Dear reader, we return to our saga, once again, much like Fox news the events we describe seem improbable, but then as Ian Fleming was fond of saying, ‘ Never say never”!

And it is from the nether regions of the soul we bring you this tale of torment. This tale of indescribable woe in which out three anti-heroes are pursued, punished, and pulverised. Not for their beliefs but for the crime of being naïve.  It’s a sort of Julian Assange paradox. As the years fly by, it’s not what he did, as no one can remember, in the afterlight of what a twenty-one-year-old can do to intelligence, but that intelligence in any way shape manner or form seems unintelligible.  And no one can remember what he is being punished for in the first place. Save that whatever is said or written, he must be punished!!  

The Julian Assange paradox. All round good treatment for whistle-blowers

For that is the way of things in the alternate fact, witness K scheme of things.

That’s, why we support the industrial military complex in Ukraine cos it’s gotta be better than the Russian one. And the good guys are on our side.  That’s what Angus Taylor told us and he’s a man of character. He’s got the Liberal party to where it is today. There is no prize for standing by your conviction, and if nepotism, graft, and corruption is what you need to stay in power, the optics are good. That’s what sustains Donald, he’s got the optics right, and their tinged in an orange hue. He’s probably an Orangeman. Donald would support William of Orange and would draw the line on gays as school captains, and that demonstrates a stand on standards, if we don’t stand on standards, we have nothing to stand on.

So standing on principle we return to our saga, just at that point when they revealed to us, the crumpled figure of Brendan; ‘Brenny Boy Nelson,” the sole occupant of the helicopter that plunged into the chasm. What a chasm, and we haven’t even mentioned Sophie yet. Juurkaan Gorge anyone?

We return to our saga. We acknowledge we’ve said this before, but we just want to see if you’re paying attention.

‘Jeez’, Ces spluttered as Benny-boy leaned into the crumpled cockpit and with one mighty hand lifted the crumpled figure up and lay him on the ground. The face quietly at peace and illuminated by the flickering glow of the helicopter fuselage as it quietly smouldered, its rotors a forlorn heap of twisted metal and non – whirring- ness.

No Whistle-blowers at Fox.

‘I reckon he’s just unconscious’.

Benny turned him over and checked his pulse, ‘he’s still breathing, look’! And in his hand, he clutched a small object. Benny as expertly as if he was tossing a wop off a cliff opened the clenched hands, and there within the sweaty palm a document. ‘Open it open it’!  Ces Urged. ‘Wait’! Quent remonstrated. ‘It may be top secret and our future may be at stake’.

‘Future Smuture’ scoffed Julian, and with an alacrity borne by being a ratbag, he swiped the document from the clenched hand and read aloud…

“Quis quod sibilus ictus audet’ ( English translation) ‘He who has the biggest whistle will blow loudest’! or….’Who whistles for the whistle blower?

‘Well, I’ll be a dead Dingo’s donger’, sighed Quent, ‘it looks official, what is the monogram there’? Quent pointed a stubby finger into the right-hand corner, and sure enough three plumes and a monogram ‘CR’ That’s either a new look for the CWA or I bet its none other than prince, now King Charles’s monogram. And look here’! Julian read the address, ‘it says right here Highgrove Buckinghamshire’. They all gasped. It was from the King himself. ‘And he aint even been coronated yet. Shows what a divine right to be a chinless wonder can do. His power is immeasurable! Jeez this is from King Leonardo himself, look here’! And countersigned in red ink the unmistakeable scrawl, ‘Camilla, ‘and she’s in on it. This document is an order, by the highest authority to bring Quent and Ces and their sidekick Terry to Justice’.

It read.

‘Your order is to capture those scallywags and bring them to justice. Dead or Alive! No one shall know of that they found in the arid wastes as it belongs to me. Only you as custodian of ‘Anzackery’ is instructed to being them to me, and once delivered a peerage is in the bag, and we’ll talk about another few million for Gina, as we know she can afford it.

Yours Charles Rex.

‘Well that just about takes the cake, who would’ve thought, it goes straight through Gina to King Charles himself. What a ratbag’!  And turning to Julian Ces affirmed, ‘and we thought you were a ratbag, but mate, you’re just amateur’.

Julian gave a wry smile, ‘I always had the royals to look up to, I thought if I kept at being a rat-bag I might end up respectable like them’!

Royally rooted!

He had a point, we felt sorry for the poor bastard.

‘Still though, what good is it being wanted felons, Brendan is working for the firm and that means we’re rooted Royally’! We could hear the sound of the tom toms, getting perceptibly louder. ‘We better get out of this fix or royalty or no royalty we’ll be in the pot for dinner and Sophie’. Just at that moment Brendan groaned, ‘he’s coming too’! And not too soon, for just at that moment we could hear the savage cry of savages, and in the distance the inchoate bellow of Sophie, more frightful than a banshee, a harpy, a golliwog.  ‘We’d better think of something quick’! And at that moment, the first of the spears as if from nowhere flashed past the and embedded itself into the wall of the chasm.

Looks like this is it, and to am n they had run out of time, but loke, might still be on their side,

George Brandis as our High Commissioner in London

Find out in the next episode, ‘will luck divorce them at the altar’? Or ‘try as they may, they might get a trifecta of trouble’!

Stuart Robert MP knows a lot about media and keeping the story straight on Fact from Fiction.

Another reflection from our man from the northwest Frontier.

In this-un he tends to suggest that most mainstream media have got it wrong.

