The ‘Three wise men’ is a popular and enduring theme in Australian Culture

Dear reader, another installment from the man they call ‘Frank’.

In this segment Frank makes reference to the insidious creep of unwarranted press attention and stigmatisation associated with his community on the Northwest Frontier. A community that works as a lightning rod for self-righteous hypocrites. The press, whatever passes for the media, and those who heap opprobrium. Cos that’s all they know.

We’re not just talking about the coalition, or the excellent work in the field undertaken by Zachary Rolfe at Camp Rolfe, (formerly Yuendumu). But something much more significant than that.

Those places designated ‘ newsworthy’ solely because they enable the public at large to read about them, salivate a little, and feel righteous and self-assured at the wretched state of things amongst the uncivilised, etc.

It’s the old paradox, reading bad makes em feel really good. 

Russia also holds deep affinity for the “Three wise men”

This is the true spirt of Christmas., the three wise men, and their adornment of the child and his ‘povvo’ parents who couldn’t afford a penthouse suite with ocean views at Bethlehem. And why they chose to give this child the gifts of Frankincense, Myrrh and Gold, because they couldn’t find an NGO at that time of the night to receive the gifts which were all tax deductible as most contributions to NGO’s are. And of course, not to mention the disappointment they must have felt when their gifts, came to naught.  The Christ child turned out to be a stirring rat- bag. Was ungrateful for their kindness and went off being a nuisance to Romans and Judeans alike until they sensibly knocked him off. 

This is the spirit of Christmas.  Ensure that your gifts and largesse are channeled through fully accredited charities and philanthropic organisations and you shall reap the reward! 

This is what Frank had taught us at Camp Rolfe, (formerly Yuendumu) where NGO’s outnumber ordinary administration by a power of ten to one. A victory for charity and a double gold for NGO’s who know what’s right for poor subject peoples, cos they have both God and fiduciary wisdom to guide them. 

A Christmas present that keeps giving in spite of the ungratefulness of the locals. Which is both a source of pity and frustration. 

But Frank is not frustrated, just patiently. and with patience a forefront, he writes to us…… again. 

 

When three wise men exercise their authority on the floor of Parliament, the public know that real leadership and self – interest is active.

Feliz Navidad y todo eso,

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PvwbBkGasQg  Feliz Navidad- Jose Feliciano

All quiet on the western front in Yuendumu.
I’m told that below the mainstream radar, the annual young men’s business is proceeding. It is none of my business, but I assume it is true, and I’m glad.

I remember when Dylan Moran expressed his gratitude to Muslim terrorists. The world’s gaze had been deflected from the Irish, who were freed from that awful stigmatisation which saw everything Irish through the lens of IRA bombing of innocent civilians. Ireland which produced such music as this:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CL80jFkLzQ0  Shin Kicker- Rory Gallagher

In the olden days three wise men could be embodied in one singular entity. This is what SCOMO tried to emulate in his five ministries saga

So too, Yuendumu can now be grateful to Wadeye. The ABC NT recently featured several articles on Wadeye where 5% of its 2,000 population is now locked up in gaol.
Australia’s gaze has been deflected from Yuendumu. They’re giving us a break. We can relax and get on with our lives without getting frustrated and being baited into a futile manning of the ramparts against a relentless propaganda campaign being mounted by the assimilationists, conservatives and alleged ZR supporters, not least his mishpocha.

As we ease into Christmas, we can enjoy some deferred books and do a bit of YouTube surfing.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Af0P6XEkI7Y Thunderstruck- AC/DC

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=564u39PJfUI Thunderstruck- Guzheng

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9UhE4ouXjRg  Pajaro Campana- Juglares

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rNMotPVE7R4 Bougainville Bamboo Band

In 1970 when working in heated quarters in northern Canada, I claimed to be the Northernmost ever thong wearer (the Canadian Arctic Archipelago is further north than Siberia).
I had no idea what else you could do with what we referred to as Japanese riding boots.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q4R3aqe0g30  Te vas arrepentir- Banda La Divina

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6igYlWqhm-U  Banjara- Maatibaani

And my all-time favourite:

Australian History is full of great leadership. And to show we’re punching above out weight we have recently exceeded the magic three by some measure. Proof of a burgeoning democracy.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cYbs_O_iMfU Respect- Aretha Franklin

Catch ya’s

Frank

—

Dear reader, we return to our fracas, with Christmas only a week away, our heroes, Ces, Quent and the hapless Terry find themselves face to face with their nemesis Sophie, exalted custodian of the Fair Work Commission.

Will our heroes do as they do in Russia? Just take a cup of polonium and harden up a bit?

No ‘ho ho ho’, but just Sophie.

The AK 47 toting Sophie, who’s angrier than usual and about to do em in. Unless they disclose the whereabouts of the Gold destined to be paid by Gina as a bribe to ‘the firm’ and King Charles the Turd so she can get a peerage and a dose of respectability.

Will our heroes cough up?

Will they have time to engage Netflix to do a tediously over long expose of the hurt they’ve suffered as a consequence of being spoilt, rich, overdignified and rotten?

Will they be able to stare open eyed at the camera and say they’ve been slotted by ‘the firm’, before they’re slotted by Sophie? Is it one rule of compassion for ex royals and another for just ordinary folk who try and keep their heads above the filth of non-official official corruption? Decent ordinary folk who are just trying to get along?

