This episode of pcbycp is bought to you by ‘Chesty Bond’ the perfect fit for Anzackery themed singlets and board shorts.

We return to our saga. And how the poles have shifted.

‘Benny-boy’ Roberts Smith, Australia’s most ruthless and decorated warrior now embarks upon a career in ballet, and ‘Brenny-boy Nelson’, custodian of the sacred oracle of Anzackery eschewed by Benny as the anti-Christ.

And our three heroes, pursued, pilloried and pinioned must fight their way to the bottom of the top and then do it all over again. The forces allayed against them are immeasurable, but so is their spirit. And in the end their spirit, methylated or otherwise must prevail. Because if it fails humanity is doomed as self-seeking, superficial and sub-Trumpian. 

Dumb just got Dumber

 So set the controls for the heart of mediocrity. Charge your mobiles with Brittany Higgins and a glass of Sharaz and hold on tightly as we unravel the truth behind, valour, delusion and self-indulgence. And remember as we write SCOMO still gets paid by the Australian Taxpayer for being the member for SCOMO.  In life, as in art there is always room for another gag. And if you’re a whistleblower a gag that fits. And voiceless? You’ll only hear the Dog Whistles, courtesy of His Majesty’s 47^th parliamentary opposition.

Read on;

A shoe- in for work with the Wagner group, and operatic stints doing Parsifal, Siegried and the Meistersingers aria, ” Rolling wops of Cliffs’.

It would have been nicer still if after this epiphany, things had just got better, but in the sack, the blobbed up sack that contained the inert form of ‘Brenny Boy Nelson’, something stirred.

And for a while Benny ignored it.

It was immaterial. Medals and the anointment as an Anzackery GOD-HEAD meant nothing to him.

He just wanted peace and an outlet for his art. It was Terry who heard it first; ‘What’s that Benny’?

Benny was in a world of distraction thinking of the final movement in ‘Sleeping beauty’.

‘Is that something you said’?

Terry aimed the question at Benny Boy. But Benny was busy humming the opening bars to Aieda. ‘I dunno! It could be? And what if it was’?

Benny ignored the movement.

They heard it again.

This time it was more insistent.

‘Arghththhee’..  a muffled sound oozed out of the hessian sack.

Poster for AWM’s adaptation of ‘Singing in the Rain’ with Benny Boy as lead role.

It was Brenny Boy, leader of the AWM, Benny Boy’s patron saint.  Upholder of the sacred oracle of Anzackery. Guardian of the noble warrior.  Custodian of the eternal truth. Lord Chancellor of the un questionable faith. And gloriously, the upholder of Christendom and the eternal and unsullied  whiteish-ness of Anzac. That sepulchure, shimmering, unquestioned and inviolate. True as the stars of the Southern Cross. To lead us all. Lead us in an eternal progress, of an eternal vision of God ordained right and might.  And a GOD who looked very much, in any way you view it, like Chesty Bond.

‘Hey Benny, it sounds like Brenny’?

It was Ces who summoned the courage to break Benny’s reverie.

‘I think you’d better let him out?

Do I have to’? Benny replied mutinously.

‘I mean what’s the fucken point, the blokes a useless little squirt arse-licker who like all of em gets paid way way too much for just doing his arse-lick job. Might as well get Kerry Stokes to open up the bag for all I fucken care’.

At the very least, since Kev solved homelessness in Australia and said, ‘Sorry’ we can concentrate on adding more Anzackery to public life. Whilst he promotes our culture to the gun-loving Americans.

It was disturbing, to see how Benny had rejected his patron and donor. We knew this would be a tension filed conversation, but though he was loathsome, and all of those things Benny had so described, he was still a human being.  And like Sophie; ‘the terror of the Fair Work Commission’, we knew that if he perished, we would be no better. We could sense the new anxiousness in his voice. ‘Brenny’ represented all that ‘Benny’ now revoked and reviled.

‘It’s gotta be fair! We can’t keep him there, and besides you must be tired carrying him and dragging Julian?

Nup, never felt fitter’! Benny was truly a giant of a man.

‘Well, just it’ll save your energy for what might lie below’. Ces tried to reason with the ‘Collosus of Khartoum’ and other parts of the Empire secceeded to the uncivilised natives who’d rejected CSR and Bex.

