A a stop-gap before delivery of U.S nuclear subs in 2525, the RAN is trialling a miniature nuclear sub developed between CSIRO and Qualcast, “The Blowfly”

Dear reader, just when you thought it was safe to say “Submarine’ we return you to our subterranean episode of international intrigue, systemic corruption and the labyrinthine cloak of secrecy that confronts our heroes Ces and Quent.

We promise more on the  Coalitions cabinet deliberations later. 

The “Blowfly’s’ sophisticated controls and stealth technology make it truly “cutting edge”. All Blowfly’s will be Qualcast and Villiers capable, improving and up-grading intra-service operability. Note carefully concealed control mechanism powered by LUCAS ELECTRICS!

As you may recall, Ces and Quent, held at gunpoint by Australia’s most decorated soldier, (EVER) Ben Roberts Smith, and the most powerful woman in Australia, former member for Indi and now exalted Fair Work Commissioner Sophie Mirabella have imprisoned our duo. To whit they find themselves tragically surrounded by seemingly inactive pommy nukes, left over from the first nuclear age.  Sophie in an explosive bit of emotional angst has glanced a nuke with an Argyle diamond 24 carat 500gm ring (a gift from Gina) and set one of em ticking. With only moments to spare Ces an Quent must find a way of de- fusing the nukes and then try the one one in a  million chance to  escape from the clutches of the most villainous, nefarious, manipulative and powerful woman to face the Nation’s Parliament.  The excruciating irony being, they only wanted to find out who defiled their tea-lady on secondment to the Nation’s Parliament as an intern Ms. Culthorpe. With the P.M’s office closed to questioning in the national interest, and the top military man, the one they call ‘Dutto’ pulling the strings, they discover there are bigger strings to pull. None stringier than those plucked by the ‘Man of Energy’ and Christian Porters temporary replacement Angus Taylor. With connections to the man they call ‘Xi’ and the nations sovereignty at risk from an assault more devastating that 1788, our heroes are poised on the precipice. 

Will they escape? 

Will we survive as a peoples, if they don’t?

And does anyone else really care?

Find out in this next detonative episode… 

CVSIRO are currently developing a ‘Nano- technology” Blowfly drone, completely submersible and powered by tried and tested kinetic energy power storage systems.

We return to the moment with the clock ticking Ces spies a few old bottles of Purple Para, and flagon of McWhilliams Cream Sherry. 

Ces shouted with emphasis, “Drink you bastards, drink for all it’s worth”!, And handing both myself and Benny a bottle he urged us as he set to work on the McWhilliams Cream Sherry. 

Favoured tipple of choice for the nuclear conscious Maralinga set in the 1950’s

What could we do? With the sound of the mechanical  impeller drawing the firing pin closer to the detonator there was only one thing to do? We drank. 

Surprisingly it wasn’t too bad. That was the fortifying thing about Australian ‘Golden Era’ fortified wines. It’s hard to tell whether they’re off or just improving, and to tell you the truth the Cream Sherry wasn’t too bad. Mind you we were a bit thirsty, but pausing mid gulp, Ces remarked, “Jeez, before wine there was Purple Para and Cream Sherry and I wonder if things were simpler then”?

Benny paused mid gulp and opined, “ yeah back in them old days if you wore a V.C your integrity as a human being was unquestioned’? 

I added; ‘and just for being an ordinary unassuming average bloke your were lauded as a great hero of Australian Culture, like Chesty Bond, just for being average’.

‘Or Ming’, Ces added

in the 50’s nuclear dining was all about style over substance.

‘Shut your fucking mouth and drink or I’ll plug the lotta youse’, Sophie fumed, and seeing her with the AK 47, the one Benny-Boy found at Tarren Kowt, we obeyed.  I’d nearly finished my Purple Para and then before you could say ‘detonate’, Ces commanded; “now Sophie would you mind averting your mince-pies, cos we boys have a job to do’!. 

Sophie reacted, “we’re in a equal opportunity environment, and whatever you do I will do also’. ‘Yes Sophie, but it don’t think you quite understand’, 

Ming demonstrates to LBJ, the significance of cinque ports and other fortified wines.

‘What? HOW DARE YOU!! That’s typical patriarchal clap- trap! Just the sort of crap I’d expect from you LIVING FOSSILS!  What is it you think I don’t understand? How dare you, that you two have thwarted my plans for global domination!! I understand that much, and you will shortly DIE for crossing me one too many times. Which bit then do you think by your leave, (Sophie added for sarcasm) I may not comprehend,? Is it the man-splaining I’ve gotta put up with every time you open your filthy gob? Or just the posturing you men-babies need in order to to feel superior?  

