Mateship. Mates you can TRUST!
‘Closer and closer the election day creeps, each day so protracted its feeling like weeks,
with arguments lacking for eruditon, imagination and wit, the best we can do is wallow in shit’
Dear reader if this is the best we can do from Australia’s only poet laureate, Sir Rolf of Harris we really are at the nadir of ‘Australian Creativity’.
‘Australian Creativity’ you may ask?
Surely with Super releases for new home buyers, an increase in the offset levy for high income earners and the twin pillars of franking credits and negative gearing assured you couldn’t find a more epoch making high water mark of Australian creativity?
With the arts all but stifled and undergraduate degrees costing possibly more than it does per capita to keep indiginies in jail, this must be as good as it gets?
Luckilly there’s no Australia Council to guide and instruct and inspirec, but just the simple logic of greed. Cos ‘greed is good’, and ensures that the status quo of fat cosseted middle aged white male bastards is kept intact. Anything else might just smack, (OUCH!) smack of tokenism.
MATES who SHARE the SAME VALUES!
But what of our heroes,?
Are they mere prawns to be tossed upon the electoral barby?
Are they a sausage sizzle outside an electoral booth too far?
Is there hope for them?
Or are they, like all those older women who are not fortunate enough to live in inner-ring suburbs, divorced and car pooling as emergency accomodation destined to be cut off as a ‘forgotten people’? Cut adrift from all support and meaning as active agents in the political process, mere chaff to the wind, cos they were unlucky in love, unlucky in marriage, and just plain unlucky! Whichever way you look at it, they’re in a pickle, but at least not buried beneath the wastes of Maralinga. While there is still time, there is still hope. And where theres hope there’s hopelessness. So if hope springs anew, we return to Radium Springs and find out just what happened to Sophie and Dutto as they battled it out for the pre-eminent sinecure post politics. Will they like Christopher Pyne land a life long sinecure on defence contracts with a parliamentary pension? Or will they like Andrew Robb, be able to get a gig with a consortia to buy the Darwin port or a local hospital?. Find out and have renewed faith intact cos with mates, theres always a kick-back and the gravy boat is always full.
We return to the dusty, dark streets of Radium Springs.
‘Bugger you Dutto , you couldn’t find a crab stick in a Bain Marie’…
MATES! Who have a shared suspicion of science and TROUBLEMAKERS! ( Journalists and an informed public).
With that Dutto’s unbroken antennae twitched nervously. His crab-claw clickety clacked menacingly, and his rounded shiny exoskeletal head turned a bright crimson with rage.
“OH YEAH’! He bellowed triumphantly into the gloom. ‘Think you can evade me Sophie? You might be smart but you aint that smart. I can smell your cheap froggy perfume from here, and I’ll track you down’!
‘It’s not cheap I got it on that trade mission to France as Gina’s Coal convention convenor, ‘Briquettes to the Bois Boulogne’ when we were working on the froggy sub contract’.
MATES who know the value of LEADERSHIP!
‘What the’ (Dutto fumed)….. I own that contract’?
Dutto was incensed,
“Yeah, you THOUGHT YOU OWNED IT’!!.
From the gloom somewhere a maniacal laugh; ‘Like you thought you owned a lot of things…… Chrome Dome’!!.
What you didn’t know is that we had the Submarine the frogs ordered and we weren’t gonna make it diesel electric. We were gonna do it for Australia, the worlds first Coal powered Submarine, The Pepys le Pew. And you, you fat ugly bastard was gonna launch it till SCOMO stuffed it up by telling Macron to Stick his Gauloise up his Arch de Triomphe!
It was all planned fat head! And you and yer mates from the Sunshine State even the beet rooter would be none the wiser. So take that’!
From somewhere in the gloom a can of sun-ripened beetroots hit Dutto smack on his crab claw! You could tell it hurt, but Dutto being a Queensland Copper true and through knew what to do with it. With a dexterity more professional than one of Warnie’s googleys he sent the tin of beetroot flying back from the direction from which it came, and in doing so deftly sliced the tin open. From the distance you could hear and audible slop and the sound of an irritated individual flicking sliced beetroot from her shiny jackboots.
‘Is that the best you can do FAT-HEAD’?
And how to stop their HEAD EXPLODING!
Dutto snarled, ‘I’ll flay you alive and after I’ve cooked you. Ill feed you to the’…… He was about to say Crocodiles but thought of something worse; ‘the press gallery and after they’ve finished with you you’ll be as a happy as that uni professor you stuck on a shed on yer back paddock till you’d fleeced him of his funds, Wouldn’t you like that Sophia me old tart’?
With the word ‘Sophia’, the very word that the girls at St Catherine’s had taunted her for being “multi-cultural’ (A swear word to someone of Sophie’s sensibilities) there was an audible rumble, and from out of the gloom a shopping trolley filled to the brim with sides of pork, ham slices and full pork legs splattered all over Dutto’s crustacean self. ‘Heres more for your pork barreling’! And before she could finish the sentence, Dutto vanished.
By some artifice, he’d worked out where the voice was coming from and seeing his opportunity, slid down a sewer pit, and made his way to the source. Sophie had perhaps only seconds before a confrontation, crept from out of the darkness into the streetscape, and proclaimed, ‘Chickened Out? Couldn’t handle the heat? I thought you were a crab man, not a chicken,’?
And from behind her, more stealthily than the paperwork required to make a joy ride to anywhere a parliamentary privilege, she felt the claw tighten around her throat. Sophie had met her match, but that just made her more dangerous.
Will Sophie get out from Dutto’s clutches,? Will Dutto reign supreme in the dark world of Radium Spings?
Simon Birmingham sniffs the wind, could be changing direction for the Coalition?
Find out in our next pre-election episode, ‘Sophies got my craw’, or ‘Duttos daliance with destiny deals devilishly dangerous for undecided decorously clad desmoselles in un-distress’.