We agree, that’s why we choose to read only the Catholic Boy’s Daily, (the Australian) and watch Fox News for factual alternate facts. It keeps us on the ball and we hope that all this nonsense about Rupert being behind the stolen election bias will just go away. If only people would mind their own business and let reputable news agencies get on with the job the world would be a safer place. And it’s a source of real comfort to know that Angus Taylor will be hosting our next big event. ‘The Ethical Journalism Awards’, co-hosted by Stuart Robert at the Crown Palladium Ballroom. Bring your own sachet of white powder. 

Frank writes….

Ave

Shortly after a policeman had been charged with murder for shooting a young man in Yuendumu, the judge issued a comprehensive court injunction.  The matter was sub judice and not to be aired in the media.  For instance, the defendant’s military record was not to be discussed, nor any other aspects of his stint with the NT Police.  Up until the not guilty verdict more than two years later, the Yuendumu community and the family of the victim maintained a dignified silence and adhered to the injunction.

Wearing of headphones incorrectly is a capital offence.

Despite this, a journalist and a photographer turned up in Yuendumu and started filming and interviewing grieving members of the victim’s family.  The duo from the Fourth Estate were approached and politely told that they should have waited and could they please refrain.  They took no heed and released a biased video on mainstream media which portrayed the victim as a dangerous criminal and the accused as a heroic figure who’d had no choice but to do his job.  This was followed by a relentless campaign on Facebook and by certain sectors of the media, aided and abetted by the NT Police association and the accused’s family.

This culminated in defense counsel Edwardson declaring after the not guilty verdict had been announced that the victim had been the author of his own misfortune.  Sadly, their campaign succeeded to the extent that there are still large numbers of people who believe this to be the case.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ltPN8QSZk84&t=2s

Ain’t Right to Blame the Victim- Steve Harrison

In 1898 H. G. Wells wrote War of the Worlds which 40 years later was adapted by Orson Welles for radio. The radio broadcast included news bulletins reporting on an invasion of earth by Martians. The newspapers reported on the widespread panic the invasion had caused.  The invasion was fiction, the panic was fake news. Orson Welles’ broadcast has entered the realm of myth.

George Orwell was a prolific writer on matters of lies and truth.  Googling Orwell’s sayings to find a relevant quote to decorate an essay or Dispatch is like choosing a breakfast cereal in a modern well stocked supermarket.

A Master of Reliable factual interpretation. And a connoisseur of graceful living.

I’ve chosen this one:

“The further a society drifts from the truth, the more it will hate those that speak it.”

The problem with this is that the Fourth Estate does not make it easy to discern the truth and hence to speak it.

The Australian media (with notable exceptions) tends to behave like a dog with a bone and latches on to one bone after another.

Recently we have had the balloon threat, the threat to our economy by the potential phasing out of the hydrocarbon industry, the Alice Springs crime wave and what have I left out?

Some of our main newspapers did a four day fear and loathing feature with chicken little headlines. A war with China over Taiwan within three years was a real possibility according to the newspaper articles.  Coincidentally soon thereafter the Australian government announced its largest commitment to military expenditure ever.  It is purchasing submersible white elephants.

Martians landing at ‘Camp Rolfe’, (formerly Yuendumu)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qoax54olIUM

Steve Van-Deller- The Sky is Falling In

A tweet from Tony Windsor encapsulates Australia’s Fourth Estate.

A man I met in a Canberra shop told me he was an acquaintance of Phil Coorey’s cousin’s vet who apparently heard from someone else with a security background that he had it on good authority that the martians could invade in the next 500 years.  Hard to believe, but thems the facts.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tvKjG8elLA4

Aretha Franklin- Dr. Feelgood,

Not all Martians are bad!

This kind of music, yet another good reason to save the planet.

Donec iterum

Frank

Prince Andrew is a shoe-in for the Coronation balcony presentation. he is after all… A man of influence.

We’re back to the saga which has no end.

No, not the silly criminal proceedings against Donald Trump nor the catastrophe of who gets to stand on the balcony at the upcoming Royal Coronation. Though we do have it on good authority that although they are not invited to the coronation itself, Prince Harry, and his royal consort princess Migraine will be invited to the Coronation after party. As described by lady Fergie of cashback; ‘the after party is heaps better than the silly coronation, cos that’s where we royal can let loose, treat the public with utter disdain, and rave on into the wee small hours in our national costume. Which is invariably brown or black with Hakenkreuz on the left arm. And there’ll be tons of Coke, Fanta, and Whizz Fizz, and we’ll party into the long weekend playing pass the parcel, flog the blackamoor and ‘who’s a bigger chinless wonder’. Andy always wins on that category, but Charles, the man who would be King, is in training to beat him to the punch’.  Oh, her royal something or other added, ‘there will be punch. I’ll be making it, Pimm’s no 5, Copious amounts of vodka paid for form our friends in Russia, and a Punch and Judy show live featuring Rishi and Boris in a tag team match in a cage’.

 These two will also have a handle on affairs of state. Though we at pcbycp can’t think of one.

What can we say?  We know out readership are convulsed with anticipation of the royal event of the Millennia. But a starker reality remains, that will not go unless it can be determined as to what fate lies before out trio and to what effect the aegis of Julian and Benny-Boy may change their predestiny.

Predestiny, Predisposition, Preamble, the Voice. Whatever happens it’ll be bigger than AUK-WARD if we have an atom of imagination left after the Voice referendum.