‘Fer Chrissakes Sophie, it’s none of that, you just don’t need to know what we’re about to do’.

‘And why’s that? Which piece of secret mens-business am I being discouraged from? Don’t you understand as a fully accredited member of the bench of the Fair Work Commission, on my paltry 450 k, entitlements, super, overseas study-tours and federally funded stipends I have a right to know everything? 

Top Secret shipments to Maralinga were disguised as manure spreaders to outwit the KGB

‘Allright then’…Ces fumed, you’ve been warned. 

Ces knew that time was running out, and commanded the three of us, (excepting Sophie) to concentrate on the inspection cover which had been removed from the steel chamber containing the pommy nuke. ‘Allright boys, now concentrate!! See the impeller? We all peered at the whirring device. ’See those two wires and the coil’? We could see dimly the wires connected to the Smiths clock, and the coil, proudly labelled ‘Lucas’. ‘When I give the word, we go one by one, and I want you to piss on the mechanism. And be DEAD ACCURATE about it!  It’s our only hope. 

Just then, the clock gained tempo and the impeller, engaged a camshaft, which moved the striker back and readied it upon the very next revolution for the impact upon the detonator. We had literally less than seconds left. 

Will our heroes get out of jail this time? Or will they be beaten by the clock. Find out in the next detonatingly  Damoclean episode, ‘is that a ticking time bomb or are you just pleased to sue me’?  or ‘two ticks and a tock is a tick too far’.

Dear reader, once again, we entice you with another fragment of Frank.

Sophie’s bench? Perhaps for services to “slut- shaming”

In this one, he gives us another anecdote about his father.  Father’s are curious in that way, and, (excuse the pun)  the farther they are from us (in the mortal sense) the closer they become, as reflections are beamed back into our subconscious from the void of unknown. We asked the P.M about ‘the unknown’, and he referred us to Christian Porter’s blind trust, and the rationale for putting Sophie Mirabella onto the bench of the Fair Work Commission. We agreed with the P.M that there is no reason nor rhyme to explain what is ‘unknown’ cept to accept that “God works in mysterious ways’.

It’s a comforting thought and perhaps explains why Angus Taylor is still on the front bench also. Megan Markle, (aka the Duchess of Sussex) has recently written a book called “the bench”. Could this be a reference to Angus and Sophie? Another case of the unknown? Or as Donald Rumsfeld was fond of talking about; the ‘known un-knowns’. Buggered if we know?

Meghans bench, for services to returned servicemen from Afghanistan who achieved ‘a helluva lot’ after twenty years, which we can’t quite put a finger on.

Frank writes:

Dad’s disciplinarian school masters often verbally or physically abused their students. They had a high status in society, were well paid and lived in flash houses.

Herr Hübers often threatened his class with the prospect of becoming Ritzenschiebers. Whenever the tram tracks got twisted, a team of Ritzenschiebers, armed with crowbars, would straighten them. “If you don’t do your homework, you’ll become a Ritzenschieber” “What a class of dummies you are! You’ll all end up Ritzenschiebers” and so on.
Thomas was the class dunce. Herr Hübers would often pick on him: “Thomas, Du bist so dämlich…was soll aus dir noch werden?” “Thomas, you’re so stupid! …What will ever become of you? …”  “RITZENSCHIEBER! Herr Lehrer!” “A RITZENSCHIEBER! Sir!”
German tourists and visitors to Yuendumu have never heard of Ritzenschiebers.

Some of Dad’s schoolmates in Oberhausen (less than 10 Km north of Mülheim an der Ruhr)
, after they decided not to become ritzenschiebers.

Young Ira a BHP Science Prize winner for converting kitchen appliances to atomic energy became the poster boy for Australian Nuclear research on the 50’s

Dear reader, this came to us from our foremost correspondent form the near north-east Ira Maine. Ira, who is still denying responsibility for the earth shattering 5 on the Richter scale earthquake, (allegedly he was experimenting with his Junior Scientist Chemistry set upon secondment to the AUKUS treaty partners in determining likely Australian adaptations to the ‘Opium Wars Class’ Attack Nuclear Submarine programme) he had time enough to compose this masterful piece of limerick. 

The Chemcraft No.1, Ira’s own commercial brain-child was adopted by the Yanks, whilst his acceptance before the Australian Government languished with other “Far- Fetched” proposals, Solar energy, indigenous recognition, separation of church and state, etc…

Though limericks have variously been described as low-brow, smutty and superficial by the likes of our Poet laureate, Sir Rolf of Harris, they are still required in times of crisis as a moral boost for those suffering long covid or blind trust funds management fatigue (BTFMF). 