‘All right then’, Benny replied surlily.

Zac Rolfe another misunderstood WAR HERO! Rumored to be interested in Opera or Ballet post public life..

‘If I have to. But one crack from his nasty little gob and I’ll crack his fucken brains open. Don’t tempt me! It was him and his cheer squad of septic tank (yank) bum-lickers who sent me to roll wops off cliffs in the first place, and now they think they sent me on a sundee school picnic and rooted the Mother Superior. They’re all, C…….ts’ (we regret this inadvertent use of coarse language. Clearly a typographical error and mix-up with the accidental live link to the Brittany Higgins text messages, which are also, recorded for posterity, fairness and transparency via News Corp. Who like Kerry Stokes and Seven are first for integrity)

Benny stopped, and tossed the sack off like a dose of scabies,

We heard the sack hit the floor of the cave, and within the sack illuminated by the eerie glow of the bayonet, we sensed the movement. And then, the mournful and somewhat hysterical shrill voice inside; ‘For Chrissakes!

Get me outta here’!

With one deft stroke Benny waved the bayonet in the air, and with the surety and grace of a ballerina performing Najinsky’s passion, the sack was rent in two and out stumbled the exalted hero of the War Memorial.

‘What the?

Why the?

Where’s  Angus?

Is that you Kerry’?

When the public appetite dies for V.C winners, we might loose interest in war altogether?

Then looking up at Benny the fullness of consciousness returned. He beamed from a begrimed and pudgy little face. Piggy-like, he rubbed his eyes; ‘Benny-boy my son, we are SAVED!

KILL these men now and lets return to Gina! She and Kerry have a surprise for us! You will be amply  rewarded. New decorations to anoint your thrusting breast. Come on Benny waste em, and lets go up top. I see a new promotion in this! This is gonna be bigger than Whiskey 1087 and Whiskey a Go Go all put together. There could be a Croix de Guerre in this if there’s any frogs about. An Order of Lenin from the right sources perhaps?

C’mon Benny WASTE EM’ !!!

It was no use. Benny-boy just stood looking at him, his lower jaw, more formidable than the prow of an icebreaker.  He just stood resolutely and silent as a tomb. And as he gathered himself, he drew back. Recoiling in the abasement of his former leader.  He allowed himself to swallow. Collected ,himself and then spat a dollop of phlegm that hit ‘Brenny-boy’ firmly in the eye!

Brendan Nelsons jaw dropped when he realised the old Benny was no longer with him.

Benny Boy stared malevolently at his former manager.

And said

A bird in the hand anyone?

‘Nup. I aint doing your fucken bidding no more’.

(dear reader we apologise for this grammatical in exactitude) but we like to record events as they actually happen, and as a consequence some of the language may shock miners. And those involved in the industrial military compress)

Is this the end for Brenny?

Is Benny a bridge to far or two many?

Find out in the next episode,

“Darker! It’s so dark that even the white bits are black”, or

‘Denoument is a French word for; I want my Croix de Guerre back’

Basically the role of politicians and defence is one of absolute integrity and MATESHIP!

Dear reader,

THE CHALLENGE will be to find or commission a ballet which truly reflects the stature of a true Cultural icon who truly reflects Australian cultural values.

Incredibly, we return to our saga.

And the jaw dropping revelation that Australia’s greatest soldier ever has eschewed the God head of ‘Anzackery’ for ballet.

Is this a turning point in Australia’s strategic outlook? With broader ramifications for the AUK- WARD treaty and the readiness of attack class nuclear submarines for 2525?   Is it too early to assume that Australia’s military posture has stopped only just to pirouette, and find point with point?

 And what is the point of it all, when our finest embraces ballet and the fourth movement of ‘Giselle’, rather than the reassuring knock of an MG 42 or a brace of Claymores?  Find out in the next whirling episode.  And perish the thought for those who are unaware that a cultural renaissance of the arts may be Australia’s best ever long term defence policy. Defensively speaking. 

Read on…..

