Dear reader, another scintillating insight from the one they call ‘Frank’. In this one, he tells us what a boon the criminalisation of the entire male indigenous population by the criminal justice system and private enterprise has been for the NT economy. One may then pause to reflect on the shocking consequence of the fall of Kabul, the curtailment of free enterprise, (multi-national corporates) in siphoning rivers of gold from the governments represented by the “Coalition of the willing”. Hopefully they too may find opportunities for their staff and shareholders in the further opening up of the NT, (another place of occupation) to the wisdom of corrective and coercive actions in CIVILISING subject peoples. We live in hope. In a departure from our hands-off editorial position we include details of how to purchase Frank’s compelling tome.

Frank writes;

Amigos,

¿Y a mi que? (‘See if I care’ or the new generation’s ‘Whatever’)
My Yuendumu Story has slipped down a notch in Red Kangaroo Books’ best seller list. Mustn’t complain, it is still amongst the top five, way beyond my expectations.
Signed copies are still available from me:

F. Baarda ANZ Alice Springs-
BSB 015881 AC 550272713
$40 incl. postage (Please advise postal address)
Am told it is a great lockdown read (won’t argue with that)

Vincent Namatjira’s illustrated children’s book ‘Albert Namatjira’, the story of his great-grandfather, is one of the books that are selling better than mine.
Ever since I saw this (which featured in a previous Dispatch):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xeh380qdqZU

I became a Vincent Namatjira fan and don’t begrudge him in the least streaking ahead of My Yuendumu Story.

Another writer/performer I was a huge fan of was Spike of Wooloomooloo. Who could forget the Black Piston of Afrika in Puckoon?

I saw an interview with Spike once in which he told of his adventures in liberated France at the end of WWII. He’d been assigned as driver to a British officer and they found themselves at the advancing frontline when they came upon a squad of German soldiers with their hands up. “What do they want Milligan?” “I think they want to surrender Sir” “Tell them we have no facilities” So there he was waving them away saying “Shoo shoo!”

Not long ago I accompanied a friend to the Alice Springs Gaol where she was delivering some clothes to a prisoner who’d been slated for early release. All parking spots outside the gaol were taken up by prison staff, construction workers and visitors. The gaol was full and next to the Youth Detention facility they were constructing a huge $24 million additional facility.

It looks like they’re triaging early release to make room for the next intake of prisoners.
Incarceration in the Northern Territory has almost overtaken construction of facilities. When it does, they’ll have public servants standing out front of the gaol waving at the constabulary bringing in their latest catch- “Shoo, shoo, we have no facilities”

…They won’t build no schools any more, they won’t build no hospital, all they’ll build will be prison prison….

We sincerely hope the Taliban can enthusiastically find public partnerships and multi national agencies to further grow Afghan prisons after the withdrawal of western powers. One can only hope the integrity of “world’s best practise” prisons may be maintained and improved on a per annum basis to consolidate ‘public safety’ post intervention in the N.T.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Z3sVa9SJkI Lucky Dube- Prisoner
Adios,
Frank

Ms. Cunthorpe, our tea- lady. Cruelly defiled in our Nations Parliament by an un-named, predatory penis weilding oppressor..

We return to our saga, Ces and Quent frog-marched by arguably Australia’s most powerful woman Sophie Mirabella into the subterranean labyrinth of discarded postwar nukes. Like the National Broadband, though they were obsolete upon installation, and installed, (with bonuses and entitlements to the swelling corps of politically appointed senior managers) at great expense, the question remained, were they still active? 

Though the object of their quest, the rehabilitation of their stalwart tea lady Ms Cunthorpe and the penis wielding oppressor who so basely defiled her as a parliamentary intern is ongoing, the heroes, to their last breath and last shilling are determined to see it through. Will pluck and determination be enough to assuage the fate that awaits them? 

Is that the drums of war we hear ? 

Find out in the next radioactively inclined episode.. read on….

We turned to ‘The Colossus’, whattayoureckon Ben’?,

Understandably, like the nukes buried at Maralinga, the Lucas brand’s distinctive design was light-years ahead of it time. Basic Black made it difficult to find in a black-out.

Ben looked at us, and said, ‘I dunno, Lucas electrics is way outta my league. Anyway the serviceman gave me this docket to prove they were ok’. 

He handed us the docket, we looked at the date.  ‘Ben this says August 1965, are you aware how long ago that was’?

‘Yep a fair while, but they’re good to go, is was high quality Australian sourced uranium we done the conversion to plutonium you know’. 

Ces hesitated, ‘did maintenance’? The maintenance man give you this docket’? 

‘Nup, I got it off the courier’.

‘What courier? 

‘The one that gave me the bitcoin and the co ordinates to the usb’s I buried in the garden’. 

‘Which garden’? Ces was getting agitated and Ben seemed blithely unaware of the clear and impending danger. ‘It’s the garden we tended outside the SAS barracks Perth, the one we used to have the strippers help us with as we trained in the oriental arts of Ju Jitsu’!