So give yourself a moral boost and enjoy this wonder about British pluck and stocicism during the darkest hour, in which;  ‘even the white bits were dark’.  

He writes..

A lady who came from St. Kitts,

Survived the entire London Blitz,

When she fell down a drain,

Found a sack of cocaine,

The Lab technician set for girls was altered by specialist intervention by the P.M, and re-marketed as the ‘Hearth and Home Domestic Duties kit’. Popularly sold through Amway connected pentacostal churches.

And spent the rest of the war off her tits!

We are indebted to Frank for this piece as it maintains a sense of cultural relevance often lost to us in our Nation’s step into the ‘Nuclear Age”, and we’ve tried to match Frank’s original illustrations with similar.

In this piece Frank suggests that crime, and what constitutes a crime may have something to do with maintaining the Status quo? We at pcbycp are deeply confused, so is the French Government.  ‘plus ca change’, as they say in the french classics.  Frank writes…….

 

Доброе утро товарищи

Towards the Precipice of Climate Change

 A mutual friend alerted us to each other and we exchanged our books. I’ve just finished reading Jenni Greenham’s ‘A Cloudy Path’.
I found it to be a great read.
If you thought reading ‘My Yuendumu Story’ was worthwhile, I’m sure you will find Jenni’s book both informative and enjoyable.

“…Jenni soon recognises the mismatch in the expectations of the Aborigines and our education system….” Need I say more? Both our books are from the same songbook, but are very different songs.

Police wear black to stand apart from the citizenry who pay them

Throughout the world the stick is gaining ascendancy over the carrot. Right from the beginning of the pandemic we had our Prime Minister wagging a finger at us and telling us naughty children to behave. A bit later, who could forget those 500 policemen encircling the 3000 residents of a couple of public housing towers in Melbourne? Using the same ratio that would be equivalent to 150 policemen surrounding Yuendumu.
So is this image from Hong Kong, where countless protesters were dealt with for breaking the law?
(Their crime? Commemorating a massacre.)

No, this photo was taken in Sydney. Armed police dealing with law breakers (Their crime? Protesting the stick)
It makes you think, how would the vaccine rollout have progressed if the carrot had been used instead?

Assault rifles instill fear and respect

Which brings me to another topic, the incarceration of Indigenous Australians. Whenever this is discussed, there is the chorus of “Oh well, if those Abo’s insist on breaking the law, what can they expect?”
They are ignoring that one way to increase the crime and incarceration rates is to bring in more laws and to tighten up enforcement. You needn’t look very far to discern the fundamental truth of this maxim. Australia’s Immigration laws are a case in point. With bi-partisan support the Australian Parliament has managed to turn refugees and asylum seekers into law breakers that need to be punished.

Thank goodness for the little boys who discern the nakedness of Emperors. One such little boy is Darwin Lawyer John Lawrence-

I’ll let him shout for himself:

https://arena.org.au/the-aboriginal-gulag-the-northern-territory-criminal-legal-system/

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1s2Nqn9PCGs

Meanwhile, because of some personal problems I won’t burden you with, I’ve been reading the Aboriginal Land Rights (NT) Act-1976. Not exactly scintillating reading, but then there is “know thine enemy”.

Smart Black uniforms have always been a symbol of a cowered and coerced citizenry kept ‘SAFE’!

AUKUS Cybernetics and CSIRO are trialing the very first semi autonomous ” Public Safety” drones, mutants and cyborgs.

So, what do I discover? Under the radar, the Act is being “reformed”. Under the guise of empowering Aborigines, greater power is given to Land Councils which are (and I’m saying this ‘without prejudice’) de-facto arms of Government.
The biggest elephant in this “reform” room are the new clauses which will make Aboriginal Land “more bankable”. I don’t have the details but it is my understanding that in Canada there is a whole generation of Native Americans who have inherited run down houses which are worth less than the attached mortgages.

Just as well we refuse to give up our sense of humour. Sorry, nothing funny in this Dispatch. I promise to think of something in the next one.

 До свидания

Real promotion and fabulous salaries for those have the capacity to ‘turn a blind eye’.

Frank

Will we ever know who stumped up the cash for Christian’s legal fees?

Dear reader we return to the crisis facing our heroes, stuck deep down and dicing with death and no un-seen donor as befits our former Attorney General to lift them out of the existential crisis, of graft, corruption, vice, and just another day of standardised and acceptable corruption in our feral, ( was to be Federal, but feral seemed more apt as a descriptor) parliament. As you. may recall,  Sophie was desperate to stop the nukes from going off, whilst Ces and Quent tried to find a way out that didn’t blow them all to smithereens. The saga continues….