Heaven knows, and three wise men might need more than gold, incense and myrrh to get out of this mess, cos as the Kalashnikov safety catch is off, Sophie is likely to go off faster than a Christmas cracker.  And the joke will be worse than the one inside.

The trouble with our heroes is, they don’t have the kind of post parliamentary strategy that keeps the taxpayer funds flowing into their very own coffers. They don’t get the trickle-down effect’!

Stay tuned if you DARE and read on….

‘One last time boys, I’ve been pretty fair with youse to date! Where’s the fucken gold’?

Not a whisper issued from our parched lips, just the sound of Sophie dragging on her Sobrani, one last big one, and then the shuffling sound as she ground the butt underneath the toe of her jackboot.

‘Well’ Ces, said, ‘we know where the gold is, it’s right above you’.

‘Hahahahah nice try!

Sorry folks I’m a non-believer, the bloke upstairs aint gonna save you, nor is the star of Bethlehem. You’ve wasted enough of my time, cos as you may know I’m, (she shouted the word at the top of her voice) ‘Fucken IMPORTANT’!

‘Seriously’! Ces pointed, ‘it’s right above you. We switched the weights, smelted the gold and put the real gold, disguised above you as lead weights.  They’re doing the job right now, on keeping the oil rig tight and upright’.

‘Nice try’.  Sophie still wasn’t convinced, for an exalted Fair Work Commissioner she took a lot of convincing.

‘Prove it!!  You have about one minute’.

The all seeing, all powerful, bearded old bloke up-stairs

Ces saw his chance, racing over to the shed, he picked up a step ladder, perched above the top holding onto the counterweight and flicked the surface with his pocketknife, and surely enough the auric gleam came through the scratches.

‘Well I’ll be’, Sophie scratched the stubble on her chin admiringly, ‘Clever boys, who would’ve thought?  Now I want youse to do for me one other small favour’, she waved the muzzle of the AK,’ Cut it down and give it to me’.

She waved the muzzle again, ‘no funny business.

Just do it nice’, and she paused to add weight and emphasis; ‘do it nice and Slow’ !

Eyes were on Ces as he undid the shackle that supported the counterweight. He asked, ‘for everyone’s sake stand back, when the counterweight is released, the derrick may get a little unsteady’. Sophie just ignored the request, ‘let me be the judge of that cos I’m a Fair Work Commissioner’, and busied herself in lighting another Sobrani.

‘Just get me the fucken gold and we’ll talk terms later’!!

Post state parliament. Could Adem be a shoe in for a seat on the Fair Work Commission? He has all the credentials, at his fingertips, (so to speak).

‘Allright then as you wish’. Terry and Quent, just stood forlornly.

‘Be careful Ces, that’s a lot of gold and you don’t wanna injure yerself’ Terry was worried with the ladder perched so precariously.

‘Shut up all of youse’! Sophie Commanded.  I’ll be the judge of that, as I’m also on the board of WORKSAFE’!

She had a point, there wasn’t a taxpayer funded board nor sinecure Sophie didn’t have a finger in.  Like Angus she’d learnt the benefits of monetising office. The Coalition were masters at the game.

Frank working on his ‘Christmas Ham’ Portable wireless set at Camp Rolfe, (formerly Yuendumu). Seen here tuning in to pcbycp broadcast.

But just, and at that moment three things happened. The shackle broke. Ces lost his balance as the counterweight landed smack bang on the ladder itself. Ces shot sideways like a catapult. The gold landed with a thud crushing the ladder to a mangled mess. And Ces, splayed and stunned cannoned obliquely by the force straight into the pudginess of Sophie who softened the collision and possibly saved Ces from serious injury via her generous protective coating. Her Michelin-man of torso of exalted fat.

Fat and fate collided.

With such ferocity both Sophie and her Kalashnikov thrown to the air, fell in a forlorn heap just beyond the shadows of Quent and Terry.  Who both stood gob-smacked by the divine and entirely unexpected reprieve. They looked at Ces and Sophie, both bodies inert.  And wasting no time ran in the opposite direction picked up the counterweight and flung it into the fuselage of the Rotodyne.

‘Good thing’!  Ces remarked as he groggily arose.  Sophie still concussed as a consequence of the impact, ‘help me tie her up and we’ll work out a plan later, even inert she’s still Dangerous and liable to GO OFF at the tick of a clock’.

Even as we write plans are afoot via Australia’s experts to re- tool the Roto-dyne as a centerpiece of Australian forward defense strategy. To augment the up-graded coal powered Collins Class Submarines and further strengthen the AWKWARD Alliance.

Expertly, Terry applied, Gaffer, tape, electrical cord and actual rope and before we could say ‘St Wenceslas’, he had her trussed up like a Christmas Turkey. ‘Many happy returns’! He slapped Ces and Quent on the back.  ‘All we have to do is get this baby fired up and we’re out of here’.

And not a moment too soon, for in the distance they heard the distinct sound of aeroplane engines. Not any ordinary engines, but the throaty roar of Twin inline Gypsy majors, Twin Gypsys’; with the air cooled inverted six thrusting a whopping 200 hp each as it made its approach.