Maralinga Scientists trialed the new ‘Nuclear Moped’, but were unable to find a relable radiation shield for users.

‘Look here Ben, I don’t care what oriental arts you’ve practised on Her Majesty’s service, ( Ces said this with emphasis hoping that he may jolt Ben into the seriousness of the situation at hand)  but you’ve got to focus. Are these batteries requiring recharging? I’ll get to the point, are the detonators, kinetic, electric, magnetic or heat sensitive’?

Ben paused for a moment, he was locked in deep thought, to emphasise the level of thought he was rubbing the surface of the V.C which he kept on a lanyard round his neck. Clearly it was invested with special powers. After a prolonged pause, with the silhouette of Sophie waiting as she puffed blue smoke rings into the void Ben scratched his head and put his forefinger to his chin. Like Barnaby Trump trying to catch a thought bubble in the back paddock he was hell- bent on finding an answer, that’s what the SAS are trained to do, to show initiative and intelligence in a tight squeeze.

This is it!! (we thought), This may yet turn things round. 

‘Dunno’, Ben said phlegmatically, ‘her name was Paula, she was a bit of allright, but it wasn’t Paula who went to Afghanistan with us, it was some other sheilah.  The one with the big’……..

Lucas also pioneered an innovative range of alternate colour battery designs for the Nuclear Age under the “Gay” banner.

‘Jeez Ben , what kind of detonator’? 

It was no use. 

WE were getting nowhere! Ben was full of military intelligence, but tellingly none of it made any sense at all…..

Will Ben be able to use his high level training and top level military intelligence to get our heroes out of this imminent big bang? 

The range of aplications for Lucas was breathtaking, yet failed to match the Qualcast for durability and reliability.

Will the big-bang be a fizzer? 

And will they ever find out who had a go at Ms Cunthorpe, (our dedicated tea- lady) whilst she was selflessly serving as a parliamentary intern? 

Trials with Qualcast for a Lucas electric starter were unsuccessful, it is believed as many as 5% of users suffered cardiac arrest through the (widow-maker) pull-start mechanism. A successful innovation by RAN will enure Lucas capable pull start on all machinery of the ‘le merde attack class submarines on order from France.

Find out in our next implausibly explosive episode; ‘Detonate a date with Destiny”, or “A naked Twister aint a real Twistie’!

Dear reader, another telling insight from our scribe from the distant north west. The man who goes by the name of ‘Frank’, “el Franco” (for our Spanish readers) and ‘Der Franken’, (for those amongst us who are familiar with germanic languages), and ‘Le franc’ or those who vouchsafe the great traditons of ‘lettres francaise’.

Craig Kelly a proven performer now custodian of ‘STRONGER FUTURES’ with Clive Palmer.

Tellingly Frank gives us a description of his first impromptu meeting with the former backbench envoy for stripping workers of entitlements and superannuation, climate-denialism and rat-baggery the Rt. Hon Craig Kelly, before his principled alliance with Clive Palmer. It was Craig who shouted out, “you call this music’? during the recital at the Melbourne Concert Hall.

We hope in his new role as Clive’s anti-vax conspiracy deputy he can do more heavy lifting on the political circus front to ensure that franking credits, fear and xenophobia win over imagination and principle at the next Federal Election.  Frank, no stranger to the machinations of the moron-ocracy may beg to differ…..read on…

Hola amigos,

“… muerte no llega con la vejéz, sino con el olvido…”
“…death doesn’t arrive with old age, but with forgetting…” wrote Gabriel García Márquez in his ‘Carta de Despedida’ (Letter of Farewell)

Clive Palmer, defender of the mega-rich, oppressor of good governance, crusader of the faith, (Queensland) etc, etc…

In 1987 we visited La Alhambra in Granada. I can remember standing in a room built by the Catholic kings after the Moors retreated. In this room you could whisper into the wall and you could be clearly heard by someone standing at the opposite corner.

A similar acoustic miracle was performed by whoever designed the auditorium of Melbourne Town Hall.

A long time ago I sat in a mesmerized audience in the Town Hall enveloped by beautiful music. In the distance in the middle of a large stage sat a man on a chair creating the sound.
The man was the Jimmy Hendrix of Spanish classical guitar, Andres Segovia.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sdaPoUNk5R8
Recuerdos de la Alhambra played by Andres Segovia

Barnaby Trump, Trumpet blower for Coal, Queensland-ish values and short-termism.

In mid performance, suddenly in the fourth row a man stood up shouting loud abuse- “You call this music?” and expletives I won’t repeat. Segovia stopped playing and you could hear a pin drop as Segovia silently stared at the man who retreated with his tail between his legs. For what seemed like an eternity, Segovia’s stare followed the man out of the building and only then did he resume playing and the audience exploded into loud applause.

Craig’s, Clive’s and Barnaby’s God-father, Russ Hinze.

When I published ‘My Yuendumu Story’ I did so in the full realisation that publishing success with a few exceptions is ephemeral at best. There are now several hundred people (a higher number than I wasn’t expecting) who have read all or part of my story. I cannot believe that that number of readers does not include at least one person who’ll get up shouting “You call that writing? Porque no te vas a la gran puta Madre que te pario?”, but so far so good, no one has.

