Dear reader, 

Our trained Semaphore staff are second to none.

We apologise for the tardiness in getting Frank’s latest dispatch to the printers.

We, the editorial department of pcbycp, the thinking persons ‘Global Times’, are sure that after this brief explanation you’ll be sympathetic to the vicissitudes of postage in remote areas. 

In normal circumstances the dispatch is relayed to us via our Wimmera receiving station as morse. The morse transcript is then translated via the enigma machine, (on loan from the AWM’s ‘Glorious men and Women of Anzac WW2 Annexe’) on to plain type transferred to standard letter format. The proofs are the roneoed off and sent via native runner, motorcycle courier and Camel Corps to the respective receiving offices of pcbycp located in undisclosed locations across the state of Victoria. A master copy is then set aside at this ” technology transfer stage” and distributed to outlying receiver stations for storage via heliograph, semaphore and bonfires strategically placed upon places of height under circumstances of ‘favorable prevailing winds’. 

In the field our trained staff de- code messages from Urdu into plain English for transmission to the Signals Directorate for approval.

Ces and Quent out in the field on the Nth West frontier

After translation from Urdu, (for that is the only language our morse telegraphy staff are technically proficient at) a master copy is then sent to the Australian Signals Directorate for censoring and vetting to the general public. One can’t be too sure these days about intercepts from nefarious sources to our North, near north and just from across the other side of the Yarra. In the interests of national security we beg you to print this edition of Musical Dispatches, cover it with bread knife thinly dipped in unsalted butter, (for our metropolitan readers) breakfast marmalade and eat it. 

For a less efficient, and much more archaic method of postage and transfer try Australia Post.

No guarantee of arrival, nor responsibility for lost postage other than a grudging; ‘that’s the best we can do’. And to paraphrase the old Benson and Hedges advert; ‘ Isn’t that all the time’!

Ces relaying messages via Heliograph to ‘Camp Rolfe’ (Yuendumu) whilst translation is interpreted in Urdu.

Frank writes……(from several weeks ago)

Hola amigos,

Some of you have asked me where you can obtain information on the current coronial inquest. It is all available
online at:

https://justice.nt.gov.au/attorney-general-and-justice/courts/inquests-findings/kumanjayi-walker

Including transcripts and live-streaming. Proceedings will continue on Monday morning 19^th September.

Camel Corps await messages outside ‘Camp Rolfe’ Relay station Yuendumu

When it comes to metaphors, euphemisms and irony, I’m no spring chicken myself. I always savor it when I find others using these to effect.

In an ABC (NT) news item Samara Fernandez-Brown is quoted:

“This can no longer be an argument about ‘a few rotten eggs’… at some point we need to inspect the chicken creating those eggs”

Signals Directorate staff vet volunteers prior to intensive training course in Morse, Heliograph and Semaphore.

Samara was referring to the text messages exchange between Zac Rolfe and some of his colleagues which Zac’s own barrister described during the inquest as “patently racist and abhorrent”

Not for me to proceed with a lengthy opinionated analysis of the inquest proceedings. I’ll confine myself to suggesting you look up the meaning of the idiom “enough rope”.

Meanwhile I have once again witnessed a manifestation of the boiling frog analogy or death by a thousand cuts. The transition from village (community) to town to urban service centre.

Native Runners, kept in traditional holding bay at ‘Camp Rolfe’, prior to transportation to NT Prisons

When I went to pick up my mail, I spotted a pile of bound mail “Oh, I see the mail hasn’t been sorted yet”, “No, that is mail being returned” Unclaimed mail is after 30 days returned to sender. That is the rule.

It is now two decades since these were the sort of conversations that took place (in English or Warlpiri): “Do you know this person” “Yes, she’s gone to Nyirrpi and will return soon” or “Yes, he’s moved to Ntaria for good”. “Hey, there’s a couple of letters for you at the Post Office” or “I’ll take those, she lives a couple of houses from mine”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FsYzBuDrE5Q

Chau

Frank

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

Terry at work with Roneo machine and Camel Special Filter.

—

Dear reader, we’re back again with a vengeance, this episode is sponsored by everyone and everything, (via royal decree) that comes with a Third.

Charles 111 prototype monogram. Still waiting for Buckingham palace approval. Would look good outside any Post Office or Court House. Only problem: what does the ‘C’ stand for?