‘We might have to leave Sophie here’! They looked at the crumpled heap of jackboot and Fat. Compassion suggested they take her with them.  Logic suggested she stay behind.

They were stumped, though she promised them instant death, they were caught between the moral dilemma, and the test.  The ultimate test of humanity v survival had arrived. And they found themselves wanting.

Can they take off and leave Sophie behind?

Or is there still a trick up her pudgy designer label sleeve?

Father Christmas, Santa, Ol Nick, enjoys a smoke after a big night out on Chrissy eve. Will our heroes get to see another Christmas?

Find out in the next episode; ‘Sophie and Christmas Crackers are both liable to go off’. Or;  ‘A Sophie in the sun should be well cooked and rare’.

Dear reader,

another scintillating piece from Frank.  In this- un he talks of voices. Both Ces and Quent, (our sub editors and long-term contributors) suffer from a state of advanced deafness. And as far as political voices are concerned, regrettably, we can only hear dog- whistles. But if you listen hard to this dispatch you may hear something else. Ears to the ground as they say, 

Frank in his younger days enjoyed worldwide communication courtesy of his HAM radio. The ham was cured and cooked for Christmas. (Ham not indicated in this studio portrait)

Frank continues….

你好吗？( Nǐ hǎo ma?)

That in a fair and functional democracy, minorities should have a say in matters that affect them, to me is a no-brainer.
Yes, it should be so, but living in Yuendumu, it is painfully obvious to me that as far as the Warlpiri people is concerned this is far from happening.

My musician brother, often would participate in talent shows, both radio and television.
He had the talent but never achieved celebrity status. I remember him ruefully telling me that he had become Australia’s Oldest New Face. Too late for my brother but the talent/reality show TV industry has flourished. Worldwide franchises such as “…….(insert country) has got talent” not to mention that glitz and glamour kitsch extravaganza, Eurovision. The weirder the better.
Then there is The Voice in which some reasonably talented singers are hyped up by a panel of celebrities who go into orgasmic paroxysms and any lengths to excite and convince audiences into believing they have just witnessed the performance of the century, so as to sell more advertising.

But it isn’t television’s The Voice I wish to discuss. The Voice to Parliament that our latest Prime Minister has vowed to hold a referendum on, is The Voice I’m often asked my opinion on.

This referendum is a double-edged sword. I remember when Ntaria’s Warren H. Williams was a candidate in an election; he considered the idea that Australia should have a vote on the notion that Indigenous Australians were here first, to be highly insulting. Should we hold a referendum to determine if the Earth is flat or round?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tvbgTQIWw_4
Warren H. Williams, Great Southern Land

A GREAT PM gives a superb oration as to why he took on secret ministries at a time of crisis. FOR ONE GOD!

Of course, our previous Government missed an opportunity. Our Prime Minister made that giant leap in reconciliation when he unilaterally changed ‘young’ in our national anthem to ‘one’ Equally he could have, when he was Minister for Everything, have made a unilateral decision on The Voice, and saved us the angst of a costly and divisive referendum.

So here are Argentina and Australia’s national anthems at the World Cup:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Euv8ZW82mqk

The rendition of that awesome Argentine National Anthem I grew up with…
Oid mortales, el grito sagrado… Libertad, Libertad, Libertad!
(Hear all ye mortals, the sacred cry… Liberty, Liberty, Liberty!)

left much to be desired.
The Australian National Anthem, on the other hand had an Aboriginal language version tacked on, which to their credit the Australian team had learned. But hey! We have reverted to being young rather than one. Who decided this, and when?

The GREATEST VOICE this country has ever known and the REAL anthem of Australia, Anzackery, and an ALL LOVING GOD, who prefers Queenslanders over Socialist Pinko Victorians

I vividly recall the euphoric crowd returning from the ceremony at which the Warlpiri people were “granted” Native Title on neighbouring Mount Doreen Station. Traditional dancing had much impressed the judge, politicians, media, and well-wishers, and a good time was had by all.

What did it all mean? I asked- “Matthew can no longer lock the gates. We can go there anytime we want to”
Recently Mt. Doreen Station changed hands for $34.7 million plus another similar amount for cattle on the hoof. Pastoral Lease holders retain the right for access control, but Native Title holders have the right to hunt and perform ceremonies. However, should they be tempted to hunt a bullock, they risk incarceration.

Native Title was sold as the culmination of the Land Rights movement. A fait accompli. Empowerment.
It is anything but.

So, what about The Voice to Parliament and the Uluru Statement from the Heart? The danger is that they will be seen as the full stop to the struggle for recognition and reconciliation. The Voice can be used as a weapon of colonialism “We have ‘given’ you this, so what more do you want?” It could derail any effort to negotiate treaties with teeth. Just like our nation has reverted to being young, so too, could The Voice be muzzled, even in its inception.

Which brings us to the current politization of The Voice.
The current opposition has started a campaign of obfuscating the process. They are demanding “more detail”

Honest, I’m not buying into this argument. Suffice it to mention Noel Pearson’s most recent contribution to the English Language: trapped in a “redneck celebrity vortex”

I was going to vote No, I’ve changed my mind, I’m voting Yes.