It was as if an incredible weight had been lifted from the giants’ shoulders.  Now that ‘Benny-Boy’ had opened up to us about his passion for ballet, we could feel a calm restored. And with it an immeasurable sense of well-being. It was almost as if the downward trudge in a stygian tunnel had led to a resurrection of sorts. it was a transformation akin to the star gate that featured so prominently for takers of hallucinogenic drugs in Kubrick’s ‘2001’.

Something in ‘Benny- boy’ Roberts Smith, (arguably Australia’s most decorated and famous hero and cultural icon) had changed and the effect was transformative. Whereas before we always felt a tincture of anxiety that he might bump us off as collateral or because he felt like it, now we knew that he really was our protector.

Tempered by a passion for ART!

And a protecter of Good-liness, rather than raw thuggish brutality.

The SAS operative, the calculating killer had been tempered by the force of ballet. Beauty had tamed the Beast.

The hands that so readily pulled the trigger were now the acme of celerity and grace. To realise this, that a man so devoted to killing could be reformed thus, left us stunned, and appreciative. We were now glad to have ‘Benny-boy’ on our side, and glad that his qualities of leadership were now tempered with compassion and a love for the third movement of the Nutcracker Suite.

‘Jeez Benny I’ll be you’ll be looking forward to getting on with your career in ballet when we get back’? Ces realised now that Benny once rough-hewn and abrupt as a two-inch mortar was now calm and appreciative that we all endorsed his unexpected career decision.

‘You betchya! Gotta tutu sorted in Sydney and with a bit o luck, though I’m not a poofta I can wear it in the next Mardi gras’. Benny beamed with anticipation. j

‘Onya Benny-boy’! Terry chipped in, ‘and for being such a sport have another Camel’.

Benny reached over his giant hand clutching the Camel and Ces quipped in;  ‘I’ll donkey root ya’, and in minutes, Benny slapped him on the back; ‘youse blokes are loveable bastards’!

Inspired by other famous Australians called ‘Robert”. Robert Helpman.

Benny puffed away merrily. His face, once angular and brutish now transfused with an inner solace rather like a Tintoretto altarpiece or a Cimabue fresco executed in his formalistic period prior to the elevation of Alberti and Mantegna as custodians of Algebraic compositional format and the birth of perspective. Our perspective had profoundly changed.  And for that we were beyond grateful.

In spite of the booming from deep down below the trio and their sidekick skipped along merrily.  The bayonet shimmering more brightly than ever, lit the way and the scrawls on the walls, demonic images of corpses, and deities inscribed by savages may have been decorations on a Moomba float for all they cared. All was good with the world. For once, all was wonderful and ballet and brutishness had met head- on. And art had won.

It signalled a new era.

A new dawn,

And…. A new page in the glorious annals of Anzackery.

Robert Hawke. Another famous ‘Robert’ demonstrates the size of his stipend.

An Anzackery now tempered by pink.

And Tuille.

And Gauze.

Gaily they trudged. And gayer the laughter and the gloom dispelled by the new spirit of Benny Boy Roberts Smith, former SAS hero, now ardent, passionate member of the Australian Ballet. A credentialled and certified war hero turned cultural icon, turned cultural hero in the great tradition of Sutherland, Helpmann, Nijinsky and Rolf Harris.

It would be nice if it stayed like that.

Is the die cast?

Stuart Robert MP. An OUTSTANDING ROBERT! The acme of ‘Mateship’.

Is the change permanent?

Find out in our next balletically enthused episode; “Point to point or use plier?

Or; ‘All that glissers is not gold”

King Harold, last of the Saxon Kings, promoted Arrows and Eye Surgery.

Dear reader,

just when you thought the Coalition’s health handouts in the dying days of their reign couldn’t get any worse we have a dangerous commentary from our scribe of the North-West frontier.

He’s questioning the Federal oppositions view on the Voice Referendum.

We at Pcbycp are disappointed.

Dutto, leader of HM Opposition promotes Dog-Whistles and fear.

Disappointed that though Frank has some view on the voice which the Federal Coalition is keen to exploit in the interests of the manufacturers of Dog- whistles, we were displeased and un-amused by his commentary on the Coronation.