I have no doubt ‘My Yuendumu Story’ will end up in Barcelona in that mythic place I was so evocatively introduced to in Carlos Safon’s gothic novel ‘La Sombra del Viento’ (The Shadow of the Wind), namely ‘El cementerio de los libros olvidados’ (The cemetery of the forgotten books). Meanwhile I’m enjoying the flash in the pan and making hay while the sun shines as I embark on Volume II.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d-diB65scQU
Don’t worry be Happy-

Rus, knocking back a few tinnies after a Segovia recital, Bundanyabba RSL c. 1975.

Chau,
Frank

Minister for ‘Black-face’, Matt Canavan

Dear reader, hot on the heels of Matt Canavan and the member for Higgins Katie Allen’s superb proposal during the Covid catastrophe to investigate going nuclear, (proof that even in the height of the Covid crisis lobbyists are hard at work) we find our heroes in the middle of nowhere surrounded by ancient nukes, ‘a gift from HM Government to the Commonwealth of Australia’. Ces and Quent believing they’re inactive have bided their time by following the ‘Big S’, Sophie Mirabella on a final tour of the underground labyrinth. Unbeknown to them the nukes are far from inactive, but primed and ready to go! 

Will they go off faster than the Coalition’s carbon policy? Or will they, (like the Prime Ministership of Malcolm Turnbull) be a fizzer? 

Minister for ” pretending to represent the progressive side of conservative politics” Katie Alllen

Find out in the next radioactively inclined episode, ‘a switch in time’, or five minutes for a short stroll in midnights garden’.

 read on…

That’s when Sophie led us to another antechamber and along a slowly declining tunnel. (geologists and mining enthusiasts refer to as a de-cline)  We trudged behind her.  Behind the lot of us loomed as ever, Big Benny Boy. 

She led us past the trove of unexploded Atomic Bombs, all labelled ‘a Gift to the Australian Government. From H.M Government Great Britain’. 

Having recovered from the realisation that it was not Gina there to light the fuse but her hand maiden in terror Sophie, we knew that our time had run out. This walk will be our last, and it was comforting in the very least that Australia’s bravest and most decorated soldier ‘Benny-boy’ Roberts-Smith would be there with us to the end. “Who dares wins”, as they say in the classics… though we didn’t feel much like winners. 

While the rest of the world opted for NUCLEAR, Australia was guided by the Austral Villiers self- propelled mower.

We paused in front of the middle nuke, deftly stencilled ‘6’, and couldn’t help notice some wires sticking out of an half open inspection plate, the wires led to a solitary car battery. The car battery was wired to a generator.  The generator looked decrepit, covered in dust, and the nameplate was indecipherable. Out of curiosity Ces wiped it, and revealed the name that had symbolised everything that ‘WAS’ Australian manufacturing in the GOLDEN AGE of tariff protection and the Country Party, “Austral Villiers”,

Ces enthused; ’Jeez that’d have to be an early fifties model at the very latest, you can tell by the Amal carburettor. Dad had one on the ‘Sunbeam Little Wonder Junior’ portable shearing stand. It was an unreliable little bugger at  the best of times. You had to practically stand over it just to keep the revs up. I remember one hot summer, we were herding ewes into the top race and the shearer started yelling as the hand piece flew away with the revs going mental as the governor has frozen at full speed, and the next thing he’s screaming blue-murder as the hand-piece had driven into his groin, and….….Ces Stopped. 

He stood dead in his tracks, ‘What the’ , he ghasped, ‘I say Sophie’.. 

‘I say what’s with these warheads, and the car batteries? 

Why are they all wired up? 

And why are the generators not working? 

I mean do these batteries have anything to do with the detonating devices? Surely you’d keep em seperate If they, (he hesitated for effect) if they were important in not letting the warheads get…. how shall I put it?… wouldn’t that make them unstable’? 

Sophie turned insouciantly to Ces and looked with disgust, “ You figure it out?. We had em wired to keep em live, as we couldn’t afford to separate the detonators as a departmental cost cutting measures. A fully qualified bomb-disposal team and A Grade electrician cost big bucks! 

It was either funding for  Sports Pavilions for Coalition seats pre-election of keeping the detonators charged.  I spose the sports funding won out. Shouldn’t be a problem. I had the top brass in the ADF certify they’re safe’. 

‘Ahh’, Ces trembled, ‘Were they the same ADF top brass who said Kabul wouldn’t fall for another three months’?. 

‘Yep’! Sophie matter of factly replied, 

PM of Pakistan offers SCOMO a limited overs test of compassion for Afghan interpreters and ADF affiliated workers. ( seen here inspecting the specially constructed pitch)

‘The SAME’!

Ces was changing colour; “What then, shouldn’t be a problem?  Are you stark raving mad’? 

Or are you just so blithe about minor technical details, you’d turn a blind eye to blowing up a chunk of central Australia bout the size of Canberra”?. 

