MDFF 17 February 2018

A territory Tale

I’d like to do a song of great social and political import…  it goes like this….
(Janis Joplin- ‘Mercedes Benz’)…

I’d like to tell a tale of great social and political import…  it goes like this….

A young mother we know and are very fond of lives in a flat in Alice Springs.

Some time ago a ruckus broke out near the flats. Noisy damage to motor vehicles and drunken swearing led to our friend calling the police. The police failed to attend, and still haven’t.

A week later, through circumstances, our friend found herself all alone in the flat with her baby daughter. Her mother was away at a “no signal” outstation (homeland).

Our friend suffered an anxiety attack and had no one to turn to. She called Lifeline and told them she wanted to talk to someone. The person at the other end of the line (and presumably it was a real person), had a questionnaire at the ready:

“Are there any dangerous objects in your home?” Naively: “There are kitchen knives in the kitchen”

“Is your daughter safe?”  “Yes, she’s asleep, I just want to talk to someone”

“Is your daughter in any danger?” “She’s fine, I just want to talk to someone”

“Are you having suicidal thoughts?” “No, I’m not, I just want to talk to someone”

“Are you hearing voices in your head?” “No, only my own voice”

“Is your voice louder than usual” and so it went on…. The Bushwakers- The Drover’s dream… when a very strange procession passed me by, first there came a kangaroo…..

Soon, first came the police, then the paramedics, and then the child protection social welfare mob.

“Is your daughter OK?” “Yes” “Can we see her?” “Sure, just don’t wake her up” All naivety having by now evaporated, she added “You might notice the place is clean and tidy and there are lots of toys”

“We’ll take care of her, while we have you assessed at the hospital?”. “ I’ve called my mother (who had just got into phone range on her return from her homeland) and she will look after her” “If you don’t co-operate we’ll register your daughter as being at risk”, “You’re not laying a finger on my baby”….

After her mother arrived they took our friend to the hospital. She returned home with a pharmacy of pills (I guess ‘pharmacy’ is the collective noun for pills)

Our friend wasn’t born yesterday, she wasn’t swallowing the pills without first looking up her medication on the internet. The pills were anti-psychosis medicine for schizophrenia etc.

The pills remain unswallowed.

In hindsight all she needed was a good sleep and someone to listen to her. She’s since had both, and all is well that ends well.

We’ve recently been sent a photo of the baby and her first ponytail.

All the same somewhere in a filing cabinet, our friend and her daughter are in some report. Some busybody may well keep an eye on them, and jump to conclusions.

Our friend told us that if in future she needs the police to attend to any matter, she’ll call Lifeline! She told us this with her tongue firmly placed in her cheek.

That our friend is Aboriginal should not be relevant to this tale, neither are non-Aborigines exempt from such experiences.

This happens to be the Northern Territory of Australia. If you’re Indigenous, your chances of being caught up in the euphemistically named Welfare net are significantly higher than if you’re not.



PS- If you haven’t seen it yet, you should look at the clip of Lucky Dubé’s “Respect”

Well may it be South African, but the tale is very familiar to us in the Northern Territory.

MDFF 9 February 2018



A lovely holiday down South. Barricades and brickwalls- Kasey Chambers (live)

Today is Australia Day or Invasion Day, whatever. The politics of distraction. While Australia has this great debate, children continue to be taken from their families. Fathers continue to be locked up, taken from their families, true land rights continue to be usurped by bureaucrats, Aboriginal languages continue to be slowly killed by ethnocentric policies. Must stop, can see the glazing over of eyes.

Macy Gray – There is beauty in the world

In ‘Innumeracy’ by John Paulos, the author points out that innumeracy has as great deleterious consequences on society as does illiteracy.

Chapters are sub-titled with such gems as “hair doesn’t grow in miles per hour”. My favourite (on Statistics) has “two out of three doctors prefer paracetamol to aspirin. They couldn’t convince Fred otherwise”.

Those with a reasonable grip on statistics would not consider a 52% electoral win to be a ‘landslide’, nor a “mandate” to carry out unpopular policies.

When our then illustrious Minister of Aboriginal Affairs (Jenny Macklin) declared after the introduction of Income Management that “More money is being spent on food. Aboriginal children are putting on weight”, as far as I’m aware, no one in our rather feeble Australian Fourth Estate posed the question “has the price of food remained the same?”

“How much is ten by ten?” “One hundred!” “How do you know?” “I just know, because it is”

When asked “How many are twelve twelves?” most of us, without hesitation answer “one hundred and forty four”. No need to envisage twelve rows of twelve and mentally count them.

K= Kardiya (white fellow or non Aboriginal person)
Y= Yapa (an Aborigine- in this case a Warlpiri person)

K:  “Where is Juka-Juka?”

Y:  “Karlarra”

K:  “What’s Karlarra?”

Y1: “Karlarra is (hesitates) East”

Y2: “Lawa (No) it is West”

K:  “Where is West?”

Y1&Y2 (in unison): “Karlarra”

K: “Where is that?”