再见 (Zàijiàn)

Frank

PS-The tres (three) is a Cuban guitar which has three spaced pairs of strings, tuned in a particular way, to give it a unique sound:

GREATEST PM EVER! Serves GOD FIRST, and the Australian people a distant second.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tuzz2MZRjlw (the guy on the left)

Intro….

Prince Harry, sports his favourite outfit before he was shunned by ‘The Firm”

Its only several weeks until Christmas, and we know as you stuff yourselves with grog and rich food, you should spare a thought for those in desperate need. Show compassion for those less fortunate.

Prince Andrew has been cut adrift, spare a thought for poor ol Prince Andrew when you’re tucking into your Christmas Pudding.

Prince Harry and Meghan have been cut off from the royal family, ‘the Firm’ and will have to rely on their wits just in order to put food on the table. It’s an unstable table and it complains bitterly about having to shoulder the burden of inherited wealth, privilege and alleged racism. We know there is no such thing in the royal family, they are chosen by GOD to lead and God as we all know is an old bearded white man, so there’s nothing to see here. And we also know that the Liberal Coalition is rent by back-stabbing, in-fighting and corruption. Good to see an age-old tradition keeping faith with its core belief system.

Gina Rinehart, a shoe- in for the House of Lords before she was dissed by Sophie.

Elsewhere the world is a nasty place, but none nastier than that of our hapless trio who have endured more than a parliamentary intern, and found themselves back where they started, about top have their reckoning served cold by none other than Australia’s second most powerful (‘is that a law professor in your back paddock’?) Sophie, ‘I have the numbers’; Sophie, ‘the cards are always marked in my favour’; Sophie, ‘and I always get what I want’, Mirabella.

Will they cone through this time or will Sophie, unelectable, un-lady like and unwatchable pull it off and siphon Ginas Gold destined to the Firm in exchange for a peerage into her own designer handbag. 

Diamond’s are forever, but designer clothing is only for the anointed, 

we return to where we left off…. perilously poised as we say…  read on….

Ronald Reagan, slotted to be the greatest actor ever in the history of Hollywood, before he turned to bit parts of his Presidency.

Sophie declared her interest in Ginas’ gold and the right she had to be taxpayer funded in order to uphold her privilege, lifestyle and dignity as a member of the Fair Work Commission.

‘For your information, I’m not only a bitch, but you’re looking at the next most powerful woman in Australia after Gina, and after I’ve finished with her, she’ll be yesterday’s fish n chip paper’.  

 ‘But….. but’, Ces stammered out the words, ‘what about Dutto, have you knocked him off’?

Nup, I’ve put him a place where he can do no harm.  Where he can’t be heard, and where no one will ever listen to him’!

‘What’s that’? Ces expostulated, “A prison?  A Devils Island? The Don Dale Detention Centre’?  

Sophie scoffed, ‘Worse and less obvious than any of em, he’s installed courtesy ‘MOI’ as the head of the Parliamentary Liberal Party’.

We all laughed; she had a point. From here on Dutto would be invisible.  “And I told him’, she clearly relished the power, ‘that if he was a good boy, I wouldn’t let on about his crab claw deformity and the fact that he represented the vast bulk of Queensland politicians as undercover half human victims of the nuclear testing of central Australia in the fifties and sixties’. And for the privilege he’s gonna play along, and this’ll make yer laugh I’ve got Angus onto it to make sure that as far as Dutto is concerned, we’ve put the lid on him. There’ll be no more trouble from that quarter.  he’ll be Jam-Landing in no man’s land till the cows come home. That’s why I have Angus in my pocket. He knows not only how not to get things done but divert whatever it was into OUR Cayman Islands Fund. For the good of the country’. 

Adem Somurek, slated to be the BIG MAN of Labor Politics in Victoria must now content himself with a taxpayer funded possie on the Upper House.

It didn’t sound right, but the way Sophie said it, with such conviction it seemed almost plausible. That’s why we were glad she was on the Bench of the Fair Work Commission to protect business from wage enterprise and fairness, someone had to do it.

 ‘Which gets me onto the business of the day’! Sophie deftly struck a match on the heel of her jackboot and lit up another Soberani, ‘to got to the point before I waste youse. Where’s the GOLD’? 

‘Or to be ladylike’, she made a sneering gesture in the direction of the sign on the edge of the oil rig, ‘to be lady like, give me THE FUCKEN GOLD!! 

 You have one minute to give me the gold, or’….. We could hear the click of the AK 47, ‘ you’ll be getting a taste of this gift from my dear friends in Russia’. 

Poor ol Gina, paid big bucks to attend the Trump 24 event and had to sit at the back of the room.

 She laughed again, ‘hhahahah’ more maniacally than ever. ‘Cos Vadimir, and me mates in Moscow have an each way bet that whatever happens in Ukraine, in the outback, or’ she scoffed ‘Windsor Castle we’ll come out on top.  Ha ha ha aha, she laughed possessed with this inner lunacy, a terrifying delusional laugh of self-belief and power over everything. She composed herself and continued with her soliloquy.

‘But I’m afraid for you lot, you’re destined’, she gestured with the muzzle of the gun, ‘you lot are gonna be somewhere a bit lower than that.  Somewhere about six feet below where i’m standing. 

 Give me the gold’.  

We looked at Sophie,

Gina in happier times as bit player, ‘A Town called Malice” (she had a walk on roll as an excavator).