Ces said “Canberra” for effect, hoping to trigger her gang-land conscience. But no answer, he tried again, perhaps a more analytical approach would help? 

‘What type of detonators have you got’? 

Sophie pretended to be interested,  ‘dunno ask Ben’?

‘And besides, ( she took another drag of her Sobrani),  if they went off who’d be the wiser? No-one of any influence lives out here anyway’!

‘People of influence’? Ces was staggered, and just stood there. His jaw dropped and gaping incredulity at the callous indifference, At the heart of it, a politician without heart. 

PM declines Imran’s compassionate offer as Australian supplies of ‘Test match-ready sandpaper’ are held up by COVID.

Will Ben know what type of detonators have been used? Are they still active? Will the whole thing go off?  Will Sophie go off with it? 

Find out in our next positronically nuclear episode; ‘Nukes of the never never’, if you aint got a carbon policy, just count to ten and close your eyes’!

Dear reader, 

Frank dedicates his piece to this stunning government brochure, “LMOK” (“Last man outta Kabul’)

Hot on the heels of his recent book launch, the cancellation of the overseas talk show host tour, and the suspension of his three part documentary, ’Acronyms and their many uses’, Frank brings us this stunning piece of research related to the wealth of pubic and private acronyms. Demonstration sure enough of where management-speak and neo-liberalism have got us. And it’s ‘got us’ good and proper, so that the rich may feel  free from the pangs of conscience for criminalising the rest of us who don’t earn enough to avoid paying tax. 

If you’re fed up to the neck with acronyms, this is salvation of a sort, and will allow you, (in the privacy of your covid safe, home, fallout shelter, cell) a fuller appreciation of just how useful they are. 

Incidentally, Frank is himself an acronym for ‘Frankly Real Australia needs Kippers”, which is in itself a plaintive hope that with the new Greater Britain free trade deal, English sourced kippers wont have an attached import duty. A sure sign that in these darkened times there is much cause for optimism. 

Frank is a born optimist, that’s why he’s compiled this list, it makes compelling reading. 

Read on….

Buongiorno amici,

Frank’s book is currently on open access at the Alexandria Library

When I first started to cobble ‘My Yuendumu Story’ together I started a list of relevant acronyms as I had a mistaken notion this would provide clarity. When I started on page three of acronyms it was pointed out to me and it became obvious that the effect of three pages of acronyms as an introduction would have stopped many readers in their tracks. I would not have been showered with humbling and somewhat embarrassing accolades, and it is doubtful I would have recovered printing and postage costs as I have.

Here a sample of what you’ve been spared:

OAA       1967      Office of Aboriginal Affairs

DAA       1972      Department of Aboriginal Affairs

ADC       1980      Aboriginal Development Commission

ATSIC     1990      Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Commission

OIPC      2004      Office of Indigenous Policy Coordination

MTF       2004      Ministerial Taskforce on Indigenous Affairs

FACSIAH 2007    Department of Families, Housing, Community Services and Indigenous Affairs (my favourite)

PM&C    2013      Department of the Prime Minister and Cabinet   

NIAA      2019      National Indigenous Australians Agency

Equally uplifting is the following subset:

CDEP     1977      Community Development and Employment Projects

JSA         2009      Job Services Australia

RJCP      2013      Remote Jobs and Communities Programme

CDP        2015      Community Development Program

And wait for it… the latest from NIAA…

ISEP       2022      Indigenous Skills, Engagement and Employment Program

Hallelujah!!! That’ll fix it!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pRhjWdr-LAA 

And for contrast – asking the gods for pula (rain)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tAV6B5JrFtU&list=RDMM&start_radio=1&rv=pRhjWdr-LAA

Fino alla prossima volta

Francesco

PS- Something to read in lockdown- ‘My Yuendumu Story’ is still available- advise if interested and I’ll send you bank details etc.

Please note all feedback on this Google Group is confidential. Only I get to see it.

The PM was to launch the book but is working on a thought bubble within the ‘Canberra Bubble”. We the editors of pcbycp are catatonic with anticipation.

And a postscript, he has provided us with tis snippet from YOUSE-TUBE!

Good morning,

The best start to the day is a healthy laugh.

A dispatchee advised that she worked for the Emerging Indigenous Entrepreneurs Initiative

Acronym EIEI….

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_6HzoUcx3eo

Chau

Frank

Flashman’s memoirs, considered greater than Roberts-Smiths iconic, “Tossing a wop off a cliff”!

Dear reader, you’ll be glad to know that in light of the Federal Government’s ‘warp speed’ determination in evacuating Australian personnel from Kabul, (after it has fallen to the Taliban) we recommend you read other fabulous account of evacuations from other places that have fallen. 

Foremost is Flashman’s memoir on the retreat from Kabul in which (once again) allied intelligence falls somewhat short of the mark. 