WE at Pcbycp headquarters had the rear of the fish and chip shop (Airport Drive Niddrie) decked out in pageantry, Union jacks, and all manner of pomp. Even, Ms Caruthers, returned to us after her stint as parliamentary intern, (damaged and withdrawn) bought along her tea set, the one her parents used during the 1953 coronation telecast. Even though they didn’t have telly, they listened to it in raptures on the wireless.  As we in 2023 watched His Majesty arrive at Westminster the room was deathly hushed. We stood in awe and wonder as he stepped into the fabled cathedral to be anointed as head of the Church of England.

Dead KING GLORIOUS MURAL soon to be unveiled in the LEGENDS OF ANZACKERY Annexe at the AWM.

The Faith.

The Empire,

The bits of the globe still coloured pink. Representative of all the good the monarchy has done for us since Harold copped the arrow in the eye at Hastings.

We think Frank has lost his sense of history and would make the wry observation that just because the ‘Dutchies’ ditched their own royals and made them second tier public servants, there’s no need to have a go at our King just because he aint a Hollywood glamour-puss and has Jug ears.

So lay off, and anyone who has a go at even the notion of royalty, will get a back hander faster than you can say ‘ ANZACKERY”

Richard got a bad rap as ‘Dick the TURD’!

Frank Writes;

 

Hola amigos,

Janis Joplin introduced her song Mercedes Benz with:

“I’d like to do a song of great social and political import… and it goes like this:..

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MgBdVew5Lm4&t=2s

Paraphrasing Janis: I’d like to once again remind you of a speech of great social and political import

During his 1922 Sedition trial Mahatma Gandhi made a speech.  It included this:

“They do not know that a subtle but effective system of terrorism, together with an organised display of force on the one hand, and the deprivation of all powers of retaliation or self-defence on the other, has emasculated the people and induced in them the habit of simulation.  This awful habit has added to the ignorance and self deception of the administrators”

The ‘Dutchies’ had a go with William of Orange, well before Donald Trump made Orange Famous!

Sadly, more than a century later Gandhi’s speech still resonates.

Much has been written about the British Raj’s divide and rule paradigm.

‘Not going to deliver’: Peter Dutton slams PM’s ‘divisive Canberra Voice’

Shouted the April 5^th headline on Australia’s media oracle, Sky News

Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.  One of Australia’s most divisive politicians accusing his opponent of being divisive.

There are many ways in which Australian society applies divide and rule to subjugate the First Australians and their descendants.  In the Northern Territory how royalty distributions and law and justice have evolved and are administered and applied are prime examples.

Divisiveness about Australia Day the Frontier Wars Bilingual Education the Stolen Generations and pretty much everything else.

Charles 1 was way funnier than Charles 111

Another divisive issue in Australia revolves around the Crown.  I don’t often watch ABC’s Q&A.  In my opinion many guests are opinionated and miss the point.  When during the broadcast of King Charles III ‘s coronation, Q&A host Stan Grant dared to make some remarks alluding to the role Royalty had played in the appropriation of the southern continent which was to become Australia. Stan was subjected to a barrage of racist invective.

When I watched the coronation, I thought it was very funny.  Prince Charles, before he became King Charles III looked absolutely mortified throughout the ceremony, like some unfortunate animal in the headlights of a fast approaching vehicle.  At times he looked like he was going to fall asleep.  When he was briefly hidden to be disrobed, I half expected him to emerge from the screens like the famous Emperor with no clothes.

In case you missed it:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HpL75qe0HpA&t=3s

Interesting was when he was presented with the Royal Spurs, the significance of which eludes me.

But not half as much fun as Charles 11. The ‘Merry Monarch’.

And then of course the highlight, the crowning itself.  The Archbishop clearly hadn’t rehearsed this as the not altogether fitting crown threatened to slip from his hands and fall to the ground.

I was thinking that I was being rather cynical about a moment that many of my contemporaries found majestic and emotional.  Seen by them as a moment of history in the making which it was a privilege to witness.

Mercifully, I’m not alone.  On the internet I found John Cleese talking about the coronation.  He too found it very funny (couldn’t stop laughing).  He thought it was like a Monty Python episode.

Adios

And the Prince Regent, George 1V wasn’t half bad for good- times also.