With precious little time before the balloon goes up on all the bullion destined for the house of Windsor, and Gina and Twiggy’s bid to get a seat in the House of Lords, our desperate heroes make their way back to Hancock prospecting oil rig. Their only hope, to get there and return the ingots in the back of the ute before Brendan squeals and the plutocrats from Perth are baying blood.

It’s a tough gig way out west, and as any local will tell you, when there’s gold between you and the prize, you’d better either duck, run or get processed by CSR and Bex.

Desperate to get there before sunup our heroes bleary eyed and buggered have thrown their last hat, played their last card, and rolled their last dice. Will their destiny be as dicey as the Timor gap negotiations and Alex Downers listening in? Will they be freed, and live to inhale the air of freedom as the people of Tibet now do joyous in the embrace of the CCP do so? Will they be enfranchised and free as the recently acquired territory of eastern Ukraine?  Only time can tell and the sand its dripping through the hourglass whilst the clock tok tiks inexorably… Find out in this next impulsive episode; ‘Go west young man and get out of my sight’!

Rolf. A visionary for the modern era

‘I dunno’, Ces murmured as he gripped the wheel of the land cruiser, ‘by my reckoning we should be there about now’. His colleagues Quent and Terry just puffed on their Camels as the Toyota subsumed in a cloud of dust rumbled and rattled down the corduroy tracks in search of the oil rig. ‘Look for a plume, a flash of light’!  Ces looked at his watch; ‘only an hour or two before sunup! We don’t wanna get caught out I the open if Brenny-boy returns with the rapide’?

They anxiously looked out the rear window, noticed the stars twinkling in the crisp cold air of the hinterland, and hoped that somewhere out in the celestial mantle, a star twinkled for their providence. It had been a long night, but they all knew that unless the stash was returned it would be an perpetual night if they failed to reach their rendezvous.

Visionary. Rolf always had a handle on threes. And Royal turds.

‘There it is’!! Terry actually removed the Camel to make the observation and pointing with his nicotine-stained finger we discerned the dull glow diffused by the mulga. They sped towards the plume and reassured themselves that they still had a chance. A slim chance, a wafer-thin chance, but a chancey-chance nonetheless. Well, put it this way a chance that they,  like the management of Crown who were up to their nostrils in shonky, illegal and corrupt practices could  still hold their license. Or the chance that whatever Wayne Carey had in the little plastic band was Dettol sprinkled with Whizz Fizz.

The Toyota screeched to a halt. ‘Just back it into the shed and pretend it’s always been there, in the meantime I’ll try and find a way of starting the other vehicle’. And as they bounded out and replaced the tarp, covering the bullion and gathered their things they scarcely noticed the shadow that passed between them. It was only when Ces fiddled with the ignition on the other land cruiser, that he noticed something odd. ‘What’s this’? he remarked, removing a prosthetic limb from under the in instrument panel, he looked at it, turned it round and felt the splash of warm beer as it splashed upon the seat. ‘Someone’s been drinking from this, and by the looks of it’…..

Translation; ‘Three Coins tossed in the fountain at Crown Casino’! ‘Enter the draw and we’ll put you in the draw for a possie on the Crown Board. Association with known criminal syndicates an advantage’.

No sooner, had he uttered the words, than the shadowy figure stood forth, silhouetted in the dull glow of the plume of burning gas. Quent and Terry were too busy loading the tent and the cooking gear into the tray of the ute to notice, but Ces gasped. He knew the familiar outline, the massive bulk, the profile, the square set jaw and the swagger and more ominously, etched out from the dull glow the semi-automatic, the .303 a relic from the ‘Glorious Sons of Daughters of Anzackery light and Sound Exhibition’, and the brace of grenades hanging like the baubles of a Christmas tree around his waist.

‘Well well well’, the figure said. ‘Fancy meeting youse again’! In one instant they knew by the corruption of grammar and idiom tarnished by years of war experience, who it was, they didn’t need to say it for in the next instance it was made abundantly clear.

‘Me and Julian, aint arf surprised in finding youse, he always said you’d come back, and now you have what have youse to say for yourselves’? From behind the massive bulk of Benny-boy, now clearly visible in the dawns first light walked Julian, he had a smirk on his face and with a flick of the wrist tossed the rollie from his lip, ‘yep, now it’s your turn’. He pointed to the three heroes; ‘and this time no slip ups’.

Will the trio escape from this one? Will the future king get his ingots? Will Gina and Twiggy get a seat via gold ingots and a gong from the UK’s leading the Crime family, the deceptively named; ‘Windsors’, and get a possie and a couple of medals to sit in the House of Lords?

