatu!

like………….Franking Credits. 

They love Pineapple, because they love QUEENSLANDERS!!

A Store Shelf in Tuvalu. Envy of the lesser Pacific Nations.

Due to some unexpected difficulties, we’re still on Tuvalu. We haven’t been able to secure the fuel for the Catalina as anticipated as the stuff we had to sell, (the complete Shakespeare, Tristram Shandy’s “Life and Times”, our entire repertoire of Charles Trenet 78 rpm LP’s and a signed copy of the late Minister for Armaments Christopher Pyne’s autobiography) failed to illicit much interest from our Chinese friends. In some frustration we are hoping, (in consultation with our friends from the Property Council) we can sign a release form granting them first option on Phillip Island as a staging point for the Belt and Road initiative. Chinese surgeons were on hand to speed the negotiations, scalpel in hand “two kidney’s or one?” they asked, and thankfully Clarrie sacrificed a few non-vital organs as surety.  We may have erred on the side of caution, but a lifetime entry to the Penguin parade, and koala enclosure is prized amongst senior party officials intent upon advancement. After the formalities we gave a splendid rendition  of ‘Advance Australia Fair’ till we realised none of us knew anything beyond the first verse.  

We have also been promised the fuel will be  forthcoming if we approve in writing as “accredited journalists”  a repudiation of Hong Kong Citizens rights, and an acceptance that Taiwan is forever China. We looked on our Jacaranda Schoolboys Atlas, and couldn’t find the bloody country. So figured it wasn’t worth worrying overly much about. And besides, in this part of the world, countries all look the same. 

TWO LEADERS. Both Revered in TUVALU as GODS!!!

If ONLY, they could be more like US and show some gratitude for the money we dole out to them.

Still,  it’s been an excellent opportunity to get to know Tuvalu. And the more we  wandered the one main street we concurred it was quite right for Scott Morrison as the elected head of Australia to ignore their plea for climate relief. The fact is, when we went to the only supermarket, a tin shed and awning between two coconut palm trees, we were greeted with a cruel reality. The shelves were half empty, we asked then why? And they said , that the only thing they stocked was tin fruit. Apparently, and this’ll surprise you, is that the locals after they’ve finished picking fruit, send case-loads of tin fruit back to their homeland as a kind of payment. Its an admission they’re not the full bottle on money management. And that the Australian Government kindly pays them in tinned fruit rather than the Basics Card, cos they’re not REAL Australians. Fruit is currency in these parts. Cec joked “jeez, they’re a banana short of the monkey”, and then we pissed ourselves the way we used to when “Goodsey” was on the field. 

It symbolised  the important role Australia plays in keeping their economy, (whatever laughingly passes for an economy) going. You see all the working people are picking fruit in Queensland and along the Riverina. There’s hardly anyone left but a few old buggers and some kids who haven’t learnt to piss off yet. 

COCK BRAND!… Very popular for worshippers of dieties, and frontbench VISIONARIES!

We had to paint this Queensland Sheila a deeper shade of Guava so she’d appeal to their local customs.

That’s what Scomo demonstrated leadership on. And Mr McCormack, the leader of the Country Party, (they still refer to it as such) is a bit of a hero. Sort of a cargo cult status figure. At the souvenir shop they sell effigies of Mr McCormack, whom they refer to as the “Big Mac’*, and when we enquired further, they produced Barnaby Joyce effigies made from Australian sun-dried tomatoes. They explained in Pigin, that they thought he may come back, and like the Yanks during the war they’d be showered with cargo. They believe in cargo, and they said in Pigin, ‘like Australia they just dug up stuff, produce nothing,  and hoped to be rained upon with advice from Real Estate Agents, white goods and stuff from Bunnings’. They had great hope in being airlifted en- masse by the Australian government. They said the last time Australia was interested in them was when they kicked the Japs out, and when they airlifted them from a nearby atoll when they detonated atom bombs for their own good. They quite liked the aeroplane ride, (being primitive people) and their faces beamed with anticipation when we told them we used our native people in atomic testing also. “It annointed them (as flora and Fauna) with the benign hand of Civilisation”.. That and religion, to make them shameful of their lonely and isolated position.  A bit like global warming and sea level rising is a consequence of their laziness, their intransigence and their deserved allotment as  acknowledgement from an all consuming loving GOD! Who for all intents and purposes probably looks a bit like Barnaby. 

The Chinese Airfield looks a lot like the old HMAS Melbourne. it’s even got a “bow-hole” like the one the Voyager made. Uncanny!!