She sneered at us, one pudgy bejeweled figure on the stock of the AK 47, the other pulling the Sobrani held by an extender, whilst she released the safety catch. All of this skillfully done whilst she let out three perfect smoke rings into the sparkling blue- ness of the central Australian sky. We had to hand it to her, she was classless, and indestructible.

‘Well then boys by my reckoning you’ve got about five seconds left, just tell me, you might live if you tell me, it can’t be that hard to choose between life and death, can it’?

We all thought, ‘what qualification could there be’? Life was hard, and death a sort of reprieve, and in the end, it was a hard one, either way you are stuffed, but in the stuffing somewhere hidden deep down lay the truth.

‘One last time boys!  Another perfect smoke ring; ‘tell me, just tell me, where the Fucken GOLD IS’!

 CAN OUR HEROES FIND THE GOLD?  

Will the gold deliver them from evil?  

Can they tell Sophie that the gold is just dangling above her head, cleverly painted over as a counterweight to the drill rig?  

 Find out in our next instalment, ‘Picnic at Dangling Block’! or

Poor ol Harry destined to be KING, except the Firm has so far dodged his cunning devices and soldier on. Cunning device seen whispering a word in his ear.

‘From Russia (via Sophie) without much love’. 

This installment of Dispatches is proudly brought to you by Stuart Robert M.P.  A great man who achieves greater efficiencies via mate-ship and insider confidence. We hope Stewie can be at the pointy end of arms procurement or at the very least an insider on the next subs contract. He likes doing things sub….

Dear reader,

another scintillating snippet for that seraph of the southern land, the scribe from the near north, the Pericles of the parched bits, that Cicero of the spinifex, our scribe Frank who incidentally goes by the name of ‘Frank’.

In this stunning installment, (in which one may detect traces of irony) he points to the usage of buildings and how these buildings communicate a message to ordinary folk like us.

He finished, (spoiler alert in describing how Norwegians refer to Viking as ‘Norse’).

A great statesman and emblem of the Arts. Sir Les Patterson, internationally famous in Australia.

We felt it incumbent upon ourselves being an internationally acclaimed media outlet and were relieved to find that our twin Morse telecommunications transmitters, and our ham radio were well serviced and working efficiently. Without them and the semaphore and heliographs installed at great expense, there would be no communication.  As it is, with our old Norse sets, we have tip top communication for that fateful day when unknown agencies may beat drums of war and knock out satellite communications, telephones, fax machines mobiles and fast food uber outlets for six.  We prepare for war as we drift into another hapless year. And did you know that it’s just 81 years since the sinking of H.M battleships Prince of Wales and Repulse off the coast of Malaya, (as it was then called). And just 81 years and one day since Pearl Harbour, and exactly 42 years since John Lennon was shot outside his flat for making too much noise. Well, now you know you are invested in the eternal truth of Australian Foreign Policy Sucesses and the cost of producing art.

Frank writes, (this message was decoded from Norse into Morse)

HM Battleships Prince of Wales and Repulse. When the pointy end of Anglo Australian Foreign policy was blunted.

Yasu!

When Australia’s cultural Ambassador, Sir Les Patterson, was asked why he’d returned to the Lucky Country, he replied in his inimitable vulgar manner: “To find me roots”

When I reminisce about my school days, it isn’t those kinds of roots that come to mind. No, what I remember is English teachers opening our minds to an awareness of Latin and Greek roots.
I do wonder if contemporary (Latin) curricula (Latin) place the same emphasis (Latin and Greek) on Latin and Greek roots as they did back then. I hope so.

 

Which brings me to the Greek prefix ‘meta’
Just like in Biology we have plants and animals, in Geology we have igneous, metamorphic, and sedimentary, not to mention metasedimentary rocks. Then there is metabolism, metaphysics, metastable and that horrible word metastasis.

Which brings me to my favourite: metaphor.

Big building, small justice

From time to time I mention that the Warlpiri people are masters of metaphor.
Soon after an NT policeman pumped three bullets into a young Warlpiri man in Yuendumu, a dignified peaceful gathering took place on the lawns in front of the Alice Springs courthouse in solidarity with the young man’s family and the Yuendumu community.
At this gathering Jungarrayi pointed to the largest building in Alice Springs, namely the Supreme Court, and likened it to Captain Cook’s ship.

Three years later, when the coroner and a wiggery of barristers (don’t worry, I had to look it up) visited Yuendumu, family and community raised the matter of the trial of the policeman having been, contrary to convention, moved from Alice Springs to Darwin. This had placed us at a great disadvantage when it came to attending the court and expressing our support for that young man and his family. Japanangka during the coroner’s visit mentioned the Alice Springs Supreme Court building:
“What is it there for? It is just sitting there doing nothing” he exclaimed.

Big Police emblem, very small man

I should mention that the coronial inquest which has now gone into recess until next February, is held in the much more modest local court house, while the Supreme Court looms not all that far away, doing nothing, as mentioned.

The idea of a large building sitting there doing nothing tickled my sense of irony.