 ‘But what’s that got to do with us’? Ces asked

Sophie replied with all the casuistry and skill as befits a former legal practitioner “Well technically, at Maralinga, you’re in a theatre of war’,

‘This is all sounding a bit theatre to tell you the truth’,

‘Life IS theatre, I should know’! Sophie guffawed, 

But first things first, Stop the fucking ticking. 

Why couldn’t anyone in parliament stump up cash to pursue the penis- weilding oppressor who so cruelly defiled Ms.Culthorpe?

It was cathartic, there we were laughing at the ridiculousness of being lined up for a Queens Birthday honours as we were about to be blown to smithereens, and our get out of jail card before us, just to stop the ticking.

Ces had one last question; “Will our OAM be a higher tier one than just the average, Cos a lot of people just get em for doing their job, and de- fusing nukes was never on our job description’?

‘Yes anything you bloody want, I’ll jump to it and see you get the same one that was given to other great Australians, Dyson Heydon, Sir Rolf….. Ron Brierley etc’, ( the list was endless, once again Sophie captivated us with her capacity to memorise minor details, in this she was in perfect sync with the P.M for Sydney who was all over little things and short on the bigger picture)

‘Oh, Quent pipped in, ‘Can I  have a DSO and an M.C with Bar on top for services to Manufacturing’? 

‘Yes anything, just stop the bloody ticking’. 

Allright then, but the ticking all of sudden got louder, 

Does Scomo know anyting about it? Wisely, he’s hand- balled responsibility to his mate Phil. That’ll bury it!

‘We have to shake on it’, Ces demurred.

‘We haven’t got time’! Sophie bellowed, and then grabbing the AK47 from around Benny-boys shoulder, the same one with the electrical tape that had been used at Tarin Kowt, she levelled it at us, ‘I’ll blow you to bits unless you stop the ticking’, 

‘Makes no difference we’re stuffed anyway, you’ve gotta shake’, 

‘Allright then’, Sophie proffered her pudgy hand, and we shook, ‘NOW FIX IT’!

Could Her Majesty have chipped in? She’s looking after Andrew’s legal issues.

The ticking grew louder, there was a dull methodical certainty about it, and as Ces and I inspected the shell, we noticed an inspection chamber. We unscrewed it gingerly and looked inside, it was a clockwork mechanism, and the word ‘Smith’s’, famous for clock-ware anywhere in the Empire gleamed back at us. But disturbingly, we noticed the impeller, was dangerously close to what looked like the detonator, and the screw shaft that rotated was pushing it dangerously close. We knew in that instant we only had minutes, and there was no simple way of de-fusing the device with just a Philips screw driver, and a bottle opener, the only tools we had. Benny-boy was no use, though his back-pack bulged with rifle-grenades, tear gas, sub machine guns, claymores, 3 inch and 2 inch mortar cartridges and a belt or two of 50 calibre, there was nothing that could be used to stop the clock. 

Sophie was by this stage inconsolate, ‘Hurry, this is your last chance’ . 

Ces looked closely at the clock-works and breathed an audible sigh, “ it’s got above it, in plain english, ‘This nuclear clock is powered by Lucas electrics’! We may yet see light when all else is deathly dark’! 

Barnaby and the Coal lobby?

Ces and I perspiring with the inevitable, gave each other a reassuring hug, and searching for inspiration, benediction, even the spirit of Bob Santamaria was not gonna help us in this, the  last few moments, till catching his eye, Ces noticed a dull glint of glass in the corner, behind one of the nuke cradles. There was just a chance, a small one , but then the only one worth taking. Pointing to the bottles I rushed over, and sure enough, left over from the fifties a half drunk flagon of McWilliams cream sherry, a bottle of Purple Para and a dusty bottle of Blue Nun. Flipping the corks, and wiping the top of the dusty bottles Ces shouted ay the top of his voice, to Benny and I , “Fer  fucks sakes Drink, and drink as fast as you can, and when I tell you, do exactly as I ask’…..

Or Gina? These Westralians can be cliquey in case you didn’t know.

What has Ces in mind? Will-it be enough to stave off nuclear obliteration? Will it be last drinks at the pub beyond the black stump? Or will it lead to the last big Wee of the Never Never? Find out in the next compelling episode, ‘Too late to tango’?, or  “Tango foxtrot and we’ll all be Charlie’s’. 