Wing commander Reginald Fortherington, DSO (and bar), ”I almost got away ‘ describes in gripping detail his attempt to escape from the lido lounge at Maxims in late June 1940. And not to be outdone, Lord Plitheroe Potheringtons , (late of the Royal Scots Dragoons) epic drama, ‘Last gin at Raffles’, describes his brilliant plan to escape the Japanese after the fall of Singapore. No attempt was made, but his sequel, “Not so bad under the rising sun”, details the hardship of stingahs and watered-down and corrupted third-tier Gin in the officers lounge.  But enough of evacuating and all credit to the Feds for doing what they do best, ‘NOTHING’, until the crisis has swept all else in its sway. We dedicate this next piece to all who must feel the need of “evacuation” before its too late. A word of advice from the editor; “avoid over spicy food’ 

Only known colour daguerrotype of Flashman

As you may recall Sophie wanted to show us something before we were knocked off! 

Ben Roberts Smith (right foreground) leads the Singapore re-enactment at ‘AWM- World’, (a subsidiary of Disney- Corp)

By this stage we were past caring, either to be done-in by ‘Benny-Boy’ Australia’s most decorated soldier or just liquidated by ‘Dutto’ made no difference, we were finished. And in a way quite happy to be just bumped off. As Ces said; it’s like a bad tele-drama that never arrives at the punch-line! We were written into it. And had no say in the proceedings’. Still, obeying Sophie’s command and with Benny-Boy in tow, we were led to a door. A lift seamlessly took us down into the bowels of the earth. It was eerie, and deathly silent and when we did emerge, we were ushered into a chamber carved into the bare rock. We could feel the heat of the earth and surmised we may be kilometres down, and with Benny and Sophie our only companions, this was a vision of hell, without the inferno. Not Dante’s but Nev’s inferno cos it was probably powered by ‘Clean Coal’ and part of the ‘Gas- Led Recovery’. 

Ben Roberts Smith re- enacting Flashman’s heroic struggle “bit hard to get witnesses now the Taliban has taken over”

Adjusting to the darkness, we dully obeyed, ‘This is what I wanted to show you two boys! I think you’ll get a laugh outta this’! And pulling an impressive set of skeleton keys from her garter, she fiddled with a lock, ancient and rusted, that hung forlornly from an ancient metal grill. This inner chamber held us in a sense of foreboding, because in spite of the deathly quiet, and the musty residue, undisturbed for decades, there was this pre-sentiment of evil and just perceptible the dull ticking  of a clock, that reminded us , with the minutes slipping past that, ‘our time was nigh’. 

‘In here’, and Sophie motioned us into an alcove. Above us an old computer set up with reel to reel tapes, and a switchboard carved into the solid lock still whirred mechanically.  A solitary fan whirred in a St Vitus dance of lethargic melancholy, whilst Sophie, driven and intrepid as ever, punched a key-code into a panel, and one by one lights, began to flicker, and in due course illuminated another vast chamber, with row upon row of lozenge shaped vessels. 

‘Take a look at these beauties boys, believe it or not you’re about to make history!

We’re not sure if it’ll work, but with you blokes the ones to set it off, we’ll get a pretty good idea, Who says Australia aint nuclear?  The poms left a dozen of these for safe keeping, Since 56, they’ve been sitting here all along. 

We realised they were all good ol 1950’s nuclear devices, left over by the poms.

‘Retreat from Kabul”, re- enactment courtesy of the Federal Governments ‘Climate in-action group’.

We could tell because adjacent to each device a crate left as it was when the devices were placed in cradles proclaimed, ‘Gift to the Australian people from H.M Government’. 

Sophie saw us looking at them, Ces was counting, ‘seven, eight, nine’, he paused and scratched his head, ‘eleven, twelve, there’s a full dozen’, 

‘Yeah’, Gina enthused; ‘it’s the gift that keeps giving! No wonder I’m an ardent royalist! 

‘If it weren’t for these beauties I’d still be a shit-kicker backbencher for Indi!  I’d be as welcome as Prince Andrew at a Girls school. Those ungrateful bastards, they’d wish they’d never ever heard of Kathy McGowan and those snivelling little independents! I’ll give em a dose of  independence they’ll never forget’!

” Repelling the hordes” new interactive display at ‘AWM- World’ depicting sovereign borders standing up to another round of abject failure in foreign policy.

‘Well boys you might as well know it, this is my special place and this gift, the poms left in a bit of wasteland that not even the Abo’s would give a toss about, is about to become my very own sacred site. Not even Rio can do what I’m about to do, and by the grace of God Im gonna fucken do it. Whaddayou think boys’?

 ‘I think you’re mad’, Ces  exasperatingly blurted.  I said ‘steady Ces she’s just a little bit more colourful than the others’. But Sophie was in full force; ‘Well I’ll tell youse, this is my manifest destiny, and for all of you and the indiginies who are never happy, after all we’ve done for you, this’ll teach you to be grateful!!

Can the electorate of Indi ever feel grateful? Will Aboriginal Australia feel grateful for all we’ve done for them?  Will President Xi and Angus ever recognise Sophie as the TRUE LEADER? Will Barnaby come to the rescue and save is from the nemesis of a carbon free future?