Still, we had to move out of the Catalina yesterday. The pier we’ve tied it to is under water.  Found some high ground, the Australian High Commissioners tent, which is almost underwater.  The kind Chinese men are building an international aerodrome for the natives which looks a little like an Aircraft carrier. They explained that all modern airfields look like aircraft carriers.  So that they (the natives) can watch people arrive and be connected to the world outside. It’s touching to see nations pulling together to make simple peoples lives more enriched. Like the nice men form Rio Tinto who arrived the year before, in search of precious minerals.  There were none, just useless sand and coral, and they left for East Timor, where the Australian Government has set up a level playing field for business. That’s the benefit of being in a global economy, reciprocity and respect. And as we laughed: ‘a decent pair of gumboots would also help”. 

• Not to be confused with “Big Mack’ ( Frank Macmanus former leader of the DLP)  who’s spiritual presence still guides  the Coalition. 
  

  Scott Morrison’s “Hello Colin moment”

Hola amigos,

Together with then Prime Minister Kevin Rudd, Twiggy Forrest launched the Australian Employment Covenant.  Twiggy obtained 253 business signatories pledging support of the Covenant.  Twiggy’s ‘Generation One’ undertook to employ 50,000 Aborigines, but as the two-year deadline approached only an estimated 2,800 jobs had been provided.  At the time, in a Dispatch I opined that ‘Generation One’ relegated all preceding Aboriginal leaders and elders to Generation Zero.

An item in Monday’s news informed us that under the Business Council’s ‘Raising the bar initiative…’ some of Australia’s biggest companies have committed to buying $3 billion in supplies from Indigenous companies.

It is in Eduardo Galeano’s ‘Las venas abiertas de America Latina’ – The open veins of Latin America that I first read the term ‘Industrial Infanticide’

Recently the Yuendumu Mining Company which I tried to manage, finally after having survived half a century, had to throw in the towel.  Like countless other Aboriginal owned organisations it fell victim to Industrial Infanticide.

It has me wondering who will benefit from this latest expression of munificence from the captains of industry.  I think ‘raising the bar’ is the last thing these few surviving enterprises need.

Chubby Checker- The Limbo Rock

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q6U-FBNSc_8

Hasta pronto

Franklin

The Pcbycp Catalina arrives at Tuvalu for the Forum

Dear reader, it is not often we get invited to a major summit. It therefore came as quite a surprise when we received from the Prime Minster of Tuvalu an invitation to  attend the Pacific  leaders summit. We were puzzled as to why we were invited to such an event until we realised, it was probably as a consequence of the recent trip we took as a team building exercise in the Whitsundays.  Clarrie threw an empty  bottle of Passion Pop over the side with a note attached. It read, ‘ whoever receives this is to be rewarded with a replacement full bottle and entitled to a lifetime subscription to Esquire magazine and a carte d visite  from the publishers of pcbycp. In a word . Who could resist? And besides, Clarrie is the ‘full bottle’ on the  Pacific Islands. He was at Lae when we kicked the Japs out and has real scars to prove it. 

Scomo prepares for the Mardi Gras. Everyone likes to get Lay’d in the Pacific.

It was half the fun in just getting there. We couldn’t afford entry onto the press jet that departed Canberra  and instead had to charter a Catalina. And if you know anything about Catalina’s they take an awful long time to get to the destination. We also bought along our float. It was our intention to drive the float at the opening of the summit, and declare our commitment to taking action on climate change. The float was ingenious, a papier-mache island in a Clark pool, (toddler Size) with a dirty great ice-block in it. The idea was as we toured the float up and down the main street, (Tuvalu has only one main street) the ice would melt and the little paper mache island would go underwater. We knew with the international press, we’d get good coverage and as a consequence, would be very rich. 

After arriving we unpacked the pool and the island and waited for the festivities. There were lots of photo opps, all these people dressed in lais, and all the nations of the Pacific, hanging out and drinking daquiries outta coconuts. The delegation from  China was here and were halfway onto putting us in a compound for re- education till we told em this was not their sovereign territory,………………………….. yet. 

Scott Morrison spoke about Australia having a brilliant track record in killing eco systems and native people, and he laughed when the P.M of Tonga cried about loosing his own  people.  Scomo Shrugged, and said,  “GET OVER IT!. A real test of leadership.  We applauded. And when he said, “is it too much to ask for a COLD beer on this island” we hi- fived till our hands hurt.  

Could’ve been much more fun without a KILLJOY!

Still, he showed compassion and promised not to visit new Zealand till after they’d got rid of their lefty PM Jacinta Hardon. 

Sadly, it was when the pacific islanders threatened to blow the proceedings up with an unexploded piece of ordnance left over from the Bikini Atoll business, that we decided to pull out the float. But the fridge had broken down, the cart had flat tyres, and the papier mache island was just a lump of goo. 

All up, a bit of a fizzer. 

Still it was good to see Strayla stand tall on principle, and telling little nations to get stuffed. 

They’re all dis, cos they don’t have Huge reserves of COAL!!

It  made us proud. 

We’re staying in Tuvalu, just as long as it takes to sell off some items to these nice people from China and pay for the fuel . Cos Catalinas don’t run on kava alone 

Aloha, (as they say in the classics)