We return to our saga.

Stuart Robert MP, has been assured in the old fashioned way that a front row seat is his for the taking at Westminster. ‘Mates Rates’!

It’s hoped the; ‘Three wise men” will get an invite.

There was no time to duck, to crouch or even find a niche from which to protect us from the falling debris. Trained to send an RPG straight into the innards of the helicopter, Benny Boy wasted no time, and as the projectile found its mark, we just braced ourselves for the inevitable.  And the inevitable was not a long time in coming. With a crescendo of fire and light, the grenade ripped into the helicopter’s innards and what was once a formidable technological masterpiece of aeronautical engineering came crashing down in an explosion of flame and thunder. The blades smashing against the wall of the crevasse, and the fuselage, rent and ruptured where the grenade had made its mark. WE cowered knowing that when it hit solid ground we’d be barely inches from the conflagration and in spite of the thunderous crescendo of impact we could see Julian, smiling wryly. It proved a point no matter how far from the circumstance, Julian, the bad boy of Wikileaks was always relishing the moment. For when chaos reigned, he would rise above it, and turn it via the alchemy of his personality into something much worse. For all of us, it indicated his mastery of the dark arts and his ability to turn any catastrophe into a footnote devoted to himself. We admired his obdurate stoicism, his pluck and his abject level of self-indulgence. It was Trumpian, and worse.

some eminent individuals have not RSVP’d

‘Stand back’! Ces cried, and although the sentiment was entirely gratuitous, we were so absorbed in the fireball of busted up helicopter as it descended towards us. The busted-up rotors a Catherine wheel of fire, and the Plexiglass nose revealing a pilot stuck in an attitude of sheer horror. Determined to ride, whatever the consequence the flaming whirly-bird to the end.

With a terrific impact of torn steel, and duralinium it crashed directly in front of us, with such impact we all felt winded by the concussion. Picking ourselves up we noticed the conflagration had extinguished itself with the force of impact the crumpled wreck before us revealed one singular thing. Written onto the boom, now more crumpled than an AUK WARD TREAY Periscope, were the words ‘Hancock Prospecting’, and incredibly, in the busted-up piece of wreckage we could see movement. There as something inside that aircraft that still lived. And with compassion a forethought we all rushed to a man to free whoever it was that many be trapped inside. Friend or foe, compassion and humanity held us in a sacred bond of doing the right thing.

Will Princeess Migraine show up? Who cares?

‘Here’, Ces pointed, the door its half open, form inside we could hear a voice, ‘Help me, help me’! That’s it’! Benny cried, and through the adroit force of courageous impulse that had won him a VC on the field of glory, he was at the crumpled cockpit in a flash. Deploying his Swiss army knife he rattled through all the combinations before he pulled out the tin opener.  It was astounding to watch Benny at work. As a VC winner he was completely absorbed in the task at hand, and it was pure professionalism at work. Furiously he tore back at the exoskeletal carapace unto the bare metal ribs gave us a glimpse of what lay inside. A crumpled mass of humanity in which a figure, indecipherable in the mist and smoke was attempting to stand up, ‘Hold on mate’, Terry cried, and Benny leaned into the cockpit, grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled the pilot out,

The whole Coronation shebang is paid for by Saudi inc.

WE were consumed with awe.

Only Benny Boy, VC Winner could perform such a task. The Pilot was reverentially laid down.

We carefully wiped his face, covered in oil, soot and grease.  Terry proffering him another Camel, leaped forward and said the soothing words, ‘you’ll be right mate’, and helped him take his first two drags before the pilot regained full consciousness and his eyes blinked. Just as Terry said; ‘hey mate would yer like another fag’?  A horrible realisation dawned. This was worse than any of Gina’s stooges. This was stooge- ism itself. This was lick-spittle central.  This was arse-wipe city. For upon regaining consciousness and beaming up at us with all the confidence that only pure stupidity can bring we realised who the survivor was.  None other than Brenny Nelson, the supremo of the AWM. And we knew that whatever happened his henchmen Angus, Gina, and Kerrie were not far behind, ‘

Fergie is anticipated to make a splash.

And just as we made this tragic realisation, the tom toms, dormant this past half hour, renewed their insidious beat. We were still on the run, from savages determined via Sophies folie de grandeur to have us eaten or by Brenny and his cohorts to be stuffed, set and displayed as mere chattel to the God-head of ANZACKERY.

Will this be the end? Or just another prelude to the end of the beginning? Or the bit after the start in our in the next compelling episode? ‘If you think too much you’re fucked’, or ‘three sheets to the windvane, and it’s blowing from every angle’.

Dear readership,

The Glorious’s end wasn’t all that Glorious!

Glad, we use the term ‘readership”! Cos the stuff coming out of ‘Camp Rolfe’, (formerly ‘Yuendumu’) is like a great Ship of State. 

It’s lofty, glorious, and like the mighty battleship converted to an aircraft carrier, we hope that this glory does not go the way of HMS Glorious, cruelly sunk ‘by gunfire’ by The ‘Scharnhorst’ and the ‘Gneisenau’ off the coast of Norway.  If you’ve forgotten about that fateful day in 1940 you can see it recorded on Youtube.

An aircraft carrier sunk by battleships?  You may ask; ‘How could that be’? Well, it’s as silly as waiting thirty years for a submarine. That’s what the AWK-WARD treaty is all about. And we’re told that by going nuclear we’ll be SAFE! As safe as we were when the mighty 15 inch guns installed at Singapore, protected us from invasion from the Japanese. 