Find out in the next vice-regal episode, ‘inside the royal chamber…..pot’, or “three tossers tossed trajectoratedly into the fountain”

The First Prince Willem from the house of Orange. Exported religious tolerance to Ireland.

Dear reader,

from the thinking person’s scribe of our very own version of the ‘Global Daily’ comes another one from Frank.

We detect via in-depth scrutiny of various clues and repetitive idiom that Frank is sending out a message that may be critical of both the legendary status of Our Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Secombe, and her heir, King Charles the Turd.

Let it be made quite clear here and now. The editorial ship of pcbycp is steadfastly a standard of the house of Windsor. We reject Frank’s assertion that ‘God save the King’ is not ‘Kingly”, as we reject assertions made by the same author that Rolf’s ‘Two Little Boys’ is not destined to become the unofficial Australian Anthem. That’s the problem with republicans, they’re Unreliable.

Three Cheers to His Majesty; and long to rain over us ‘God Save Our Chuck’!

Frank writes….

Vrienden,

Prince Willem the Turd, Sponsored ‘Wee Willem’ cigars to England

My father could get very pissed off about the Dutch National Anthem:

Wilhelmus van Nassouwe      William of Nassau
ben ik, van Duitsen bloed,      am I of German blood

den Koning van Hispanje       the King of Spain
heb ik altijd geëerd.                I’ve always honoured

He held a strong opinion that in view of what happened in 1940-45 German blood wasn’t anything to write home about. And as for the Spanish occupation of the Low Countries several centuries ago, honouring their King was even more ludicrous.
We were in agreement that the Argentine National Anthem (“Oid mortales el grito Sagrado: Libertad, Libertad, Libertad”) had a lot more to commend it.
As for God Save the Queen, changing it to God Save the King isn’t going to change all I’ll say about it. I have heard a lot of better music.

What the hell, here is some of what I’m talking about:

The latest Prince William is the bald bloke on the right. (Assassin following closely behind)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IzkV9EDnJGc

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3NFVLrAu1wc

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WqCgUrOBX0I

Princess Anne, coulda been a stand- in for Emma Peel, but the horses said ‘Nay”

In My Yuendumu Story you may recall the anecdote of Chuck and the Dook’s fly-over over our Arctic oil drilling rig. A truly life-changing experience. So let me tell you the sequel:

Our departed sovereign in her famous; ” Golden Showers Dress”

On our return to Calgary, our 4 engine Electra plane did its usual refuelling stop at Yellowknife. Only a few weeks earlier a passenger plane had aborted a landing at Ottawa, and as it circled for a second attempt, a wing fell off and the plane crashed. So, you can imagine what I was thinking when our plane as it descended to land suddenly took off to circle the airstrip. I needn’t have worried. Princess Anne’s small plane got to land ahead of ours.

At the front of the terminal there was a row of alternating maple leaf and union jack flags, and lined up in front of the flag poles was an assemblage of Canadian toffs in formal wear. As we walked in front of them in our drilling-mud splattered parkas, we gave them royal waves.

When Princess Anne descended from her plane, after our two weeks on the drilling rig, we thought she was as good looking as a Playboy centrefold, and said so loudly to the chagrin of the assembled Yellowknifeians.

Many of you will have experienced reading a book and recognising a character or place you’re familiar with. In Mordecai Richler’s ‘Solomon Gurski was here’ he mentions a dinner party in Yellowknife on the occasion of the Royal Visit- in the book there is no mention of the drilling crew interlopers.

So, as I watched the wall-to-wall TV coverage of the Royal death and ascension, I felt smug with my Royal memories until a man was briefly featured on the news who spoke of the most important event in his long life, as he told it, the Queen had once shook his hand!

Another highlight I can recall was the TV series ‘The Royle Family’. I was particularly taken by Episode 3, Series 3 which deals with changing the wallpaper.

possibly the unofficial Australian national Anthem as endorsed by Brendan Nelson and the AWM

Meanwhile the coronial inquest into the death of Kumanjayi Walker rolls on. It tells me almost nothing I didn’t know. All the same I’m glad that in between being told about the latest on the Queen and King, the world is being told about the character of the cast in the tragedy that unfolded in Yuendumu on 9^th November 2019. The Good the Bad and the Ugly.

Dag,

Frank

The last portrait of the previous King Charles, shot on Kodachrome with purplish tints of hubris.