The sad retreat of ADF personnel from Kabul under the “National Flag”, (currently being trialled by Crown executives in recruitment drive)

Find out in the next tangentially implausible episode “Sophies Joyce”, or ‘Three Quoins in the Fountaine’

(Arguably) the most powerful woman in Australia stands firm on ‘FAIRNESS’!

We return to our next  thrilling episode as our heroes Ces and Quent confront the real most powerful woman in Australia. Not the ‘Big G’, but the ‘Big S’. Sophie Mirabella,  could it get any worse? Find out if you dare. Read on….

All along we’d been mistaken. It was something much worse.  We thought we were slotted for an audience with Gina. But It was Gina’s chosen factotum, her mouth-piece, her protagonist, her orchestrated and finely crafted ‘TOOL’. For there, in a uniform bedecked with medals , ribbons and insignia, jackboots firmly fitted, a riding crop and the officers cap bearing the insignia of the Totenkopf Viking Division, with oak leaves, diamonds and swords the most powerful ex-politician to have strutted the global stage. The former Member for Indi, the former Minister for Industry and Technology in the Abbott Government, Sophie Mirabella. 

(Arguably)the most powerful woman i Australia stands firm on ” Hose- Holding”!

Sophie looked us up and down, and dragging on a Sobranie tastefully attached to a black and gold tipped extender she blew a perfectly formed smoke-ring in our direction. You had to hand it to her, she was no oil painting, but for what she lacked in nature’s gift she more than adequately compensated for in sheer physical presence! She took another drag, and then adjusting her monocle made the casual remark;

‘Well boys,  ya took yer time. And I gotta tell youse, Gina’s unhappy, 

And Barnaby’s said you have just two choices if you wanna live. 

And before I declare execution, tell me this, what are you gonna do about it’?

What were we gonna do about it? 

We had no idea, but to fInd tIme, to stall, to procrastinate, obfuscate and confabulate, to do anything to get us out of this mess, and woo the evil countenance before us. A woman if you could call her that, made of armoured plate, glass and titanium alloy!

ON INTERNATIONAL JUSTICE!

Seeing our obvious discomfiture, and perhaps in reflection of her new status as a Fair Work Commissioner, she almost seemed, ‘conciliatory’. Clearly she was trying to be more human, only time could tell just how human that ‘Human-ness’ was meant to be. 

‘Ya know, I’ve got a bit of a party celebration for you. And I think you’re gonna like it. 

And I gotta tell you boys, just like Gina I like things to go off with a bang’!

Ces perked up; ‘But where is Gina’?

‘On business, In way out WEST anything GOES’!

‘Can we ask where she is then’? 

‘Yep i’ll tell ya, ’In China with Xi, Working on the carve up and Australia’s new dawn as a protectorate of’, she looked reverentially to the photo of Xi, ‘Of Mother China!!!!’

ON STOPPING BOATS!

Ces and I were exasperated, was there no-one in or out of Australia who wasn’t ensnared by the Chinese Government. With Angus clearly directing operations we understood his requirement to monetise his paltry parliamentary entitlements, but this, was just too much.  Ces decided to make a stand on principle, scratching his head for a thought he held both hands out in supplication, “ Surely Sophie, your conscience would sway you, there are millions of Australians who will just be chaff to your whim. Countless lives cashiered on the crucible of your will, and millions of younger Australians who will be cut adrift from the ladder of opportunity! To never being able to buy a house, be educated, get on in life, is this the future of Australia you really want’? 

Sophie squirmed, it almost seemed for a moment that pangs of conscience had triggered something deep within her.  Perhaps as Fair Work Commissioner there was now a nuclei of compassion stirring within her? Perhaps she was not all fishnets, jackboots and monocle? 

ON MATESHIP!

Alas we were mistaken!!! She began to convulse, and then unable to contain herself began to laugh, and the laughter became a caterwauling convulsion of pent-up emotional angst.  The laughter became maniacal and then convulsive. The monocle fell out and the sobranie tipped to the floor. It lasted or almost an entire minute and then gathering herself, she laughed, between tears; “COMPASSION’? 

‘Ladder of OPPORTUNITY’? 

Listen BOYS, There’s only one thing my time in Parliament taught me and that’s about POWER! Without POWER you are FUCKED! Angus has shown me this much, and Xi  has proclaimed it as the only universal law that matters!! And until you two understand which side your bread is buttered you’ll always be mere prawns!!!

Ces muttered; ‘don’t you mean pawns Sophie’?, 

“Nup PRAWNS!, Xi loves em and he’s just bought out the prawn fisheries  as a Chrissy prezzo for his wife. Who just happens to be, (she paused for effect) …’GINA!!!!!

ON STICKING THE BOOT-IN WHEN MATES ARE DOWN!

To say we were pole- axed by this recent revelation would be an understatement more pathetic then the Federal Governments vaccine roll-out. Ces and I were dumb founded.  Was there nothing that wasn’t for sale? ‘What about integrity, and the inviolate bond of the human soul’? Sophie heard us; Mate get it into your fucken thick head, it’s SOLD! SOULS have all been SOLD! If you don’t believe me ask CARDINAL PELL’!

