In desperate search of some light relief we return once again to our saga. As Ukraine is imperilled by the Russian Steamroller, something equally as indefatigable is underfoot right here in Central Australia. The so called ‘dead-heart’.  Though we are confused as to why Zac Rolfe’s penetrating foray into criminal justice wasn’t deemed as murder, we are reassured he gave Walker three plugs just to be sure. Unlike Afghanistan which became a disorganised free- for all rabble, he was able to finish the job as trained.

We’ve been drawn to admire Sophie as our steadfast Fair Work Commissioner and her  determination to use our heroes, as mere prawns in her power game. Is there no end to her megalomania? Is it time the UN Human Rights Commission called her for war crimes?  Can we possibly spend taxpayers money to send her to Moscow, so she can find a Fair Work Commission type settlement to the fracas? Or is it just our Yuendumu moment?  Where gun- toting cops trained to KILL in Afghanistan are just doing their job. 

How many cliffs are there to roll corpses down in Yuendumu? Who the fuck knows where Yuendumu is anyway? Should we task ‘The Australian’ to help us? They know how to find trouble-makers, and taint an entire community with self righteous SHAME. 

Find out in this next galvatronic episode as our trio, Benny-Boy Roberts Smith, Australia’s greatest ever VC legend, Ces and Quent and their new sidekick Terry battle it out in the battle of the wits, or in Australia’s case in deference to our public policy these past thirty years, battle it out with half- wits. In a Lilliputian kingdom anything can happen, Grab a hose, Grab a mop, a hose, a colostomy bag, a ukulele? And dial 000… and know that no one will hear you!!

We return to our saga…

‘She’s evil’! He cried as we slid down the line. ‘Yep mate, she’s one of a kind’. 

We couldn’t see the ground below us, just the eerie glow of the conflagration above us and the insults, “ Potato head, Fatty!’ from above as Sophie and Dutto fought over the destiny of whatever was left post neo-liberalism of western civilisation.

I said to Ces, ‘do you think this time we’ll get out of it? 

I dunno, Terry here might find a way out, but if Sophie follows us and realise we’ve scarpered we’ll be on her hit-list faster than you can say Kumanjayi Walker’!’

And besides, there’s no guarantee that once we get down we’ll find anything anyway. What’s in the buildings Terry’?  Terry, the last to escape was above us, we could see him in his sky blue overalls sliding down the cable above us, and at the very top the form, large and foreboding of Benny-Boy making the descent. 

‘Hey Terry what’s in these buildings? 

I dunno, haven’t been near em for sixty years. All kinds of stuff, stuff that’s good’, and then less reassuringly, ‘stuff that aint so good’. 

‘Oh…. I thought as much, all this evil, all this corruption, preferment, rent-seeking, who could believe Australia would go this way. In the end it aint all that different’! from Russia….

You’re right Ces, and Terry here has unwittingly been at the centre of it’. 

‘Yup’! We heard Terry above us; ‘and I wonder in the end, has it been worth it’? 

Ces and I both thought about his sixty years of steadfast loyalty for nothing, it was ironic, but also banal. ’There’s a banality in all this, is that what they call  it’? 

‘Yes, spose so’ came from Terry. As I chewed on a ration biscuit as we slid down.  It was the first morsel we’d had in two days. I’d found it under the seat of the tramcar, a box of rations so old it didn’t even have a use- by date. Just before we jumped I grabbed a handful and shared them round.  I spat as my teeth bit into  something rough textured and acrid. ‘Yuk’, and spat out what turned out to be a weevil.  ‘There’s weevils in this’! I cried, 

‘Yeah mate’! Terry quipped, ‘its the banality of weevils’. 

We all laughed, clearly in a tight squeeze, Terry had a sense of humour. 

Into the inky blackness we slid, above us the firefight between Sophie and Dutto, to the death, with the plaintive cry;  ‘Now Benny’!  Now Benny!  and then after a prolonged silence,’ Benny’!  Where the fuck are ya”? 

‘Just like Geoffrey and Ghislaine’! Ces cried above the din. ‘These weevils! It’s hard to pick out the big-uns from the little-uns!  I spose thats what happens to a tin of biscuits left on the console of a tramcar some sixty plus years’.  Quent cried out, ‘in this fix it’s impossible to differentiate between the big-uns and the little-uns’! Your right and it gives us no choice’! as I munched away. “Yeah’! Terry chirruped. ‘What choice do you have’? 

‘Too right’! Ces concurred; ‘it’s the lesser of two weevils. ”. We all laughed again.

We could still see the conflagration above us, and then just before we hit the ground, there was a massive roar, the cavern was lit from end to end.  The special response vehicle was consumed in vivid flame. The incandescence was blinding, and above it all we could hear the shrill cry, “Fuck you Dutto”! And then just as we hit ground, the suspended tram tracks, the girders, the special response vehicle and the combatants, wherever they were, came crashing down. “Quick”!

‘Over here”! And in one leap, Ben who appeared from out of the blue motioned us to a niche in a wall.  We crowded into it, and with seconds to spare we were showered with bits of debris, and fragments burning and smouldering like so many sparks from  a celestial bonfire. And then all was silent. 

Will this be their. Silent night? 

Will Santa ever make it to Maralinga? 

Find out in the next combative episode, ‘Dutto’s Dalliance with destiny” or ‘Sophies, Wheel of Fortune wont go fully round.”