With an election coming on, anything can happen. 

The issues facing our heroes seem irrelevant. They pale into insignificance against the major issues suffered by average (non trust fund beneficiaries) Australian, working families and the vexed question of franking credits. 

It’s not because our heroes travails are irrelevant, but with an election their fate is inextricably tied up with the fate of the nation. The fate that shall determine whether one bland white, average middle aged individual will succeed over another white middle aged bland individual. This is the kaleidoscope of Australian politics. No matter how changed, how cosmopolitan the population becomes you can rest assured that a bland middle aged bloke will win in the end. Its called the ‘ ‘white bread syndrome’. No matter how many gluten free, non hi-fibe, fructose , vegan, paleo loafs are for sale, it’s no match for the plan white, sandwich loaf.

And that’s a comforting thought.   It doesn’t pay to think big. Imagination, vision, and principle won’t win elections. A  more equitable tax regime, a sensible approach to climate, and the prospect that at least someone below the age of 40 can afford a house in our capital cities is not gonna win an election. 

What will win an election,? 

The party that decides to do the very least. Promise bugger all. Promise that by doing nothing everything will stay the same. We at pcbycp are very proud of Australian policy direction through the term of the Coalition and would say why change it? Its been very good for lobbyists, Angus Taylor, a few mates who have the inside on energy policy, Angus Taylors family and very good for a handful of mates who have earnt taxpayer funded sinecures with the AAT, FWC, and Boards in general. Good on em we say!  Mateship is the core principle governing this country and there’s nothing wrong with helping out a mate, provided they’re white sliced, or a sheilah who knows how to shut her mouth during ‘secret men’s business’. 

Is Mateship  the glue that will keep our heroes Ces, Quent, Terry and their sidekick Benny-boy together, through thick and thin?  Without mateship they’d just be four middle aged men in search of a taxpayer funded sinecure, or worse.  But in a cruel twist of fate they find themselves pitted against two of the most powerful individuals in the Australian body-politic, Dutto and Sophie. And above this comic parade of power, intrigue, espionage and high finance, sits Angus. As they say in the SAS ‘Whoever Dares Wins’, Angus wins every time…. Do our heroes have mateship enough to crash through, or are they just out-Towked for not being of the right stripe? Read on,   and this fudamental truth, will opaquely speaking,  dissolve itself. 

The story continues… 

Whilst Ces, Quent and Terry sought refuge in the doorway, they watched as Benny-boy casually walked across the darkened and dust begrimed street. The only illumination coming from the still burning embers of the Victorian Police Special Response Vehicle. It was eerily quiet. Only seconds ago, we were paralysed the dull thud of a drum, and strange unsettling noises. Noises half human, half beast from within the dark grey monolith of a building, too begrimed and coated with decades of dust to read the sign over the great warehouse doors. As our eyes adjusted to the darkness, we could discern, from beneath the giant steel doors a slither of light, 

‘There’s something inside’, whispered Ces

‘I know’, replied Quent, ‘but I’m not altogether sure I want to find out’. 

‘Is there any other building we can find refuge in Terry’?

‘I dunno’, Terry replied casually lighting up another Camel, ‘They’re all much the same and as I haven’t been on the ground for donkeys I can’t really remember which building is what’. 

‘Then this building’, Quent pointed to the facade, in which a huge X was displayed on the concrete facade. ‘What building is this’?

‘Oh that, that’s Building X. It means experimental facility’. 

‘What kind of experiments’? 

‘Oh the impact of radiation, 

On people’?

‘Who else”, Terry paused, ‘and some species of local animal’.

‘Whaddayou mean some species’?

Well we tried to work out the effect of radiation, whether it would be good or bad for kangaroos, wombats, etc. 

Good or bad? 

Well you’ve gotta understand that in the 50’s we could only see good with radiation and nuclear in general. There was never anything ‘bad about nuclear, just the odd mistake’. 

We looked at each other, ‘then what happened?

Well we we shut the facility down, we locked up the building  and just kept enough energy going to keep basics like refrigeration, air distribution, basic lighting, and stabilising’.

‘Stabilising’?

 Yeah, there’s some pretty unusual organisms, a bit like cryogenics, you know to keep the genie in the bottle’… 

‘That’s bullshit, lets take a look’. 

Benny crouched behind us was impatient to get moving, ‘With Sophie and Dutto not accounted for I say we move NOW’!

‘But Benny, it’s a little risky, and ….

And just for god measure he lined up the door with his rocket propelled grenade, and let one go. 

Nothing happened, the RPG just fell to the ground fizzled and went out, ‘Jeez, just like an election promise’ sighed Ces. ‘Yup’,Quent replied: ‘like Turnbull another dud’. 

Then, we heard it again, the dull throbbing, and from within, the sound of chains, metal sheet, something dragging , and the sound was edging to the door, on the other side, whatever it was, was struggling to get out…. And then the booming started over again, with a menacing deliberation, until our ears were overwhelmed by the deep booming cacophony.. Do something Benny, we pleaded. 

‘Allright then’, Benny did as he was trained, loaded another RPG, and covered the door with his Gatling gun… the grenade exploded we could see it had blasted a hole in the door, and from within,  a blood curdling shriek. 

And then as we watched paralysed with fear a claw rent the metal of the door like tinfoil, and with an almighty heave, creaking and groaning, the door burst open. 

And what did we confront, What hideous spectre loomed before us? 

Was it the Minotaur, or something worse. 

Find out in our next genetically modified episode, ‘Elections are not all fun….d’, and ‘Scomo’s Fomo’!