There is a multiplicity of metaphors available to us that set great store by them. To name just a few, there is Ursula Le Guin’s ‘The Word for World is Forest’ and Claire Coleman’s ‘Terra Nullius’, the Swedish TV series ‘Real Humans’ and Australia’s own ‘Cleverman’

Recently a friend alerted me to the Norwegian TV series ‘Beforeigners’, a veritable smorgasbord of metaphors, such as “We don’t use the ‘V’ word (Vikings), we call them Old Norse”

Yasu!

Frank

Old Norse was converted to Australian idiom in the 1940’s.

Life is a highway… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2FX5DKRt2xg&t=3s

—

This episode has been kindly sponsored by Stuart Robert MP and his mates from Infosys. Stuart kindly declined an offer to be interviewed by this masthead, suggesting there was a conflict in his personal interests via the unnecessary and tedious requirement to be honest about his business dealings as a cabinet minister. WE heartily agree.

 Dear reader we return, unhappily, unwillingly, unflinchingly to our saga.

Three good men stand in the desert wastes of Outback Australia.

The dead centre.

A place so dead even the non-dead bits look a bit dead. Where only the nation’s finest, the thin blue line of justice, the NT, West Australian, Queensland police patrol an area a million times greater than Ferguson Missouri to do what their Life’s work is about. To imprison, to arrest and subjugate the lawless indigene’s who must be, if needs be KILLED so that they may learn the gift of good governance.  

This episode is bought to you by Hancock prospecting and a tribute to those stout heart and minds who reap benefit by cleansing the land of the taint of nativism and can turn a useless patch of desert into RIVERS OF GOLD! 

Sadly, though the very leader of the Hancock dynasty Gina herself is mired in a nefarious plot to gift Gold Ingots to the King, formerly prince Charles, now KING CHARLES the Turd. In order to secure a seat in the HOUSE OF LORDS!

For as we have discovered even the most powerful woman in Australia is in thrall to the biggest crime syndicate of them all, the ‘Firm’, aka, the House of Windsor.

Gina has lost the Gold, Sophie has turned up to find it, and Gina’s peerage may rest in the balance. It’s a three plumed disaster, and whichever way you look at it, it can only get worse.

Will the King succeed?

Will Gina get her Royal Gong?

Will our hapless heroes survive a deathly grilling from Sophie who, though bounded by the principles of fair play as a member of the Fair Work Commission, is callous, evil, indifferent to suffering. Or anything that tempers her taste for absolute and unlimited POWER! 

Gina, arguably Australia’s most powerful woman seeks a peerage from King Charles the Turd through the undeclared gift of several suitcases of gold bullion. Her kindness has not gone unnoticed by the GOP who’ve sked her if she’d like a seat on bench on the Supreme Court when she gets bored of being filthy rich.

We return to our saga;  

So, Sophie pulled out another Sobrani, haplessly we realised at the precise moment of Sophies arrival, we’d finally run out of Camels. We looked to Sophie for inspiration, perhaps the thought dawned we could bludge a smoke off her ladyship? We’d heard that before execution your entitled to a fag or a bottle of beer. Perhaps Sophie would be touched by one last brief compassionate gesture before unlocking the bolt of her Kalashnikov and riddling us more thoroughly than an empty pasta colander at a mafia dinner dance?

Sophie, however, was in no mood for trifle;

 ‘You thought you could get away’, she laughed again. It was worse than a Hyena on heat, worse than the sound that a little rabbit makes when its snared, worse than listening to Pauline Hanson in question time.. ‘You thought you could escape me, you thought’…  

Ces interjected; ‘But what we don’t understand.  Last time we saw you at Radium Springs, (the underground nuclear facility set up beneath Maralinga in the 1950’s) you were in a death dance with Old Potato Head Dutto. You’d exposed him for what he was, a crustacea like hybrid, and you were determined one way or another to finish him off! 

WE thought you were’.. He paused for added emphasis, ‘DEAD’! 

 Ha aha ahah…… ahahahah…. hahaha… ha…. and hahah more mad laughter ennsued.

King Charles the Turd auditions for the remake of Lawrence of Arabia.

“You can’t kill me!!!   It’s just not that easy.  

 See this’!

She patted her patent leather jack boot, it made a metallic clang, ‘It’s titanium alloy’!

‘See this’! She squeezed her kneecaps, and we heard a percussive thwack, ‘that’s pure molybdenum inserts’

‘And feel this’! We recoiled at the thought and gestured ‘no thankyou’, as her pudgy fingers caressed her thigh, ‘pure polycarbonate’!

And this! Her hands moved suggestively to her midriff, and all three of us being gentlemen averted our eyes, what with the jackboots, the whip, the pudgy bejewelled fingers and the leather skirt it was just too much. ‘Well look then you pathetic bastards”! At this we glanced upwards and stared back at the dry desert. ‘THIS….  it’s all space-age reinforced carbon- fibre with Zircon polycarbonate and anodised aluminium inserts’! Another metallic clang. ‘You see boys I’m not only bulletproof but I’m inflammable, I’m rust-resistant and then she snarled, I’m utterly impregnable’!

What could we do? We felt embarrassed. We’d rather not. 

‘SO BOYS’! She dragged on another sobrani.

Persistent rumors abound that Gina may be seeking more than a peerage and Camilla has been interviewed about the possibility of a serious secret rival kept by King Charles in the wings.

Tell me, in just one sentence what ya done with the GOLD!