But don’t let us caution you about subs, here’s another one from Frank and it comes with a sub-text. 

But it sank well!

 

Amici,

I’ve received quite a bit of feedback resulting from the Dispatches surge. The Dispatchee who suggested I should stop whingeing was cause for introspection and it was most timely that the Warlpiri Encyclopaedic Dictionary launch came along to cheer me up.  I was able to share and spread some joy.  I promise to be on the lookout for more positive stories.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jHPOzQzk9Qo&t=5s

The Scharnhorst and the Gneisenau weren’t bad ships either. Till they SANK!

After I published My Yuendumu Story many readers told me they’d like to read more about my parents and my pre-Yuendumu existence.  I’m working on that.

From the draft of My Yuendumu Story continued (Ngaju-nyangu Yurntumu-kurlu jaru-kari):

My father spent much of his life with a straight face, a glint in his eyes, and his tongue firmly in his cheek.  Much of what is in this book was written with my inherited sardonicism and appreciation of irony.  For me, Yuendumu is a great place to be, because so much weird and farcical stuff happens here, most of it instigated by intellectual pygmies from the outside world.

The first FOUR AUK-WARD Treaty subs for AWSTRALIA, from r to l; HMAS, ‘Feeble, Fumble, Feckless and Inappropriate touching’

I try to stay at the irony end of the ironic/cynical continuum.  I have also been asked the reason for the exponential growth in the frequency of Dispatches.  It isn’t that I’m trying to keep up with interest hikes.  In the past the Dispatches have been most irregular and opportunistic.  Something crazy happens and a Dispatch pops into my head.  The reason for the current explosion, is that there has been a crescendo in bizarre and insane happenings in the world and Yuendumu.

Last century I obtained an Osborne computer. It had 64KB of RAM and two floppy disks of 360KB each. I thought it was Christmas. I am glad though that I didn’t order it for delivery in 2023 at a mere $1bn. It is now completely obsolete. Why does this make me think of nuclear powered submarines?

The Mighty Guns at SINGAPORE!

In Yuendumu it will be three years of hand-wringing after a young man had three bullets pumped into his chest before a report is presented which will have recommendations on how to prevent such from happening again. We already have been given an answer.  I may have already told you.  They have created the Community Resilience and Engagement Command with its own acronym CREC.  Can’t wait to see it in action.

A couple of days ago I ran into a friend in Alice Springs who’d worked in Yuendumu as a mechanic.  I told him I’d just launched a Dispatch into cyberspace on the topical topic of submarines.  I told him I’d used the Yellow Submarine song.  Almost like that song had been written for my future use. My friend immediately proclaimed that the song was only waiting for this moment to arise.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PWy4JSFFuUI

Ciao,

Francesco

And one more (from my childhood):

Mighty Air Protection over Singapore. Which failed.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NLt787xbMNk

—

Each Porter Davis Home comes with a personal guarantee from HIH, Emron, and Pyramid Building Society.

Dear reader,

as a crisis looms in the domestic housing market, builder’s go broke and the Saints ride gloriously over the top of the Dons in last week’s footy, (brought to you by Sports bet, 24/7, BET 365 and the makers of gaming machines to crown and accredited welfare agencies) comes the exciting news that ‘Benny Boy’ Roberts Smith has emerged from the jungle just in the nick of time. Is his appearance an omen? That the sacred winner of the VC may yet save our trio from the tom toms, and a an la carte appointment with Sophie, now queen of a tribe of less than noble savages?

Or is it just another twist, more twister than whoever knew, said, poked, prodded and plausibly became penetrated by Donald Trump in his rise to power as POTUS?

Only available through Sportsbet 24/7

Hang onto your seats, suppress the urge to check the odds-on which way this narrative will go, and take heart in the fact that as Rome burns, shares in fireworks may hit the roof. Global warming?

Who gives a fire- cracker as in the end no one really cares, and Rupert has just dissed his latest girlfriend. If its trouble for Rupert, you can rest assured more trouble is coming.  A tsunami of trouble is coming our way, and whichever way you look at it, it’s not going to be nice.

‘Nice’? Yes, indeed nice people don’t do politics.

That’s why Sophie is on the bench of the Fair Work Commission, as she was too nice for politics, and Benny boy Roberts Smith is out there protecting ‘Australian values‘. A fair go, and the right to roll a WOP off a hill.

Will Zachary Rolfe join forces with Benny now he’s officially not a member of the NT Police? Or is there a career for him on politics?  The Liberals both federally and across the Federation need LEADERSHIP! And Zach has all the credentials.  As a matter of fact, he’s so credentialled even the army won’t have him, but he’d be a shoe-in for ASIO where his no-nonsense approach would deal with would-be aggressors who have a predilection for Streamed fried rice, no 14, No 12, and No 3 on the menu. This and other telling indicators will not be answered in this instalment but, left hanging, hanging in the balance, you, dear reader must decide.

POST POTUS Syndrome

In this episode,

Hanging by a FRED, or Dangling in the DARK.

‘Jeez, Benny what the eff are youse doin here in the remote mountains of New Guinea? And are you alone?

Just then, a pale and pasty figure, dressed in black, wearing a Marxist beret as worn by Che Guevara walked from under the corner of the shadow, coughed, stumbled, and raised eyes that hadn’t seen sunlight in years and said, ‘I also seek VENGEANCE’!