Accountability? Try searching for answers? The P.M knows nothing about what happened to Ms Culthorpe. Nothing to see here.

Dear reader, as you may recall, our heroes, Ces and Quent have found themselves in an un-winnable situation, in pursuit of the villain who defiled our tea-lady Ms Culthorpe whilst she was on secondment as a parliamentary intern. Tragically their enquiries had been blocked at every turn by those in power in our National Parliament who for one reason or another either have vested interests or acute necrosis of the brain which makes finding the culprit an impossible task. But as fate would have it, with all the subterfuge just part and parcel of Angus Taylor’s reach, with links to the Chinese Communist Party and the the man they call ‘Xi’, they find themselves stuck with Angus’s nefarious hench-person, none other than the irrepressible Sophie Mirabella. 

Stuck in the stygian gloom of an underground nukes bunker left over by the Poms at Maralinga, Sophie’s explosive personality has led to one of the nukes ticking. Is this the last tick of the clock? Or the tick that breaks the atomic clock’s toc? Could our heroes become a catalyst to Chinese Espionage? Tick-Tock or Tock- tick? That may well be the question. 

Accountability with conviction? Gladys knows nothing about what happened and forgot to renew her membership to the Wagga Gun Club. Nothing to see here.

Find out in this radioactive episode, as we reveal the full measure of Sophies ambition, for Australian industry, the world. And how she parachuted onto the front-bench of the Fair Work Commission, with plans to topple both her leader Angus, and ultimately the fortunes of Xi. Is her ambition stoppable?, read on.. 

‘Do something’! Sophie screamed, ‘fer fucks sake’,

‘If the fucking thing is ticking it can only mean one thing, It’s not entirely governed by Lucas electrics’, Ces replied, and qualified, ‘so it aint all dud’?

‘Precisely you Tool’!!! This was more than we expected from Sophie, we knew she was to convert us to atomic particles, but she hadn’t figured in being part of the party. 

‘Don’t just stand there, you know all about Lucas Electrics, the stuff that makes ‘Qualcast’ mowers, and ‘Cooper Sunbeam little Wonder Junior’ shearing equipment work. This is the same technology’, she pointed hysterically to the amplifier, ‘as this Pye’, and pointing to the far corner, ‘the AWA, and the Astor that made Australia Great. Fer fucksakes do something, and stop this bloody ticking’.

‘How long have you got’? Ces enquired. “This could be a twenty four hour clock’

Accountability for Job-keeper gifts and unlimited access to taxpayer funds to the big end of town? Angus and Josh know nothing about what happened EVER! Nothing to see here.

‘Or perhaps a twenty four hour clock that’s run through its cycle’, piped in Benny-Boy, (arguably, Australia’s most famousest and decorated soldier) in which case we dunno if we have minutes or perhaps hours till the big bang’. 

‘You’ll get a fucken big bang if you wont stop this’, screamed Sophie who was clearly hysterical, ‘Stop the bloody thing and I’ll grant you a wish’!

‘What? A trip to Disney land’? 

‘Anything, just stop the bloody thing’. 

‘Allright then, I’ll let you in on something, fix the bloody thing and I’ll let you go, on one  condition’, 

We laughed, Sophie, arguably Australia’s most powerful woman giving us conditions, 

‘And what’s that?……

‘You keep quiet on my masterplan, and I’ll give you a cut of my empire’,

‘Which part, a possie of the Fair Work Commission bench’?

‘Nah’, she laughed derisively, 

‘A Queens birthday honours gong’

‘What for’?

Accountability to Parliament during a crisis, and open ended contracts? Mr Wu has prorogued Parliament for the duration. Nothing to see here.

‘For services to the veteran community’,

‘Which veteran’?

‘People, like Benny and Brendan Nelson, who are unemployable now the gloss has gone from the SAS’. 

‘But they killed un-armed civilians’, 

‘That’s inconsequential’, 

‘Why inconsequential’?

‘No one of significance was hurt and besides, it was in a theatre of war, and it doesn’t matter anyway, cos as they say in the classics, winner takes all’ 

‘Winner? Who’s the fucken winner’?, 

‘The businesses that im a principal state holder of, Black Rock, etc, etc, (Sophie began to reel off a list of al the corporates who had made squillions outta Afghanistan in which she had a direct interest via contacts made in the mining industry and through Parliament until she recovered from the  demonstration of her extraordinary capacity for the minutiae of pay-back, kick- backs and golden parachutes learnt and tested in service to the Australian people )

‘You will be if you can stop this bloody bomb from going off’!.

Accountability for what goes on after hours? Nothing to see here. Our Ms Culthorpe in happier days outside our Nations highest office.