Frank

PS Bix Beiderbecke was an outstanding cornet player.  At the young age of 28 he collapsed during a paranoid episode, having effectively drunk himself to death.  American society was divided about the merits of ‘negro music’ and I have no doubt that Bix, the son of German immigrants, suffered from this division.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GTnrT3_BLZ0

But when Victoria arrived the fun times were over, as it was the earnest task of building the greatest Empire the world has ‘Never’ known. Fragments of which are now invested in his Royal Highness King Charles the turd. (old traditions die hard)

—

 Down and down… and then further down.

Pollies love Downer. Every project a high viz photo op!

How much further down can this series get?

If there is any more down than deep down we can be glad that Universities, hospitals and not just just over inflated “ Big Build Projects” have been handed over to Downer.

Another example of the trickle down effect. And Downer knows how to spend all that public infrastructure money on its shareholders and make little projects really really bloody big. In the end just like PWC it’s a win win for Contractors and consultants. And an absolute bonanza for the shareholders. It’s beyond rent- seeking, it’s Big Businesses who know the business of making business, from thin air. And what might the thin air be? That’s it, the supine, compliant, dolts who are the Australian electorate and taxpayers. Another clear win for the ethos of Angus and its patron saint Angus Taylor, who made this sort of inner networking respectable.

Downer also does hospitals! Aged care must be on the agenda!

And of respectability, What’s the cost of respectability these days?

Getting a public relations firm to kick your credentials can be pretty pricey, unless you’ve got rich mates. Benny Boy Australia’s most noble soldier, warrior, Prince of the Pathan, has mates and Kerry ‘s not short of a quid or two. Perhaps that’s why Benny is silent as they trudge downwards. For his cohort, there seems to be something wrong, and whichever way you slice it, a pall hangs over our undisputed national hero. Is Anzackery on the wane?

Is the unquestionable truth of Anzackery under question? We hope not, because that would make Australia un-Australian and such a thing, is too horrendous to contemplate.

Alex, though not part of Downer, showed them the way on East Timor oil. Onya Alex!

We need an aussie who represents contemporary Australia. An aussie who is white, middle aged, suburban, big and undaunted. To be a hero. So that we may prevail against savages. If it were revealed that the savages were more civilised than Benny Boy and the god head of Anzackery it’d deal a mortal blow to white men across the Empire. Worse than the loss of the colonies. Worse than the fall of Singapore. Worse than Brexit, Megcit and ball tampering. Australia would be revealed as just another dot of posturing stupidity at the Bottom of the world and we know, rest assured that that will never happen. Because that would require self reflection and insight, and gladly we are leached of such trivialities.

So we return to our saga, and divulge one more time, what fate awaits our three heroes. Undisputed common heroes and the guardians sent to administer justice, ‘Benny Boy’, ‘Brenny Boy’ exalted leader of the AWM and Julian, (‘no mother it’s not I who would bury USB Sticks in the backyard’) Assange.

It was Ces who noticed the silence. And nudged Quent,’ what’s with Benny Boy?

‘I dunno’, Quent replied, ‘he’s not his usual self. Wonder what’s got into him’?

If Downer can make rent-seeking pay. Why can’t PWC?

Terry overheard the whispering, and replied, ‘he’s probably dissed that I haven’t passed round another packet of Camels. That’ll cheer him up.  Hey Benny, would ya like another camel’? The trio waited for a reply. Whereas in the past a mighty hand would be thrust forward and Benny’s booming laughter would instill in them all a sense of inner confidence, the non-response left them feeling anxious.

‘Jeez that didn’t work? May be I’ll try another strategy’. Terry offered the first inducement for Benny boy to speak. ‘Hey benny, did ya hear the one about the wog who was rolled off a cliff?  Knocked his teeth out and then bought up the top of the cliff to be rolled again’?

Nothing down about Downer!

They all waited for the reply.  Whereas once it would be a booming, “ Yeah they knocked the rest of his teeth out and then gave him lead filings’!!!  But now. All of a sudden, their talisman, their hero was subdued, and it worried them, only the dim light of the bayonet to guide them.  Benny’s trudging, and the sound of the stretcher carrying Julian and the hurrumph as he shifted the weight of Brenny Boy on his shoulders. Indeed benny Boy undisputed national hero was a giant of a man, but some inner force had subdued him. And armed to the teeth, lethal and primed to shoot, it had our heroes worried.