‘If you cant give me a straight answer I’m afraid you’re use to me is over. And you’ll stay here for the carrion, and i’ll just go back to my safe possie on the Fair Work Commission. And, (she sniggered) to be Fair and do the odd bit of work and get commissions for back-room deals.  For boys that’s the sweetener of politics, whereas, youse, as mere journalists, just don’t get it’.

Will our heroes get it?

And if they do, will it be fully franked?

Find out in our next Fair Work Episode; ‘a commissioner in the hand is worth more than two from the push’. Or, ‘whichever way you look at it, you might be marginalised, underpaid and homeless, but Sophie will always be Ugly’!

There’s succor in that!

See no Conflict, Speak no conflict, Hear no conflict of interest! This edition of Musical Dispatches sponsored by Stewie Robert. A man who knows how to get things done and will look after mates in sourcing them the Taxpayer Funded RIVERS OF GOLD!

Dear reader,  with Crypto currency on the slide and a susserus of fear not seen since that fateful day in November 1929, and the drums of war, and what’s going on in Ukraine, and the tribulations of our erstwhile Glorious leader ‘Scomo’ in denying any responsibility to parliament and the people of Australia it’s comforting to read that there was, has, may have been a time when big plans made it big in ” Camp Rolfe’, (formerly Yuendumu).

Not the big plans currently in favour with the government to criminalise and imprison the majority of the male population for transgressing the laws of whiteness, but a bigger project that would surely put Yoonda, (now called ‘Camp Rolfe’) on the map. We won’t tell you what it is, we’ll let our scribe from the distant North West Frontier divulge that fact.  But rest assured, form Franks pen it will be a considered and important NATION BUILDING PROJECT!

So, grab your Michelin guide and thrown your chefs caps into the air, because thus nation building exercise will put Camp Rolfe, (formerly Yuendumu) firmly on the map. Albeit, we have a suggestion for Frank. Perhaps he should enlist the services of the Coalition’s very able minister Stuart Robert, He knows how to get things done, and is the man with the means and business connections to MAKE IT HAPPEN!

Stewie’s the FULL-BOTTLE on mateship. Mates Rates, and looking after Mates who are not even part of the parliamentary system. Cos he knows the ART of the DEAL, (D. Trump) and getting rid of RED and Green TAPE! ONYA STEWIE!

Over to you Frank, being yuletide; we converse with Frank via Ham Radio,. 

Amici,

Many years ago, some of us in Yuendumu fantasized a tourist attraction to rival Coffs Harbour’s Big Banana and Kingston’s Big Crayfish.

At the top of Yuendumu Hill, south of the town across the Tanami Road, we’d erect a tower topped by a revolving restaurant which in turn was crowned by a large Styrofoam, wait for it:

Stewie has an uncanny likeness to Max Schreck who did such a lot for the Funeral and Blood Transfusion industries way back in 1922. Could they be related?

Ta da!!…  The Big Witchetty Grub.

Just like the Restaurant at the End of the Universe, Ristorante Ngalkirdi never left the written pages.

Colpa mia, turns out my portrayal of this community I love, in My Yuendumu Story, is fictional. I found the true Yuendumu surfing the net when I came across the following:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k-edJy0b35o
Restaurants in Yuendumu, Australia

If you wish to book any of these restaurants to savour Yuendumu’s culinary delights, I am prepared to assist you with this and will gladly provide bank details. I also have a large bridge for sale in Sydney and a large rock in Central Australia.

For a more modest outlay you can have that fictional account (My Yuendumu Story) posted to your friends as a Christmas gift (now $44 due to increased delivery cost- mailed direct to your friend)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rU-0RP4UGoM

Mariza- Un Beijo de Saudade

From the head the hydra grows. (or was it the teeth?) A great leader looks to other ways to monetise his position as a fully taxpayer funded representative. The QUEST continues.

Ciao,

Frank

Tbis edition of pcbycp is sponsored by Adem, who is a shoe-in for a possie on the Legislative Council after the Victorian State Election. A victory for fairness and the democratic principles of good governance.

You’d think our heroes had had enough!

You’d think after all they’d been through; they have had enough, that they’d gone the full SCOMO to emerge beaten but unresponsive, unapologetic, and righteous to the last.  

But no, it was worse than that, after all they’d been through all the travails and tribulations, being imprisoned, being coerced, bludgeoned and bullied to Gundagai via far Kew you’d think that they’d be dead by now. But no! They’re still on the ground finding themselves up to their armpits in a filthy plot by Gina and her cronies to secure Gina a possie on the House of Lords.  Paid for by gold ingots via the greasy auspices of Australia’s most celebrated war jingoist ‘Brenny-Boy’ Brendan Nelson and Australia’s greatest, (arguably) ever war hero the VC winner, the giant of Tarren Kowt. The Cliff Roller, and the people plugger ‘Benny Boy’ Roberts Smith.

Adem talks to pcbycp staff on ethics and morality in governance.

In the previous episodes we learnt sadly that King Charles the Turd and all his Cronies at Windsor Inc, are in on the plot to divest Australia of its Gold reserves so that forelock tuggers can get a possie in the House of Lords. And for Gina, who has everything, she wants the very absolute of all that money can buy, prestige and respectability. But it aint cheap. And with inflation it just got more expensive!