‘And I should know cos I’m a fucken FAIR WORK COMMISSIONER!!!!

‘Now boys enough of this twaddle I want to show you something, before you leave us’!!

ON turning a BLIND EYE and a DEAF EAR on the voice of REASON and COMPASSION!

Show us something? What did Sophie want to show us? Was it decent? Would this be our last showing? Could it get any more grotesque? Find out in thus next thrilling episode, “ A well directed jack-boot to the testimonials”, or “ Don’t come the raw prawns with the cold crustacea’

Barnaby Trump

Dear Reader, hot on the heels of the intergovernmental panel on climate change confirming that we have ten years to avert catastrophic anthropomorphic climate change, its encouraging to know that our Deputy PM Barnaby Trump is bellowing, : ‘Show me the figures’!

This is a source of great reassurance for us at pcbycp as it shows nothing changes and you cant keep a good man down. As a refresher, we wish to give parental advice for this despatch as it demonstrates a hopelessness in keeping with the wisdom of Barnaby Trump. Something about the cost as distinct for the value of things. Look where it got Oscar Wilde?

Frank writes….

Hola,
When my family left Argentina, I was twelve years old and had a twelve-year-old Spanish vocabulary. When Spanish ceased to be my quotidian language my Spanish word acquisition slowed down considerably.
The latest Spanish words I’ve added to my Spanish vocabulary are ‘gaviotas’ (sea gulls) and estelas’ (stelae). The latter also added to my English vocabulary.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cHQXBuQTwow

It was in Yuendumu that I learned the Spanish word ‘burbujas’. When preparing a freight list for the Yuendumu Mining Company I would ask Gloria “Necesitan burbujas?” We supplied Warlukurlangu Artists with wrapping paper and bubble wrap.

In Australia lately there is much talk of the ‘Canberra Bubble’. We in remote Aboriginal Australia consider we are dealing with ‘Canberra that other planet’ rather than a mere burbuja.

Barnaby feels a ” thought bubble coming on’!

Living in Yuendumu sharpened our ability to decode euphemisms and read thought bubbles.

When we first arrived in Central Australia, camped along the Todd River in Alice Springs there were groups of Aborigines from various communities, playing cards, sitting around campfires having a good time and often drinking and fighting. This didn’t look good to tourists and was seen as a threat to the ‘tourist dollar’.
The authorities would refer to the need to ‘clean up the Todd’. Their thought bubbles read: “we need to shift the drunken Abo’s out of sight from the visitors”. Over the years they managed to clean up the Todd. They did this by enforcing ever more regulations and using the blanket and swag police.
The Todd River is definitely clean, but nowhere near as interesting.

Often when we’d mention we live in Yuendumu we’d be asked “and what do you DOO out there?”, a rather silly question when you think about it. Such inquiries would usually be accompanied by a thought bubble: (what could people possibly do in such a dysfunctional and dangerous community?)

Barnaby and ‘the PM for hose-holding’.

When we’d mention that we have lived in Yuendumu for several decades, the incredulous stare would invariably be matched by a flashing neon light thought bubble. Most of these thought bubbles would fit one of four categories.
The ‘Mercenary thought bubble’- (They must be making a shitload of money to stay there that long)
The ‘Misfit thought bubble’- (They probably couldn’t hold a job anywhere else)
The ‘Missionary thought bubble’ (How brave, noble and devoted they must be trying to save the natives from living a life of primitive depravity)
The ‘Madman thought bubble’- (They must be stark raving bonkers)

Barnaby, hard at it , straining a thought bubble’.

The realisation that there are quite a few people who’ve lived here all their life and if they’re more than 48 years old, have lived here longer than us, does not occur to them.
They are not capable of reading our thought bubble- (This is a great place with great people. We love this place)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xarRSIyjzxM

Our very own Mrs Culthorpe, a saintly woman destroyed by ” THE SYSTEM”!

Dear reader, what a pickle our heroes are in, with the defiling of Mrs Culthorpe, just a memory, they find themselves waiting for an audience with ‘Big G’. Though they have an inkling it could be Australia’s richest woman, there seems to be an unsettling fear, that their travails are about to get ‘travailonsterous’. Will this be their final act? Final curtain? Final solution? (we are indebted to Katie Hopkins celebrated UK ratbag and our very own Fraser Anning for this term) . Find out in this next blistering episode, and hold fast.

The Brisbane Line in the 40’s was sponsored by White King and CSR, for a ‘Cleaner Whiter Australia”!!!

As we stood there surveying the enormity of the operation before us stretching in all directions as far as the eye could proverbially see, an announcement came over the Tannoy; ‘New projects, I want section twelve through to fifteen in the operations room at five ack emma, all other stations stand by for an important announcement from section leader’. 