‘I say Benny’ Ces chipped in; ‘don’t you think it would be good when we get outta this that we goin on a special op back to Kabul and resurrect the sprit of the Fat Lady’s Arms’? Ces had timed his offer to perfection and thought that with the term ‘Op’s only carried out by ex-soldiers, it might trigger something. An inner resource in Ben, just as ops had triggered the enthusiasm of Zac Rolfe in gloriously killing Kumanji walker at Camp Rolfe, ( formerly Yuendumu) . It was a desperate gambit, but with Benny subdued it was worth a go. A depressed serviceman, as Tacitus sagely said;’ will upset the equilibrium, the espirit de corps’. And none of us wanted that.

‘Hey benny, are you all right’? It was Terry who got to the point.

‘I mean is something not quite right’? And then undaunted went to the chase, ‘RUOK’?

Benny said one word. ‘Nup’!

We all waited, still more silence,

‘And why’s that’? Terry enquired.

‘I’ve lost my passion for the service’.

Seriously heroic. And as you’d expect self-deprecating and humble.

‘Oh’, we were all flummoxed.

‘Yep I’ve been thinking, I’ve lost my passion for King and Country, I don’t want to kill anymore, I’m sorry for what I did rolling wops and killing peasants, I want, I want’. We all gasped at this denunciation, this reversal of a national hero and felt very uneasy, as though the very foundations of our world , our belief system, and integrity had been taken from under us.

‘I just want to be’…

The pause at the end of that half phrase was excruciating.

We trembled at the disclosure that was coming. Anticipating with every fibre of our collective being a denouement, a fall, a reconfiguration which from hereon, the poles of our emotional world would be irretrievably reversed.

‘I wanna’

We could hear the agony, the torment that Benny was going through and it pained us.

‘It’s just I wanna’…

The anticipation was beyond excruciating and finally Ces cracked, ‘all right then What EXACTLY do you wanna be’?

No ego. Self effacing. A typical ‘reluctant hero!

‘ A…… A’……. he stammered trying to get the words out.

‘I wanna be’,

‘A ballet instructor’.

We all stopped shuffling. The Cave, the passage, the tunnel, took on another dimension. It became a void as our souls leached by the physical presence of the deep earth and a fallen man, recoiled in shock at this final disclosure.

‘A ballet instructor’? Terry was the first to enquire.

Always ready to shout a beer, or a prosthetic leg.

‘Yeah ballet. I fucken love ballet. I was thinking Stravinsky’s fire dance when I plugged the bloke at Whiskey 18 and then the interlude in the nutcracker when I rolled the wop off the cliff. And finally, (he seemed happier now), I exalted when  I killed them three wops outside the Fat Lady Arms when I thought of the slow movement in Orpheus. It really got to me, and it made all of the killing’, he paused again, ‘irrelevant’,.

‘I’m really into ballet..

It sustains and nourishes me,

Nothing else MAKES SENSE’!

We were flummoxed, nut greatly relieved, he truth had come out and it was wearing a tutu.

Will this mark the turning point of Anzackery?

Will Ben’s renunciation lead to a different kind of SAS, one with feelings and the appreciation of light and love?

Find out in the next episode,

‘The killer wears a tutu’

And an upholder of ‘family values’ .

Or ‘Line em up and don’t shoot till you see their ballet ruses’?

Dear reader,

another un, from our scribe of the North-West Frontier.

there is no doubt,. If we hadn’t bought the F 1 11 we’d be all speaking Indonesian.

A man who LIVES ALONE!

A man who won’t be compromised.

Won’t be compromised by Fridge Magnets.

By Shiny medals.

Or a well meant, but skewed editorial by the ‘Catholic Boys Daily’ (The Australian).

Or the promise of Glory.

Shiny medals.

Or; the glory of Anzackery’s  finest anointment. A V.C!

To be worn gloriously.

If we hadn’t bought the F 1 11 we’d all be commie.

And evoke the eternal flame of those who have fallen.

Gloriously.

So that we may have the bounty  of Sportsbet 24/7 and Housing non- affordability and those who lift and not lean from PWC.