Vengeance? Ces remarked upon who?

Julian WHO?

Upon she who must be obeyed, Julian put a withered finger in the air, Where I hear the tom tons, I know she to be, and…

Just then, Benny boy beckoned them SILENCE! And they all stood stock still and listened. To alleviate the tension Terry, miraculously proffered from his rucksack another packet of Camels and the trio and their two ne’r do well companions lit up. Pushing bluish smoke rings and wispish tendrils into the dim light of evening as seen through the iris of the pit they had fallen into, now several hundred meters above them. And sure enough the tom toms had stilled,

Benny Boy tensed, and fingered the bandolier of his AK47, and wiped the surface of the string of grenades tied in a belt around his waist.  His RPG strapped to his back, and several Claymores, Anti-tank mines and the aged .303 kept as a keepsake from the GLORIOUS SONS And DAUGHTERS of ANZAC light and sound display to be opened in the newly commissioned 2.5 billion, AWKWARD TREATY ANNEXE at the AWM.

STORM CLOUDS for the RULES BASED GLOBAL ORDER!

‘Shhhh’, he commanded, and we all stood stock still.  Even Julian, who was more sickly than usual let out a slight catarrhal wheeze and strained in the night air. And surely enough, the steady beat of a rotor.

Julian’s long term in captivity. Serving the course of JUSTICE!

Ces looked upwards, ‘it’s a helicopter, if we can get out of this we’re saved’?

‘Saved’?  Benny Boy laughed sarcastically, ‘SAVED FROM WHAT’?

‘By Sophies murderous horde, and the threat of being eaten alive. Or worse’?

‘What makes you think that’s a friendly helicopter’?

Benny boy was in his element, you had to hand it to him as a celebrated and certified VC winner. He was on top of his game. He beckoned us to lie down, which we did, and raising his grenade launcher skyward he waited till the helicopter drew over the lip of the crevasse, and sure enough, it did. A searchlight beamed down upon them, and without waiting to see if it were friend or foe, Benny Boy pulled the trigger and with a resounding whoosh, the projectile sped on its deadly course.

Will the chopper get the chop?

Will destiny rain down upon them?

Who’s Destiny?

Could it get any stormier?

Who is Stormy Daniels anyway?

THE Liberals NEED men of CONVICTION to LEAD!

Find out in our next explosive episode; ‘When The chopper gets chopped’, or ‘Five chops and several sausages makes for a bush picnic’!

Dear reader, 

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

We can only hope that the Poms, (the British) and the Septics, (the Yanks) may help the Ukrainians out as well as they did for us at Singapore.

In this-un, Frank gives us the full bottle on Submarines. And poses the question, will our submarines be yellow? 

We’d like to offer Frank some cogent advice on this issue, as he would be aware of the extensive use of camouflage used in both the First and Second World War. He also cites the excellent work of the Royal Dutch navy during the Spanish Civil War delivering arms to the highest bidder. We like to think that for individuals of Frank’s father’s era, this was the first ‘Ukraine inspired’ act of goodwill between those bits of the west hell bent on defeating the scourge of totalitarianism at the right price. Just as we cleaned the Transvaal of evil racist Boers during the Boer War so as to put in a stable and well guided administration blessed by Great Britain, so we hope that those poor Ukrainians may get their own submarine deal one day. Then they too may have a new respect for good governance and the principle of a constitutional monarchy and all the benefits that come with belonging to the league of FREE NATIONS who understand the Boons of a RULES BASED GLOBAL ORDER!  

We own the rule- book, and won’t have any wop foreigner telling us that it’s not to their liking. 

So in this fair- minded context, take Frank’s commentary with a grain of salt. We hear the quality of the salt to be found at Bakhmut is rather good. And goes terribly nicely with a pinch of caviar and gold- leaf sauteed sirloin. That’s what Mr Prigozhin told us and he should know as he served to George Bush Junior last time he spoke of the ‘New World Order’. 

The Spanish Marxists lost to the Spanish fascists. Who had the best salute then?

Frank writes;

Amigos,

From the draft of My Yuendumu Story continued (Ngaju-nyangu Yurntumu-kurlu jaru-kari):

Coercive Reconciliation is an oxymoron.  Stronger Futures is a euphemism.  Defense Weapons is an oxymoron and so is ‘Civil War’ There is nothing civil about it.

Dad elaborated on Jan Lucas’ stint on submarines.  Jan Lucas had told him that during the Spanish Civil War, their Dutch submarine had plied the Iberian coast selling weapons to the highest bidder. ¡Olé!

‘The Dutch Walloping the Poms’, Day One First Test.

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery that mediocrity can pay to greatness. – Oscar Wilde

It was the era when the largest transfer of wealth and power in history took place.  When the wealth of the Soviet Union was transferred to a select group of oligarchs, not least Vladimir Putin. When hundreds of schools in Victoria were converted into prime real estate. That was Jeff Kennett, ably assisted by an NT Education Dept. official who crossed over to Victoria after he finished applying a wrecking ball to NT education (Gary Springer?).

Camoflague pattern designed to inflict serious pain on U boat Commanders suffering hangovers.

In the Australian Parliament during a debate on whether Telecom should be privatised a luminary parliamentarian proclaimed “Even Albania has privatized its telecommunications” Albania that beacon of democracy and freedom. The only European country to wave Mao Ze Tung’s little red book about as a symbol of enlightenment.