Dear reader, we returneth by Royal Decree to our saga.

After an appreciable delay, akin to the delivery of a Federal Government anti-corruption authority or worse, we find our heroes in a serious pickle. So much has happened since we last put pen to paper. The Queen, (allegedly, unconfirmed sightings on the Cayman Islands and Geneva pending) has karked it. And now for the first time since America and the colonies were lost to the Commonwealth we have another monarch who goes by the name of the TURD. Will King Charles the Turd, (no it’s not a brand of Cocker Spaniel), save us in our hour of need?

Will Mr Vladimir settle it out with Mr Vlodimir?

Do two Wongs make a white? As Arthur was fond of saying.

What calumny and dastardly intrigue and much worse awaits our heroes?  With a ute tray full of real gold ingots destined for the house of Windsor as a down-payment on a peerage for Lord Twiggy and Lady Gina. Is that Tray- bien as the French would say or just a little bit on the tray desolee side of things?

The last King Charles had a very trained eye for the finer things in life.

Could the royal escutcheon be tarnished further?  And if it is irretrievably tarnished, will the Royal Brasso get the tinge off? Who’s got an attack of the tinges? Is it rusty on the hinges, and will Benny Boy and Julian enliven the Binges?

Find out in this next lost  Imperatrix of an episode, as we Honey the soit. And get maliver, (late of Dover Heights ) to look after the mali pence. What sort of a honey soit you’d like to know?  No difference cos crowned heads know best. They know which Swiss bank accounts and Cayman Island tax hedges to use in order to save themselves, the empire and the threat of paying tax in the first place. That’s what royalty is about. That and forelock tugging. Tug into this next episode; ‘for who forelock tugs’?  Or; ‘three tugs and you pull’.

The Third King Charles has simpler tastes

‘Jeez’!, Ces said eyeing the glittering array of Bullion in the back of the ute.  ‘The plume says it belongs to the Prince of Wales. Now he’s a king I spose it belongs to Prince William’?

They looked at each other clearly there was a line in the sand, who really was the Prince of Wales? Which begged the question; did William, have more clout than Charles the turd at Windsor Castle?

The Third King Charles is surrounded by loving family members, and an angry daughter in law. Nothing new here.

‘I dunno’!  Quent said. ‘By the ancient laws of primogeniture it probably might have to be divvied up between Harry and some other chinless wonder. The issue is, how do we flog it without anyone, and that includes Gina ever knowing’?

That’s easy’, Quent relied with enthusiasm; ‘we just find another Royal and get a ‘Royal Decree’. You know , by order of blah blah, by the Grace of God etc, we accept these stolen goods as is our chinless divine right etc’

‘Or’, Ces interjected, ‘just steal it and say by right, It’s mine’! That’s what the poms did in India and Ireland and most other places and it worked a treat. And if they want it back they’re just sore losers. ‘Finders keepers’ as they say in the classics.

‘Yeah but nah but, Terry chipped in, this is serious shit, with Gina, Twiggy and Brenny Boy Nelson exalted head of the AWM are onto it, it means we’re rooted. They’ll stop at nothing to knock us off.  To put it bluntly these ingots might as well just be a coffin, cos that’s where were headed. Even Kerry Stokes would be pissed off at us, cos in the end, they all want a safe possie on the House of Lords. It’s called the ‘suck- hole effect’. Offer one to Malcolm Turnbull and Peter Fitzsimmons and they’d go monarchist faster than you could say ‘Lady Flo or Vince Gair’.

They all thought about the ingots and the death sentence that had been bequeathed upon them by just circumstance,

In the olden days, kingly virtue was upheld by the sword, the blunderbuss and the royal flush. (the First King Charles being attended by his courtiers in the smaller Royal Throne Room)

‘I’ve got an idea’, Ces said it with such effect it felt like a thunderclap. ‘Listen’!

They all listened. When Ces had something really important to say they even stopped drawing on the Camels, which by the magic of balance, poise and gravity still perched delicately upon each’s bottom lip. ‘We’re rooted just for having this in our possession.  So far Nelson aint gonna tell em, we got free, or he’s slotted.  And besides, with his upcoming ‘Sons and Daughters of ANZAC light and Sound Show’ he’ll plead ignorance with Gina and Twig. And they won’t be able to knock him off till later as the new exhibition space is named after em. But I reckon if we return the gold, and just piss off, they might be just so glad they let us go. No questions asked’.