And a note of caution. Frank is questioning the wisdom of F1 11’s in the sixties. That according to the wisdom of Anzackery is apostacy.

Frank writes thus;

Good moaning (remember ‘Allo’ ‘Allo’?)

Lined up side by side. It kept the Russians at bay

There is a well known adage “If you pay peanuts, you get monkeys”

When it comes to our politicians in Australia we pay pistachios and macadamias and we still get monkeys.

In the late 50s the highest paid job during the summer school vacations was stacking hay. It paid ten shillings an hour. Yet another job swallowed up by automation. These days a machine spits out huge weatherproof round bales wrapped in a plastic franger. To put that ten shillings into context, at any corner milk bar you could buy a crayfish for eight shillings.  Then some bright spark relabelled our crayfish “Australian Rock Lobsters” despite the absence of claws.  Almost overnight crayfish disappeared from milk bar display counters.  The whole cray catch was exported to the United States.

And kept us on-side with the septic tanks !

What did we get in return? A wing on an F111 fighter jet!

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

The latest from that dog whistle virtuoso, our illustrious leader of the opposition, is that he wants ‘work for the dole’ brought back. In true Joseph Goebbels style, the fact that ‘work for the dole’ never went away doesn’t bother him.  Never let facts get in the way of scoring political points.

Disingenuous is a word which describes much of what we do in Australia.

In Yuendumu I suspect that the cost of the CDP jobs provider setup is greater than the total paid out to work for the dole participants.

And before that, on-side with the Frogs. Was our relationship with the Frogs just a mirage?

And don’t get me started on nuclear submarines.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Brp8Va8XVQw

Chau,

Frank

Dear reader,

once again, we return to our saga.

Stuart Robert and the bloke from PWC are Mates

A saga that seems to have more twists and turns than a PWC contract or perhaps a submarine contract in the making that’s not really a submarine contract but just an open ended; “please can I be on your team” cri de Coeur. A ‘cri de Cooee’ from an isolated colony that looks to the west and averts its eyes from the east. Because it is too insecure to realise that Empire of the white Sliced bread type is over.

Kaput.

FINISHED!

That’s why we gaily invade our hinterland, so as to effect what BP did at Mafeking.

What Elphinstone did at Kabul, (briefly in 1842) and what Gordon tried valiantly to do in Khartoum, and that is keep the flag flying.

Yes folks  the mighty imperial flag of the white empire. The white colonies and the White Queen who imperiously sent good men to their doom knowing that they were custodians of the imperial façade. And though it may be tattered, worn and found only in op shops it’s all that remains of the world’s greatest empire and the insistence that in the end there is only one voice and that is the voice of white man. That’s why God’s white.

Last time we said ‘grace’ she wouldn’t smile for the PM. Poor form.

And his voice, the only voice comes from white lips, parched by desert sands and that voice is custodian of white bread approved by educational establishments the world over and its co-sponsored by CSR, and Bex powder.  Refiners of whiter than white goods for good families, who say ‘grace’.

But what grace awaits our heroes?

We can only conject.

We know one thing, that they’re doomed.

Doomed by fate. By circumstance and whatever they do. The System always gets its way. Systematically speaking.

So let us return to the cave, the cauldron, the pit, the black hole, and see how they’re getting along.

Our three heroes and the two sidekicks. The ‘odd couple’; Benny Boy Roberts Smith, Australia’s greatest and most noble decorated soldier Ever. And his sidekick Julian (is Bell Marsh the worst you can do’) Assange, and their burden.  None other than the most exalted head of Anzackery Inc, the billion dollar makeover, and custodian of the ‘Benny Boy Roberts Smith light and sound display’ at the AWM.

Something may have changed in Benny Boy. But to our thinking he’s still Australia’s greatest ever noble soldier. He has a VC Tattooed on his chest fer Chrissakes!! How Anzackery is THAT?

And for those who don’t know and AWM is. It’s the Australian War Memorial.

Secular church for those whose religion is ‘Anzackery’!  Bloody sacrifice and the legacy of those noble wars across the Empire to spread pinkish hues and the boons of civilisation. Their quest is eternal and like the holy grail in Valhalla, adoration and their apotheosis as GODS await.