But, breathlessly, we add, there is more. 

No sooner than ‘Brenny boy’ and his sidekick left them in the lurch than the arrival of their arch nemesis Sophie, on a Rotodyne. Sophie eviler than banality thereof, arriving and playing, not the ‘Ride of the Valkyrie’, as in ‘Apocalypse Now’, but something more and infinitely more sinister, a scratchy rendition of the Rolf Classic; ‘Two Little Boys’.

Our former, and some arguably say, our most ‘OUTSTANDING PM’, talks to the unanointed, (BY GOD) about his responsibility to lie, cheat and deceive for THEIR OWN GOOD!

Is there any Lower?

Is there a more corrupting influence, designed to torture an already tortured soul? Is it worse than Eurovision, the upcoming Commonwealth Games as cheap and tawdry? The situation they find themselves speaks for itself.  They are trapped, and as the door opens what pudgy countenance is there before them? It’s none other than custodian of Fair Work and oppressor of retired law professors herself, Sophie the anti- archangel Mirabella.

‘Hiya Boys, Pleased to see me’?

She took a long drag on the Sobranie, flicked the fly swash she held inner left hand, and putting one patent leather jack boot on the first step and her head raised in the ultimate triumph she said, ‘Show me the gold boys before I plug youse for good this time’.

A MAN OF CONVICTION! A MAN OF OUR TIME!

We stood stock still, the thin whisps of Camel Smoke, (the brand, not the animal) listlessly caressed our parched and wrinkled countenances. We envisaged a short cross examination, a trial and then execution. Why would we expect anything else? She would do to us, as she was doing to wage earners every day of the week. She was the chosen, we, mere ‘Untermensch’.

Ces picked up the olive branch,

in this case, being the desert there was only a dry fragment of Mulga and said; ‘But Sophie, in all fairness we’re innocent!  You’re chasing the wrong Blokes! It’s Julian and Benny Boy who flogged the Gold, and once again we’re in a pickle thought no fault of her own’.

Greg Mirabella, spearheading the Liberal Revival across Victoria

WE nodded sagely, surely this would prick Sophie’s compassion. Till we reminded ourselves there was no compassion. Still, Ces stoically pursued the course of Logic;

‘And Besides Sophie, why should you care?  You’re on the bench of the Fair Work Commission, and your old man is running the Victorian branch of the Liberal party to the delight of the electorate and your mate Scomo has got clear off for being a lying, deceptive God bothering bastard. Shouldn’t you just rest in the warm inner glow of the forces you support getting off the hook? Shouldn’t you just receive the publicly funded sinecure and all the perks as being enough? Shouldn’t you be happy, and just leave us alone’?

Sophie stamped her jackboot. Ces had hit a raw nerve. That was the problem with Sophie it was like trying to entertain a Crown of Thorns Starfish, there was all prickle and no softness.  Or a Box jelly fish, all softness and a deathly sting in the tail.

‘You talk to me of FUN!

You think THIS’! She waved her other bejewelled hand and the pudgy jewellery adorned fingers in the air, ‘You think this THIS IS FUN!

Destiny. ‘Commeth the hour’, (Testicles Chapt;1, v. 2). TWO LEADERS WHO WILL NOT LEAVE the public purse till it hath been FULLY DRAINED into their anointed pockets’. (Testimonials V.4, Ch,5, Old testament)

You have no idea what fun is until you’ve tasted RAW POWER!

Raw POWER is what motivates me, and now Gina has more power than I, I have no time for Time- wasters’. ‘You’! She glared; ‘are Fucken TIME WASTERS’!

‘Show me the gold or I’ll just grab it myself and leave three corpses Comprehende’?

We had nowhere else to go, this time she meant real business. ‘But, But’… Ces, equivocated; ‘Don’t you represent the democratic system and checks and balances inherent in the system. As a member of the Fair Work Commission aren’t you there to serve the Commonwealth and not’, he paused for emphasis ,,,’ yourself. Don’t you’?

Sophie cut him off in mid-sentence, ‘I’ll tell you Cecil if that’s what your real name is, the only reason I prevail is others like me, loathed, dispensed, relegated are still out there trying to outdo for mere pettiness and nastiness. Its an affront to my sense of self. WE can’t all be’, she spat the next word out, FAIR MINDED! It gets you nowhere, even SCOMO, ANGUS or BARNABY don’t want to be Fair- Minded.

But you’re then no better than’, Ces searched for a witty epithet, ‘no better than someone who just plays politics as a vendetta, for their own purposes, and nothing to do with the Commonwealth and the collective being of the nation.  You’er no better than Adem Somurek..

SELFLESSLY! IN GOD’S Service! HE WORKS ALONE!

Ha ha….ahahahhhh…..hahaha Sophie convulsed with laughter, Adem? He’s an amateur, and he, he… WORKS FOR ME!

This came as a thunderclap, or as this is set in the arid centre of the driest continent, it came as a sandstorm. It only begs the question; Will the trio survive Sophie’s retribution?

Will they show her the gold?

Or will they via subterfuge and fair- play outplay the evil Fair Work Commissioner?

Find out in the next episode, ‘Sophies Sophomore’, or

‘Cashed up and Cashless, Winners are Grinners, and isn’t that all of the time’?