Then, just as soon as the hubbub of white noise stopped it  re-started as an enormous screen lit up the centre of the Operations Bunker.  Before us the northern portion of Australia was shown divided between Brisbane and Broome, the announcement both in English and Chinese, proclaimed the “New Nine Dash Line” then under a series of sub-headings fragments of other mineral rich and water resourced portions popped up with headings “ acquired” or “to be acquired”, and an attendant portrait in gold and red of Angus Taylor. Each time the portrait and another fragment appeared under the new title ‘ANOTHER GLORIOUS JAM- LAND HOLDING’ , the thousands of operators all cheered mechanically from their standing position. 

The Japanese had their own Brisbane Line which excised the ” Useless bits” to the local indiginies.

The location of the Ord River Scheme  was of particular interest. More dashed lines denoted which fragments were  to be entirely privatised and jointly divided between Angus’s jam-land, and ‘Twiggy Corp’.  It didn’t take a genius to recognise who the owner of Twiggy Corp might be, and you’ll laugh; ‘guess who’s the managing director of the entire operation’? The Big A!

So we asked the question, ‘Hey Benny-Boy’ who is the woman behind the curtain’? We could tell with the light through the curtain and the silhouette, this was not arguably Australia’s biggest and powerful woman but a much smaller woman who loomed large in silhouette, with what looked like a riding crop and a pair of exceptionally high-heeled boots.  We knew they were high heeled boots cos we’d been to plenty of Alexander Downer’s tea parties when he was Foreign Minister. With Alex in the mix, as witness K would tell you; ‘we were up against a pretty well connected dude’.  But who was she? It was disturbing not knowing, and yet tantalising in spite of the fact that her identity, once revealed would result in our imminent expiration. 

‘I dunno, Benny who is it’? 

‘I dunno, ask  Barnaby’, he scoffed, 

‘Howsabout your mate Dutto’?

‘Nup mate, warmer’, 

‘Allright then’, l  said;  ‘a ballsy woman, howsabout Susan Ley’? 

‘Nup, nor the sheila that runs the office for women, Nup, not balsy enough. C’mon fellas I thought youse was informed, we’re talking about the ballsisest ball breaker this side of Maggie Thatcher’, 

We were imperilled, if we got the answer wrong, Benny would throw us back into the swirling vortex of raw sewerage, to be converted and fed back to Canberra’s whole food community as tofu. 

The Nine Dash Line, not to be confused with the Brisbane line, or the GSEACPS, (Greater South east Asian Co- Prosperity Sphere) though with similar aims. Principles currently guiding ‘the intervention’ and ‘clothing the gap’ federal policies.

Benny laughed, ‘

‘Jeez , this is as much fun as throwing a wop bastard off a cliff and the pluggin him just to be sure’, 

Ces  laughed, ‘that’s what I like about you Benny Boy, you’re always focused on the rewards, after this little mission, your spot on the AWM is guaranteed. I’m sure Brendan’s thinking of a whole gallery just devoted to you’, 

Jeez, I wonder what it’s gonna be called’? 

Ha ha, it’s gonna be called “ Inside the Fat-Lady’s arms,’ we thought, you’d like this,  we’d get Marise Payne to open it up’, 

Hahhahhahahah, Ben was convulsed with laughter, bet that’s  the only thing that’s ever opened her up ever’!!

Benny- Boy laughed until it hurt, 

GINA’S Powerful Inner Circle!

Ces and I stood back shocked at this infantile demonstration of schoolboy Chauvinism. Clearly Benny-Boy was a St Kevins Boy,  and contemporaneous to the very core of the low level humour championed by these titular figureheads of Australian mainstream values. Good thing it was dark, cos they couldn’t see us blush. It was in a word, ‘Unbecoming’. 

‘Allright then’, Ces had had enough, preferring scatalogical immersion to the tedium of Angus’s puzzle, a trial by ordeal in the very ordeal we all felt as taxpayers financing his mate Nev, and Big COAL. 

‘Allright then’, Ces splurted in exasperation Howsabout the ugliest person who ever strode on the floor of parliament’?, 

‘It’s yer last chance boys and it aint George Christensen’!!, 

Ben grinned evilly. 

Allright then i’ll give youse a clue, what’s your reaction when I say her first name is ‘Sophie’?

GREAT WOMEN and OUTSTANDING PRINCIPLES!

You could hear a stiletto drop. 

‘Got it in one, Soph is the gal who’s working with us to secure the biggest deal in corporate history! Just the sight of Sophie on the board of the Fair Work Commission has set back Arbitration to the Stone Age. She can do the same for the taxpayer, and not be worried about what you call ‘ethics and personal responsibility’  That’s what we like about Sophie, there’s no heart, just opportunism, That’s why she’s our kinda gal.

‘I’m ready for ya BOYS!’, and with a swirl of the fabric, there emerged Australia’s (arguably) most powerful woman! And sure enough it was Sophie Mirabella!

Will this really be the final curtain? Does the fat lady sing? How much weight has Sophie put on since working with Gina? Find our in our net Graeco- Australian tragedy. ‘A sophists choice for Sophocles’, Or ‘Sophies sward of Damocles’!