There was a pause as the digested Ces’s analysis.

‘I dunno’, Terry offered us another round of Camels, it’s a risk, but one worth taking, l spose in the end, if the stuff is returned there’s no harm done, they can’t knock us off for just doing the right thing.

Ces and Quent both laughed, ‘Jeez Terry, you’ve been down in Radium Springs for a very long time. These days everyone gets knocked off for doing the right thing. It’s just the stakes of public disclosure that stops em from slotting everyone’!

How far day reckon back to the oil rig?  I dunno, a few hours?

Good then, we’ve got time to return the ingots and make a dash for it before sunup.

‘Are we in’?  Ces the ring leader a natural leader though unanointed with shiny medals inspired them…

Some people hated the first old Charles’s dad so much they tried to blow up parliament with him in it.

‘Right then, LET’S GO!!

Within seconds the campsite was packed and we were off, back to the oil rig, and with a bit of luck ahead of Brenny-boy, Gina and Twiggy, and come to think of it Benny-Boy and Julian Assange.

These days ROYALS are kept out of trouble by having TOP Advisors

Is this a respite, or just a riposte? Find out in our next nuclear charged episode; ‘Ingots in the back of a ute are not considered liquid assets’, or ‘Cayman Island tax schemes or Chocolate royals?

There’s may be no difference’.

Is there truth in the rumor that the Queen might be crook? Is this the end for Antipodean lick-spittledom?

Or will those invested in the sacred duty of lick- spittledom rise to the occasion?

Dear reader,

We held off sending this missive from Frank of the far north because we’ve been inundated with correspondence  from an unknown quarter.  During the course of the year we see it as our solemn duty as a responsible media outlet to answer all our correspondence.  Lately, with our forensic investigation into the nefarious money laundering, graft, corruption and nepotism at the core of our investigation into Windsor Inc. We have been forced to employ several highly credentialed scribes just to answer the wave, the tsunami of correspondence we’ve received in relation to the gold ingots, the suitcases and the provenance of said gold stamped either Hancock prospecting or the three plumed escutcheon of His Royal Highness The Prince of Wales.

Will the chinless wonder save the Empire?

Just yesterday we were issued with a letter of demand bearing the royal crest suggesting, (and we paraphrase) ‘unless we stop our investigation of the gold ingots for peerage scam forthwith, our accreditation as members of the Fellows of the International accredited non-aligned press corps would be revoked’.

Will Lord Rolf of Harris recite; ‘Two little boys” and reunite the crimson bond of Kinship?

A direct consequence being our reportage of high-level royal intrigue and attendant photo opportunities would cease. We asked for clarification and received a terse ‘we are not amused” and then a further demand for not one, not two, but several suitcases of ingots to be delivered to this address, ‘The Old lady’s House Balmoral”. What could this mean? Is there change afoot at Windsor? Has the standard rate for a peerage been fully indexed against CPI, bracket creep and inflation?  Is HRH Prince of Wales entitled to bracket creep? We cannot answer these known unknowns, but what we can do is warn the citizenry that the next week we may be drowning in the full ‘Royal effluvium”.

And like spitting, it’s something that may affect our safety, our sense of duty and sense of well-being, For the sake of personal dignity we advise that over- exposure to the ‘Royal effluvium” may result in necrosis of the soul. The symptoms being; forelock tugging, wallowing, and the anticipation of weeks spent in the tedium of royal watching.

Where is the royal spittoon in our hour of need? No need for it, for in the NT, they have their very own principled and receptacles for spit, the NT Police Force.

Is Frank the only informed voice North of the North-West Frontier? Will he wear a spit-hood emblazoned with the Royal Coat of Arms?

From Don Dale to Yuendumu, is this the best they can do?

Take it, (the Royal spittoon) away Frank……

Hola amigos,

I don’t normally send two dispatches in two days, but someone (thank you GG) forwarded me this exciting bit of news from the Wollongong based Mirage News. I’ll let it speak for itself. I’m speechless:

Will the currency have to be re-badged. Will the archetype Noble Savage be re-drawn with a spit-hood, to demonstrate PROGRESS?