So, what do we have in the U.K.? Their Prime Minister adopting Australia’s three word slogan ‘Stop the Boats’ Yes, we Australians have something to be proud of.

Several days later there stood Rishi Sunak smiling like a Cheshire cat. The UK just sold billions of dollars’ worth of submarines to its former colony down under.

Never let it be forgot, that NORMAN WISDOM was hugely popular in ALBANIA!!

In Australia opinion is divided. There are those who think it is a terrible waste of money, and those who think it is an imperative to make us safe.

There are those who think that the increased militarisation of Australia is a not to be missed opportunity for the Northern Territory and there are others who aren’t so sure.

Alice Springs is divided, those who think the spy base is a welcome component of the local economy, and those who think Pine Gap makes us a nuclear target.

Just read Kieran Finnane’s ‘Peace Crimes’ to get an insight into how authorities deal with dissent.

Australia missed an opportunity “If you don’t stop torturing that poor bastard Assange and let him return to Australia, we won’t buy your submarines”

Yellow Submarine- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=krIus0i9xn8

Adios,

Frank

We at pcbycp have been commissioned, without the requirement for a tender as we are deemed “an Essential Service’ by Stuart Robert MP, ( former minister for ‘mates rates’ and ‘kick- backs without due process’) to assist the RAN on a recruitment drive for their new Submarine fleet. Because the subs won’t be ready for some forty years we’re advertising in kindergartens and childcare centres. And anticipate a great SURGE in interest towards SUBMARINERS as a viable career profession other than politics, real estate or used car sales.

Dear reader,

with all this background noise about ‘Sub-contracts’ and ‘the Voice’ we overlooked the serious issues that face this nation as it equips itself for the drums of war. Last time we looked the drums had all been deflated and the state of our barbed write canoe clearly in need of a significant upgrade. Good thing that the new sub bases in Broken Hill and Albury will be on hand to defend us, and after the Albury to Broken Hill intra continental canal system is built we’ll be able to protect anything south of the Dubbo Line. Not a near canal system, a middle distance canal system, but a fully up to date, modernised and automated far- canal system. Apologies for anyone who walked in unwittingly on that obvious and over- worn joke. With Australia at the ready. Barbed wire canoe, re-painted and equipped with nuclear propulsion any would be oppressor must surely be seriously worried.

‘Uncle Stewie’, Stuart Robert MP is leading the recruitment drive. As a consequence we have re- equipped our kitchen at pcbycp with a new suite of coffee machines, roulette wheels and VIP Gaming lounges. Courtesy of his very open tender process. A boon for small business and MATES!

Seriously worried about our capabilities in the year 2058, cos that’s when we’ll be primed and seriously armed to repel an invader. Provided of course the invader abides by the principle of an INTERNATIONAL RULES BASED ORDER and invades when we politely suggest we’re ready for it. Anything prior to that would not be cricket.

But what of our trio? Last thing we heard they were perilously close to being a la carte somewhere in the formidable and steaming jungles of West Papua, formerly Dutch New Guinea, formerly West Irian, formerly, the bits of New Guinea given to Indonesia so that the mineral resources could be exploited without the hindrance of an intervention or arguably a ‘voice’. Where mining interests can pursue wealth and the boon of the trickle-down effect unhindered by noisy minorities who wish for a larger dollop of the gravy..

In spite of all these boons our trio are in a dark and forbidding place.

Possibly worse than housing or rental affordability in the great southern land, though we’ve been told the top 1% are doing mighty fine. So there’s nothing to worry about really.

We return to our saga.

Our Subs will be christened by HRH Princess Fergie as a testament to sub- standards and the prevailing taste for forelock- tugging amongst Australian defense personnel.

No sooner than ‘our Sophie’ new leader of this tribe of ruthless savages had smashed their way into the Rotodyne, they realised in their primitive fury that their prey had flown the nest, bolted, exited, decamped, and all they had was an empty Rotodyne and the ‘Sophie look alike’ in the pot. With a look of fearsome anguish and justifiable frustration Sophie let out a blood curdling shriek. And just to make her point, because someone had to pay for this, she unsheathed her huge native machete like knife, and skewered the native next to her. Raising her other arm and wiping the blade on her cheeks she cried something incomprehensible in native gibberish and then with another hideous gesture across her throat, she pointed in the general direction of her quarry and jumped aside as the natives vengeful and enraged leapt in hot pursuit. The drums began an ear splitting crescendo, and just for dramatic effect courtesy of Cecil b de Mille, another native standing idly by was marked for sacrifice and put in the pot. Feast or no feast they would not leave on empty stomachs. In the fire, the fury and the fume, the natives, hideous silhouettes danced gigantic against the mountains and from the distant mountain ranges, the answering call of native fury. More drumming and the roar of conch shells. Because we know on reliable authority without the boon of the NBN, primitive folk must use conch shells.

Integrity has three faces…

‘Which way’? Quent asked as he picked off another leach. This one was bigger than the last and clearly needed careful handling. ‘I dunno’, Ces replied wearily. ‘We aint got a compass, its too bloody cloudy to navigate by starlight, it aint a full moon, and by the sound of those drums the natives, are restless’.

‘Well I spose we’ve got nothing for it but to push on. Is this a track’? Terry asked, worried that he was down to his last carton of Camel, a serious situation akin to a Submarine Construction treaty. ‘Well, judging by the sound of those drums if we steer away from the louder ones at the very least we may gain some time’. And judging by the sound over there, a singular Tom Tom took up its percussive syncopated beat. ‘They’re pretty close right about now’.