Will Ces and Quent win in the end? Or will it be phyrric victory for all of em? Find out in the next historically challenged episode, ‘Try and stop a stopped stop-watch’?. “Or  the watcher’s watch on the Rhine? Or two Rhine-maiden’s in the hand is a headache for Wagner’. 

Dear reader, another one from Frank.

PM’s Fathers Day Jet, tasteful and discrete.

In this post, Frank makes an observation upon parked planes and incarceration. We apologise for the publication of this post so late in the week as we had hoped to publish this piece on Fathers Day and make reference to the selfless acts of ‘NATION- MAKING’ by our P.M. On the fire-front where he does everything but hold the hose, on the vaccine roll-out where eschews undue haste. For women assulated in the Nation’s parliament, (who are told to be grateful for not being shot at for protesting).  And Climate Change, (to which he works tirelesly on Clean-Coal) he’s hard at it as the P.M for Scott Morrison and his cohort of ‘True Believers’. To trust in God, Her Majesty the Queen,White King and the lobbysist who may provide him with a egregiously well paid sinecure post parliament. We hope it’s a job with the Christian lobby who did so well among others with Job Keeper.

Frank wrtes…..

Goedenavond vrienden,

My mother had a head full of Dutch sayings which my sister absorbed and regularly reminds me of. Such as:
Doe niet zo gek, doe maar normaal, dan doe je al gek genoeg – Don’t act so crazy, act normal, as that’s silly enough.

Just as Closing the Gap evolved into Closing the Gap Refresh and the New Closing the Gap and Global Warming evolved into Climate Change, and Corona Virus evolved into COVID-19 and now the Delta Variant, so too Normal is evolving into the New Normal.

For a brief flash in the pan when the Corona virus started its exponential spread, the denizens of polluted cities were able for the first time to see the stars and the mountain ranges after those incubation vessels stopped cruising and those aircraft stopped flying.
The price to pay? You could no longer go to Venice to swarm all over the sinking city and piss off the locals. You could no longer get on the piss in Bali leaving huge carbon footprints all over the place.

Low humidity makes Alice Springs an ideal place to park surplus to requirement aircraft. This side-line comes nowhere near to boosting the Northern Territory economy like parking prisoners does.

Yuendumu already has a New Normal. A large number of Yuendumu men are parked in gaol. All economic activity and services (except art) outsourced and all decisions imposed from outside.
For the rest of the world, we could briefly dream of a New Normal. A Normal that looked very different to the pre-pandemic Normal of rushing towards the precipice of irreversible climate change. A Normal which put the brakes on runaway capitalist over-consumption and inequity and greed induced conflicts.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LCCiwPEdEpg (Ozzy Osborne- Dreamer)
But no, it was only a dream, the New Normal our leaders are aiming for is not all that different to the Old Normal.
Let’s get those planes flying again and those ships cruising again. Let’s go to Venice and Bali and piss off the locals again.

Tot ziens

Frenk

PS- let’s see what tomorrow brings… …que fue un solo sueño que tuviste (…it was only a dream that you had…)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X7XaeBa9fAY

Sílvia Pérez Cruz – Mañana 

With the enquiry into Ms Culthorpe stiffed until the enquiry into misogyny in parliament report is released in 2525, our heroes must wait, and time waits for no one.

Dear reader, for those of you who’ve been following this saga, and been distracted by reading the extraordinary efforts of the Australian government to leave the poor, the weak, the femininely inclined, the former allies and compatriots  to rot in Kabul, we return to the main game. The story of our heroes forced under the brute force of Sophie and ‘Benny-boy’ to a subterranean cavern beneath Maralinga, and the realisation that Sophies reach is nuclear. They endure a final soliloquy to what could be a bigger big bang! And all of this because as mere citizens, we tried to get to the bottom of who defiled our tea lady Ms. Culthorpe when she was an intern in our Federal Parliament. As you may recall, we return to a cavern full of  pommy nukes and 1950’s Australian wireless and valve technology. 

The Golden Age, when good men knew how to shoot baddies and not just fourteen year olds in an onion field.

Sophie, then, tossing the Sobrani aside before inserting another into the holder and lighting up looked straight through us. ‘I’ll tell you why? You see, this, all of it, was manufactured in Australia before Gough killed it all by taking the tariffs away. This was our golden age”! Sophie waved her arms expressively at the ancient infrastructure. 