Labor delivers for police and other emergency workers on spitting assaults reads the headline-
NT Government 1 September 2022

Spitting on police and other frontline emergency workers is a vile act which now carries stronger penalties, delivered today in parliament by the Territory Labor Government.
Territory Labor today passed amendments to the Criminal Code and the Sentencing Act 1995, which include spitting as an aggravating factor for all assaults and an increase in penalties. Offenders who spit on police or emergency workers can now face up to 10 years in jail.
Spitting at workers is an offence which has been far too frequent. It places police, ambulance and other emergency workers at risk of long-term consequences from communicable diseases and can be a significant factor in stress and mental health concerns.

Strengthening these laws is another step forward in Territory Labor’s community safety initiatives which put victims first and deliver appropriate consequences for criminal acts.

The increase in penalties reflect the seriousness of spitting, especially in light of the risk of communicable diseases we’ve seen with the Covid pandemic, and sends a clear message this behaviour is unacceptable.
Police officers have a role in maintaining civil order and emergency workers respond at times of greatest community need. These frontline heroes shouldn’t face such dangers in fulfilling their duties.

Will other chinless wonders fill acres of newsprint with their confected hurt?

Quotes from Minister for Police, Fire and Emergency Services, Kate Worden:
“We are a government that is delivering on our commitment to protect and support our hardworking police and emergency workers.

“We’re delivering on addressing police mental health and wellbeing, and now we have delivered stronger protection for all our first responders against the disgusting and dangerous practice of spitting.

“Police and emergency workers deserve a safer working environment and it’s our job to protect our vulnerable workers who every day put themselves on the frontline to protect and respond to our safety and welfare.

Will there be more bright and shiny medals for those who selflessly protect us in the name of Her/ His/insert relevant LGBTI Trans Sex inter, mutant pronoun MAJESTY?

“It also recognises this behaviour is unacceptable and won’t be tolerated, and that the perpetrator must take responsibility.”

Dear reader,

Another scintillating fragment from the man they call ‘Frank’.

Zac Rolfe won a lot of medals on the FRONTLINE. He came to Yuendumu inspired by doing GOOD! Sadly, the locals did not recognise him as a BLOODY GREAT WAR HERO who wore shiny new MEDALS!

He writes to us from the frontline. The troubled North-West frontier in which justice is just another word they use to replace those worn-out tropes of ‘compassion, empathy and understanding’. Good thing we say, as with those old bogies the justice system in the NT would not be able to expand and expand, and guarantee employment for all those selfless, noble, self-sacrificing police officers that endure the hardship, (that’s why they’re on remote allowances, bonuses and all manner of perks and lurks) so that they must uphold the right to be white and righteous. We can only hope that we accept the recommendations of the ‘Interior Growth Commission’ and accept that incarceration of indigenous Australians at birth. This would be a further boon to the undeveloped wastelands of the dry interior. Only Jobs and growth in incarceration can fulfil the jobs potential of NT futures.

So, here’s to Zachary Rolfe and all those who see a silver lining in blunt, obdurate administration of blind justice. And for those who are truly blind the Braille edition of this can be read on the walls of an NT prison near you.

Frank writes….

All stand,

On Monday the coronial inquest into the death of Kumanjayi Walker will commence in Alice Springs.
The proceedings are scheduled for three months.

Caption; ‘Old Australia half-crown postage stamp showing a portrait of an Aborigine man’. note absence of medals and tendency to be incarcerated.

Meanwhile in the Northern Territory the Justice system continues on its set course headed for an iceberg. Additional police personnel are actively being recruited. Jails are being built and expanded. It is a major industry.

Indigenous family. Note propensity to law- breaking. Spear, (unlicensed), Woomera (without safety catch) and absence of shiny new medals.

The graph below shows that in the NT approx. 1% of the adult population is locked up at any one time. For adult Aboriginal men it is 3%. And that is not counting imprisoned minors who are all Aboriginal

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0wTKo_kPlck Elvis, I want to be free

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JSafdm92NIM Lajamanu Teenage Band- Prisoner

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UTffIe76l-4 Lucky Dube- Prisoner

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HQm6U2zIQkU Carlos Ramón Fernández
Que te ha pasado justicia

Please pay particular attention to the lyrics of this song. Anthropologists call it lateral violence.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EYjZTBdF0VI Lucky Dube- Victims

Just watch the people who celebrate NT Justice, pull out all stops to depict Yuendumu as a dysfunctional dangerous place so as to justify the unjustifiable.

Be seated,

Lone indigenous Australian. Spear and aggressive stance indicates propensity to law breaking and obdurate refusal to register spear and inappropriate, (NT Dress Code) use of underwear. A clear breach of NT Civil Standards.

Frank