Without choice, pursued and oppressed they stumbled on. The flight seemed hopeless!

This poster is being ‘focus grouped” in Germany. It reads, ‘join the subs and you’ll never be sub-human’!

And yet on countless occasions when all seemed lost they managed to pull through. But in the damp night, without the aid of moonlight to guide them they stumbled on into a valley of sorts. Onwards they stumbled. And louder the crescendo of tom toms, bongo’s and larger booming tympany and bass drums, till the jungle was rent with the percussive beating of ‘Drums of War’.

‘Tom Toms to the right of them,

Tom Toms to the left of them,

Tom Toms in front of them,

Volleyed and thundered,

Stormed at with shite pell-mell,

Boldly they stumbled, and well,

Into the jaws of death,

Into the mouth of hell,

The harried three fell.

Translation: ‘Cash will flow to cronies and MATES in Government Submarine Defence Contracts’.

Into an abyss. And in what seemed like aeons as they thrashed and flailed under gravity’s eternal impulse they landed, seemingly unscathed. For they had fallen through a vine covered crevasse of sorts and landed incredibly on a soft bed of moss and lichen metres thick. As they picked themselves up they noticed the sound of tom toms had receded. Releasing their deliverance, they rubbed their eyes and in the faint glow of morning rejoiced in still being alive. Terry passed around his last crumpled pack of Camels and they lit up joyously. Took a few drags and patted themselves down. Safe at last.

Zac Rolfe will be leading the recruitment promotion with the catchy phrase’ Sub- Standard is good enough for me’!

At that precise moment a huge and forbidding shadow emerged from the surrounding rock wall. A countenance strangely familiar yet menacing. And before they could adjust themselves a raucous laugh and a hearty cough; ‘Welcome to HELL fellas’!

And out stepped Benny-Boy Roberts Smith.

Is Benny there to greet them, or is he there to earn another VC? Find out in the next inglorious episode; ‘Tick Tick goes the Tom Tom’, or ‘Two V.C’s in the hand is worth more than Kerry Stokes is prepared to pay in a push’.

Dear reader, 

another one from Frank. 

We are worried about this dispatch as we think it might be on the subversive side.

If you read this, you may acquire the conviction that Australian policies in regard to indigenous language is skewed and assimilationist. We know this to be a Furphy as we don’t like foreigners telling us that we’re wrong.

It’s a central pillar of the AUK WARD Pact and it keeps would be aggressors in bed, a trembling with fear. 

And besides how would Brazilians know that much about language, most of them can’t even speak English. 

This salute aint been banned yet. Except by the Olympic Movement which eschews political interference, corruption, corporate malfeasance etc, etc.

I arks ya. 

Anyway, here it is from Frank

Bom Dia meus amigos,

 As I was responding to emails, my son and his friend Japanangka were strumming their guitars on the back patio.  I’m sure you’ve all experienced that exquisite feeling you get when you hear an evocative snippet of music.  An echo from the past.  I went outside to ask what it was.  It was Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Free Bird…   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D0W1v0kOELA

Brazilian kiddie at pains to find any equivalent to NAPLAN

Reminds me of when Yuendumu came close to having its own Lynyrd Skynyrd episode.  A charter plane lost power on takeoff because the tanks had been topped up with the wrong fuel and had to make an emergency landing on the Tanami road. On board was the Lajamanu Teenage Band.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3kpc1tlZlGg

 One of the interstate guests at the Warlpiri Encyclopaedic Dictionary book launch was a linguist who works for AIATSIS.  The Aboriginal Studies Press, an AIATSIS branch, published the dictionary.  Echoes from the past.  In 2014 this linguist led a group of Brazilian linguists on a tour of Australian bilingual schools.  When shown Yuendumu school’s Bilingual Resources Development Unit (the BRDU aka The Printery) they remarked that whereas we were far better resourced than Brazilian bilingual schools, Australia was far behind when it came to positive supportive bilingual education policies.

We at pcbycp are a little worried about this salute

 I received an email from Brazil, and I quote from it:

    “We’re back in Brazil after our long and eye-opening trip around the land of oz……we saw very little activism during our time there. What we did see, not only in Yuendumu, but also in the Torres Strait Islands, for instance was a lot of outraging government attempts to sabotage all language maintenance efforts and the possibility of living life in a different way. No right to be different in oz, it seems to me.”

Regarding the dearth of activism, I’ve seen it in inaction. The power imbalance at cross-cultural interactions makes effective activism almost impossible. Resulting in what has been described as ‘polite inattention’.

Languages are constantly evolving.  English now has a new verb.

Outrage- noun

Outrageous- adjective

Outraging- verb

The bane of Aboriginal Australia are those control freaks who are in charge. They are forever outraging!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vj5Uu6GkTm0&t=2s

Google engineer enthuses about the potential of A1 robots to salute with both arms simultaneously.

Obrigado

Frank

The New AUK-WARD Treaty Sub bases will be safe from flooding or tidal surges. Artists impression of planned Sub base for BROKEN HILL. Similar to that designed for ALBURY and ALICE SPRINGS, (a designated Dry Area)

Dear reader,

we return to our saga.

With no end in sight of sub-jokes we must just push on and hope that the sub-text is not sub-merged by sub-liminal messaging and Sub-versive sub- paragraphs.