But back in the tunnel it’s all pretty mundane, and rather, (as there is little lighting) drab.

We return to our heroes:

‘I dunno, if it goes down any further we’ll end up in China’!

Ces and Quent laughed in a hollow sort of way. Quent punctuating the sound of shuffling and the scraping of the improvised stretcher in which Julian lay trailing into the dust behind them. Sinister and melancholic echoes, where  the souls of countless generations of naked savages had adorned the walls with their primitive scrawls and incoherent, scrubbings. Our talisman, Benny Boy, holding his Bayonet which shone an eerie light, our inly illumination and being a natural hero, we followed.  Down and further down.

Benny and Brenny. Brother’s in ARMS!

‘Spose if we get to China, they’ll wonder what we’re doing with Australia’s most noble soldier and Julian., Do you think they’ll like Julian? Would they use him as a prawn’?

Quent laughed, ‘don’t you mean a pawn, I mean he has a knack for getting secrets’.

‘Yeah;, said Ces reassuringly; ‘only he leaks more readily than an AUKWARD TREATY sub or a colander. They’ll probably do what they all do with tricky people. What’s that? asked Terry.  ‘Just kill him and harvest his organs for senior party members’.

There was a silent interval as our heroes digested the fate that awaited those with re- useable organs.

A V.C and an M.C. Two for the price of WON!

‘That’s a bit crook’ said Terry. ‘I mean look at him, his organs are pretty shot. Did you see the complexion, I wouldn’t touch his organs with a barge pole, I mean Bellmarsh aint doing him any good. Yeah’ Ces Chipped in;  “But at least he gets a regular feed’.

‘And telly’, Quent enthused, ‘it aint that bad, No waterboarding, and from what I’ve heard even though he’s doing chokey he can still get a shag’.

We all agreed that it can’t be all that bad for Julian. ‘And besides’, chipped in Terry; ‘there’s other advantages, ‘he gets free heating and he’s not homeless, which is more than you can say for any Australian who hasn’t got on the ladder of prosperity’.

Yes’ Quent confided, ‘home ownership seems to be a thing of the past for young Australians, Julian seems to have that sorted. Yep, Terry replied, it aint a home its more an institution, but from what I’ve heard they’ve got telly’s swimming pools and gyms and everything.  Who said Crime doesn’t pay’?

Julian in a pensive mood. Rembrandt never got paid for the portrait. Typical!

They all agreed, that Julian wasn’t doing so bad, and with Brenny Boy still unconscious they felt reassured that they had a measure of security. Something they could count on as a bargaining chip or just as Crown Resorts had shown they could get off, if they knew the right people. ‘Just as the management of PWC had’. Terry Quipped, ‘Yep’, Quent affirmed, ‘they get connections, people in high places may save us yet’?

With that thought, they continued their downward trudge, and resigned themselves to whatever the thunderous pulse, the beat that sounded from deep below, they had a measure of security, ‘cos even the Chinese government Ces opined, would find Brendan Nelson, even in a vegetative state would be worth something’.

Through all this thought and conjecture they trudged, caring not what lay below only happy that they’d survived and for the moment escaped the wrath of Sophie Australia’s exalted Fair Work Commissioner.

But in all their euphoria they had failed to notice one singular thing. Benny Boy who carried the inert form of Brenny Boy Nelson like a sack of Wet mice and pulled the stretcher with Julian Assange behind had not said a word. Benny Boy was uncharacteristically stone quiet. They only noticed after an hour or two, whereas usually in the past he’d open up and describe with some lucidity rolling wops of cliffs, now he was as if a mask had concealed his voice and rendered him mute. He still held the bayonet like a shining white sepulchre, but for the rest of us he was uncommonly cold and quiet. What had happened to Benny? What had stilled this giant of a man?

We could only guess.

But were afraid to ask.

Good thing Sheilah’s can’t get the V.C. Otherwise we’d be in deep trouble.

And fearful at this new silence, we trudged onwards, into the dark and only benny’s bayonet to light the way, An antichrist, a superman, a dark knight, only time would tell.

Find out in the next implausible episode: ‘When the Anzac Cracks’, or ‘Anzackery or the Knackery in two easy steps’.

HERO. LEGEND Demi-GOD!