Ces interjected, “what’? A load of crappy telly and over-priced stereos’? Sophie would not be diverted, she continued with an icy steel in her voice;

“Once I’d bumped Angus off and that pesky Xi, and destroyed Chinese manufacturing with imports of radioactive cobalt and other precious metals I was gonna re-ignite the furnace of Australian manufacturing from its heyday, and ensure that these names, Pye, Astor, Qualcast and Austral Villiers would be famous the world over.  And the world will tremble from Australia’s MIGHT! Of its industrial might and KNOW-HOW! And kiddies will sing praise to the great progenitor, the ONE that made it happen, the MIGHTY, the IRREPRESSIBLE, the INDEFATIGABLE, the INFLEXIBLE and un-impeachable MAJESTY of …. She paused… ME’!!!

‘But don’t you see Soph’, 

Three great men, ardent monarchists and believers in the boons of CIVILISATION!

‘Excuse me’,( she interjected)  my official name’!, Ces exasperated, reasoned; ‘as a former senator, now exalted Fair-Work Commissioner don’t you see that these nukes may go off sooner than you expect, and any false movement, any knock will be liable to set em off, and we’ll all be blown’, he paused for further dramatic effect, ‘be blown to ATOMS’!! 

I added for emphasis, for my own sake in obliteration of ourselves, Maralinga, the vast reserves of Cobalt and other precious metals, and the fact that in spite of my comprehensive and encyclopaedic knowledge of Australian manufacturing from the golden era, and names that were bywords for quality and durability, the unalterable fact that not even a nuclear physicist could unlock the mysteries of Lucas electrics. Indeed, (upon reflection as the words formed within my subconscious) Lucas, more than anything else, the Fall of Singapore, the Suez crisis, and Ming’s anointment as the knight of the cinq ports could be solely attributed even after the successful testing of nuclear devices in a far flung colony, spelt the end of the British Empire! , ‘Yes’ I added….’To ATOMS’!! 

‘So Fucken WHAT’, Sophie countered, hoping that post Gina she could mix in the more rarified circles of The Sussexes, and the Wales’s and fill the gap left by Harry and Migraine, because above all Sophie was an ardent monarchist and appreciated just how much the monarchy had done the world over in improving the lot of those who use the status quo to garner wealth and influence over the great unwashed, ‘Blown to atoms, but they’ll be on my agency, and those atoms anointed by MY HAND to demonstrate BRUTE FORCE and ALL CONSUMING POWER’! 

The Cambridges are just an ordinary working family

Sophie was on a roll, clearly megatons of nuclear capability just increased her heft, and in this, the final minute of the final hour, she was going to demonstrate to us her ‘Vision’. A Vision which even our exalted PM, who was not only the Prime Minister of Australia, but more importantly the Prime Minister of New South Wales, and of Sydney, and pre-eminently the prime Minister of Scott Morrison.  But not even that was enough protection from the tyrannical and righteous megalomania, ( being a powerful word of Greek parentage) exerted underground and in our presence, by the former member for Indi, now fully functional member of the Fair Work Commission giving us her final soliloquy. As I whispered to Cec’s. ’Spose a final soliloquy has gotta be better than A final solution’? Ces nodded in agreement. 

‘SILENCE’!!!,Sophie Boomed! ‘You think this is the end? That’s where YOUSE, (again we winced), like all of em are WRONG! And soon you’re gonna be DEAD WRONG’!!!

‘ALL OF YOUSE! (we were staggered by her continued use of Union Shop steward argot, clearly as Fair Work Commissioner she’d learnt much), I’ll be outta here, to deal with Angus alone, whilst youse and that bully boy colossus here’, She pointed directly at benny-Boy, ‘can just BLOW’!

Man of VISION! A Great Australian tells us as an unalterable fact that after twenty years, the war in Afghanistan was an OUTSTANDING SUCCESS!

And there in that forsaken chamber we stopped stock-still.  For as Sophie waved her bejewelled hand, and the largest of the Mount Argyle stones,  (a gift from an adoring Gina) on her ring finger glanced the surface of the warhead, something odd happened. It was only the merest glancing blow. As a feather upon a concrete surface, or the touch of a swans neck by a princely hand, a grain of sand, soft- flounced upon the littoral…..From within the steel chamber, the great bomb- shaped carapace of blue-grey steel we listened in acute shock. For from within, with a methodical and metallic sense of irreconcilable certainty, a dull ticking could be heard. 

Sophie, turned to us her megalomania tempered by pure fear, she pointed to the three of us and screamed; “DO SOMETHING”!!!

Pye encouraged men to ‘strangle a sheila at home’, a move popularly endorsed by Australian males ever since….