As you may remember from our last thrilling instalment, no sooner had Sophie been released than she managed by dint of her pure survival instinct to displace the priestess and become the top dog (so to speak) of this primitive tribe of Savage BEASTS! 

The very same beasts who intended to have our trio, Ces, Quent and Terry for dinner.

A short reprieve ensued, just like the pause following the AUK-WARD Subs Treaty announcement, before the old Sophie, the indefatigable, indomitable and impetuous Sophie reasserted herself and in no time at all directed her anger to our trio. Will the new Sophie be more fair-minded Sophie than her look- alike Native Priestess?  At this stage it seems unlikely. For hell have no fury than an unleashed Sophie.  

Editor recommends Prince Harry’s noble Auto-Biography. Ghost written for easier digestion.

We return to our account and suggest for the frail, the weak minded and those who are nervous about the consumption of body parts, you skip this instalment and read a copy of Prince Harry’s excellent (and recently authenticated by HRH Prince Andrew), memoir, ‘Waaaah’.

‘I dunno, this looks like trouble’.

Neo Nazis are all aboard on the AUK-WARD TREATY SUBS!

With the fire burning brightly, the silhouette of the cauldron dark and imposing.  We watched in fearful anticipation as we witnessed the steam rising off the top of the cauldron and a huge spoon being agitated by an enormous native with a self-styled chefs cap.  The feet of the former priestess stuck unobtrusively out the top, and we knew that the new Priestess, our very own Sophie would waste no time. Time wasting was alien to Sophie. Sophie lived of the exercise of raw and undiluted power, and these natives would be her first step, her first cohort which would be used to establish herself as a supreme being and provide another challenge to the World Order. But we had no idea, as an exalted Fair Work Commissioner, she would be as a good as her word and get down to the business of POWER in seconds flat.

RAN Trialing New AUK-WARD PACT Submarine Recruiting poster.

‘I don’t like the look of this’, said Ces. ‘And’, (Ces paused as he mulled over any means of escape) ‘they’re getting closer.  Nor I’, Terry spluttered as he handed them all another Camel and they donkey rooted them into furious combustion. Ces, who had been asked to ‘Do Something’, mulled quietly.  The menacing throng got closer. With our Sophie at the forefront making the most fearsome and guttural cries, with menacing and suggestive use of the knife. She gave a gigantic leap, extraordinary for such a dollop like person.

(we the editors would like to apologise for this inadvertent body shaming phrase, but in order to accurately convey the stature and physiognomy of our principal characters feel it is necessary to maintain the gravitas and verisimilitude of real events taking place to the north of Australia’s undefended and unprotected shores)

The Duke of Windsor discovered that the Fascist Salute was ‘POPULARITY GOLD’!

Sophie and her vicious, unhinged, uncivilised, horde gained the ground between the cauldron and the Rotodyne. Until the crowd gathered as in a ring, closer and closer until we could once again, see the naked fury of cannibals.  Of individuals ‘ barely-human’ unrestrained by any civilised notion of grace nor compassion. The fearsome savagery of faces consumed by bloodlust and anger splayed in front of us through the opalescent and somewhat begrimed Perspex windscreen.

Childrens book giving instruction on the ‘Correct and Incorrect use of Salute’

‘Do something Ces… Fer Chrissakes Do something’!.

The ‘Correct” salute.

Minutes later, the crowd could no longer be stemmed. As in an anti-vax lockdown protest or more recently, a far right assemblage of looneys at an LGBT I Trans X Mutant, sub mutant, extra-terrestrial alien, Cyborg, Non-Cyborg AI Identity pronoun discussion paper meeting, could the braying for blood, for ‘retribution’, for ‘relevance’, for ‘Copy’, be stemmed no longer. The Perspex shattered in a convulsive explosion as several assegais and knockberries pulverised the thin aluminium exoskeleton of the hapless Rotodyne.  In a great tidal surge of pure evil, led by Sophie, Now Evil and vengeful priestess as well as an exalted Fair Work Commissioner they gained access through the pulverised wreckage and descended upon the fuselage with unrestrained fury! Their screams maddeningly shrill and their faces!  Such countenances as Brueghel or Hieronymus Bosch might contrive were beyond ghastly, hideous, and contorted with animal fury and unhinged blood lust. This was the end. The end of everything.  Worse than ‘Ukraine’, worse than ‘the Uighurs’, worse than ‘The Intervention’, because in their fury they’; ‘The Savages’ had eschewed a ‘rules-based world order’ to do terrible things.

HRH Princess Elizabeth demonstrates her Germanic ancestry.

But as they filled the fuselage, tearing, ripping, shrieking and smashing they realised, that their prey had flown. The Rotodyne was empty. Somehow by some artifice of desperation, the trio had escaped the trap. And somewhere beyond the shimmering cauldron and the fiery flames, they were stumbling, blundering, crawling and running to ensure that by morning sufficient distance lay between them and the savage host, which just might give them a chance.

Who’s chance?  Buckleys? Or the chance of betting agencies voluntarily endorsing a code of conduct?  Whatever the chance, we know only one thing. ‘That Hope springs eternal for those who are not entirely hopeless’, and as famously said by a very famous individual of whom we’ve forgotten. ‘At the end of the day, there’s always tomorrow’.

Country folk, (in Sth Australia) often have ‘ Quaint’ notions on ‘how things should be done’.

VIC POLICE. NO FASCISM HERE!!

and there’s always a silver lining….if you’re in the banking industry.