Malcolm ushered in a new era of Queenly sackings!
Dear reader, Once again we are in the proverbial.,
Hawkie loved most of all……HIMSELF!!
Our heroes and Benny-boy Roberts Smith find themselves still up to their armpits in merde. Is that ‘merde’ you say? Yes reader, a direct quote from another great global leader Emanuele Macron who’s got this thing going with Vladimir. One phone call and Vladimir might promise to be nice, cos at the end of the day whether its a submarine contract or a kleptocrats yacht, its nicer when its said in French. Pity Scomo cant understand French, it might make him a lot more electable, or at the very least he could choose to politely ignore the unkind things that are said about him in Parliament by members of his own party. But before we give SCOMO all the credit for being the genius in suggesting first home buyers dip into their super as the first plank of the Coalitions election policy there’s another bitter struggle for the hearts and minds beneath the desert wastes of Maralinga
Keating had a penchant for flash suits and ws the last PM to employ wit and vision as a political device.
No matter how hard they try, they; Benny Boy, Ces, Quent and Terry cannot rid themselves of the taint of real – politik. ‘What is real politik you may ask’? That’s the sort of politik where you scratch my arse and I’ll scratch yours. Whats that in plain English? Well thats simple; ‘you wipe my arse and I’ll wipe yours’. That according to our famous psephologist Ted. E.Whitten is what its all about. In politics its all about the law of the jungle. And in the jungle, the only thing that can be heard above the screech of the hyaenas is the dull, percussive, mordant sound of the ‘Drums of War’!
Is this a khaki election? Or just one where colour is so leached of empathy that its all a monochromatic sludge of over- worn slogans and knee jerk cliches? Surely we deserve more than this?
Or do we?
John Howard showed a remarkable taste in friends
What effort have we put into the political process? For the baby boomers we’ve had it pretty good. Our investments since mummy and daddy have karked it have grown and now we ride the tidal wave of our era. Free education, universal health care, well paid jobs, not having to fight in other peoples wars, the present is a panegyric to our time. We are the exalted, the younger generation can fend for themselves cos in our height, we are beyond reproach. Its someone else’s problem. All this stuff about inflation is for the rental class. They can go and find an investment property and if they cant afford one they can hold onto a rung. A rung on the ‘ladder of opportunity’. Some of them are lower on the ladder of opportunity, and if they cant hold on they are losers, not winners . We only exalt the winners, whatever side you bat on!
But what of our heroes? We must believe in heroes, for without heroes of some kind the alchemy of politics doesn’t work.
Kev was way too clever and liked to tell us so….
Who are our heroes? Are they two late middle-aged men fighting it out for the blancmange of middle Australia? Or something more profound? An Australia. Of destiny and vision? An Australia of imagination and the gift of diversity? Or something a little less confronting? Win or lose our heroes may be the best chance we have of clutching defeat from the jaws of victory and achieving from this ideological wasteland our Gallipoli Moment!
Whatever happens you know that its written in the sand.
And the sands are always moving so whatever is written is re- written. And written again. As a famous Bedouin tribesman once said. ‘It is written though I can’t remember what was written the last time it was written as the sand is always moving’! So we too must move in sync to the sand, As the hourglass expires, so we must prepare ourselves for the final hour, the last grain, the last tic of the toc and now that this is our time. And time flies. Tempus fugit, or as Barnaby would
say; ‘Roll out the barrel, if its got pork in it it’ll float, fly, or go sky high. And land fair square! Somewhere in a Coalition electorate’.
Julia was a woman and for that she was PUNISHED!
Have we got time for the central narrative, of our heroes mired in the morass of intrigue, back- stabbing, hypocrisy, cover ups and chicanery? Another day in parliament? No! The grim struggle for dignity and humanity against minds so corrupted by power and privelege they’ll stop at nothing. Can Dutto and Sophie be stopped? Or is it too late? So late that we’ve run out of room and only have this smallest of slots, as this is an election edition to provide just the scarcest of space to an utterance from our heroes.
And Ces said; ‘Crumbs! Were in a right pickle now, and theres no easy way out’ .
Too true. There was no easy way out. We could just make out the silhouette of Benny-Boy ahead and all we could do was shuffle along in the dark and hope for the best. It was comforting to know that Terry had another carton of Camels in his backpack and as he tossed us another round we lit up and as in a torch- light parade, we puffed along knowing that things could be worse.
‘Ya know’’ Terry said, ‘it aint all bad, I mean’, there was a pause as Terry searched for the right sentiment. ‘I mean we could be a Russian Conscript in the Donbas, doing Vladimir’s bidding, or just a misunderstood copper from Yuendumu with a Glock that’s lable to go off who’s just trying to do his job. Or a policeman who gets by luck and stupidity to be the Defence Minister. Yep, and here we are us band of brothers, and Benny boy being led to the surface it can only get better from hereon’…
Tony was a strong man who also demonstrated a profound facility for character judgement.
But no sooner had Terry cheered us with the prospect of being free than we heard a dull thud form deep below, we knew in an instant that either Dutto or Sophie had found a way of settling their argument. Or one way or the other, they were going to find where we’d got to and they’d be hot on our tails.
Thats all we can give as our air time is paid for by the UAP, an they like to get value for money.
So folks take if from Clive; ‘For the best election you wanna buy, Clive is not far away,
he’s not in a Melb-ayne pity, butta Brisbane City…
Will Clive make an appearance to save our heroes? Find out in the next Capricornian episode ‘Coconuts and Pineapples don’t salad mix’, or, ‘Isn’t it TIME to reinstate the Brisbane LINE’!
Malcolm trusted his closest associates, and they returned the favour…
We acknowledge the UAP and Franco Cozzo Furniture in generously sponsoring todays editorial comment.