Will our heroes  be blown to atoms? Will the Atoms, * being old- school British atoms) be E.U or Brexit Atoms?  Or, like the deserving  and hapless allies who helped our noble cause in Kabul be left to rot? Find out in the next radioactively nuanced episode, “ A glance in the dark”, or “ Two Tickets to Kabul, and no returns’!

Radiation sickness, this sign was just put up yesterday….

Dear reader, as you recall we were stuck deep down underground in a bunker with unexploded British nukes left over for the great atomic age of the fifties. Stuck with Australias most decorated and bravest soldier Ben Roberts-Smith and the most powerful, (arguably) woman in Australia Sophie Mirabella. Ces and Quent are worried about the detonators being unstable after all these years. Sophie is worried about missing her chance to knock of Angus and sieze control of water resources, Cayman Island investments and be a front runner with XI. What will happen in this next episode? 

Are Ces and Quents worries ill founded? 

In spite of the fact that Sophie has slotted them for a quick death. Are their future prospects better than a Kabuli airport baggage handler? 

This sign has a Government hotline just in case your organs suffer ‘radiation shrinkage’.

Find out in this next testing episode, read on… Ces asks Benny-Boy a direct question;

‘Allright then, do these detonators need to be charged so as not to go off’?

‘Yep, that’s why they have em wired up’? 

‘Well the who’s generating the charge’? 

‘I dunno, the technician’ 

Well then, who’s the technician?

It’s the one I spoke to you about? 

‘But he hasn’t checked em since 1965’!!!

This sign points to a social evil worse than radiation sickness that can only be cured by liberal doses of ‘White King’ and ‘Bex Powder’.

Ben looked dumbfounded, and then replied rather sullenly; 

‘I dunno, I DON’T HOLD THE FUCKEN HOSE MATE’!!

We then realised, and it came as a thunderclap!

A Pommy nuke being loaded for testing. RAAF technician adjusts the whinge mechanism.

‘So these nukes detonators aint been charged! Do you know what that means? The slightest movement may set them off, or just a minor change in the magnetic field, air density, barometric pressure, humidity, anything’!!! 

Sophie turned to us, ‘I’ve had enough of youse blokes, this is ridiculous, these nukes are safe I have the Ministers word. And besides What’s yer POINT’!!!

‘Which Minister’? we bawled. 

‘The Minister in charge, “the big A”….  Angus’!

Angus!!  We both cried; “You fool !!! Don’t you see, he’s put you here in the hope that you’d set the shebang off. Angus has slotted YOU Sophie.  Sophie interrupted indignantly, ‘Don’t call me by my first name, my offical title PLEASE’!

‘Allright then,  The former Rt Hon Sophie Mirabella member for Indi, and now fully accredited member of the front bench of the Fair Work Commission to dispense fairness and goodwill to all wage slaves who must work for a pittance and then pay taxes to support your egregiously high salary’!!

‘That’s better, Sophie beamed as her credentials were read out, you could tell she was high octane.  Ces continued to reason, though he knew that ‘reason’ was in Sophie’s lexicon, a dirty word, dirtier even than ‘Clean Coal”

‘There’s no escaping from the fact you’ve been duped by Angus! Only you, the bull in the China shop, the putative Taliban in the tea-house would be capable of making anything no matter how inert GO OFF! He set you up! Knowing that only you would volunteer on a mission that covered you, and you alone in glory. And Ces and myself, and Benny-Boy here would be just wasted, Collateral damage to your colossal ego!

L Cpl, Frank Baarda, (19 years) showing acute radiation sickness attributed to eating baked beans sourced from Maralinga.

And we’re the effing meat in the sandwich!!

That’s the joke, only Angus would’ve ensured that the electrics would be Lucas’. 

Ces laughing at the absurdity, ‘And you know what they say about Lucas electrics ‘the GOD of DARKNESS!!!  

Quent mused, ‘yep about as reliable as CLEAN FUCKING COAL’! 

Sophie interjected, ‘and that’s why I need you boys cos you understand old electrics. Youse was born when these beauties were brand new’.  She led us to a console, an array of AWA television screens and above them a Pye speaker system. We almost expected to see a Qualcast mower, but we’d seen enough. This was a real time-capsule, only problem, we were running out of precious time. ‘Sophie, Ces interjected; “Do you know anything about these nukes, apart from their devastating power’? 

Sophie (arguably Australia’s most powerful woman) trials gold- leaf anti-radiation overalls amongst toxic humans.

Will our heroes suffer their last gasp? Will this be Sophies crowning achievement? Find out in the next epoch-defining episode, ‘Not tales for tell-tales?’, or ‘Sophies Joyce’