Y: “You know! Where it always is”

Y2 (trying to be helpful): “Yuwayi (yes) it is West”

K: “I only know West when the sun goes down”

Y: “Yuwayi, karlarra, it doesn’t move.

Should the sun suddenly set yatijarra (North), it would be as world shattering an event as if one or both of those dangerously crazy men with weird hairdos press the button they boast about (“My button is bigger than yours”)

To a Warlpiri person, karlarra is karlarra. No need to ask where does the sun rise? what time is it? and where do the shadows fall? No need to wait for the clouds to move.

You don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows… Subterranean Homesick Blues –Bob Dylan….

Many Warlpiri people have difficulty in accepting that kardiya often don’t know which way the wind blows, which way karlarra is. This usually doesn’t bother them a great deal. It puzzles and amuses them.

Kardiya on the other hand are often greatly bothered by Yapa- “Why don’t they grow veggies?”, “Why don’t they get a job?” “Why don’t they send their kids to school” “why don’t they….?” ad infinitum. They are not amused.

The answer my friend may well be blowing in the wind and may well be found in Maggie’s Farm…

Well, I try my best to be just like I am,

But everybody wants you to be just like them

Here again… “In Australia, our ways have mostly produced disaster for the Aboriginal people. I suspect that only when their right to be distinctive is accepted, will policy become creative”… Kim Beazley Sr.

Some decades ago, there were three blind old ladies in Yuendumu. Early in the morning they’d set off pakuru-junpurrpa-piya (like processionary caterpillars), lead by a sighted old lady. In single file linked by kalangu (digging sticks) they’d head karlarra-kurra (due west) Baby Elephant Walk (piano solo) Hatari soundtrack – Henry Mancini

At some distance from the settlement they would gather firewood. That afternoon, again kalangu linked they’d head back balancing large bundles of firewood on their heads.

Their day’s work having been done, they’d amuse themselves by playing blind man’s bluff, without the need for blindfolds. Go karlarra the sighted lady would sing out to one of the blind ladies who would promptly stumble over a recently placed pile of firewood. This would be cause for much shrieking and giggling. They all joined in.

When Sandy Blight (Trachoma) had extinguished their eyes, it had not snuffed out their sense of direction, nor their joie de vivre.

For the Warlpiri Nation’s joie de vivre to remain unextinguished, requires their right to be distinctive to be recognised. It requires the authorities to have a better sense of direction when formulating and implementing policies affecting Warlpiri lives. Bob Seger, West of the Moon



PS- Have just read Alexis Wright’s ‘Tracker’. Couldn’t put it down. All those who think they know better, read ‘Tracker’ and think again.

“Will the Queen be safe?”

Ira Maine is perturbed – read on

My dear Sratny of the Rozzle, and assorted associates,

In case you missed it (Front page of the Age, Thurs, Feb. 8) a visually impaired British journalist, one Mohammed Salim Patel, has been issued, not with a guide dog, but with a horse! 
(What next I ask myself? a heffalump or p’raps a giraffe?)
The poor bloke has a ‘dog phobia’ and to fix up the siddyashun, he has been given a two foot high American miniature horse. 
Where does it sleep? I ask myself.  Is it liable to shit itself in Harrods? Have a slash in the public gallery at the House of Commons? Break wind explosively at the Abbey? Leave steaming heaps at Buck House? Kick down the back door in the mating season and set about sexually assaulting unsuspecting Alsatians?  Will the Queen be safe?
This, as you can see, presents us with a swathe of equine equanimity problems the which, in the interest of proper public order must be immediately addressed.
What about the blue-arsed fly, or for that matter, the rust coloured European horse fly? One bite from any one of the aforementioned and the aforesaid horse, in self-defence might deprive an innocent bystander of his crown jewels.
Mark my words, havoc on the streets will be the only result. Multiply the situation a few hundred times and mayhem will prevail.
‘Doomed, I tell you, doomed! We are all doomed!’
Ira Maine


Adultery has always been of interest to us here at PCBYCP HQ.  From a purely sociological view point.  Our interest was piqued by a recent New Yorker article,“In defence of adulterers”. Unsurprisingly Ira Maine picked up the theme.  

A very interesting New Yorker piece on the perennially delicious business of adultery.
Anybody, surely with a grain of sense must be of the opinion that all of that precocious sexual energy, that ‘hump anything that breathes’ drive that nature endows us with from puberty onwards, does not miraculously lessen, dissipate or disappear after we’ve been married. Certainly and initially it is damnably difficult in marriage to abandon that desire, endowed by Nature, to make every woman in sight heavy with child. It is after all, our principal function. Nature designed us, both men and women, to ensure the human race continues. Philosophy, religion and politics and all of the other reasons for existence become mere peripheral humbug when a breathlessly attractive woman, hoves into view.
The most potent, the most sexually driven period of our lives is somewhere between puberty and twenty. That drive obviously continues long after this but its intensity lessens. The odd thing about this teenaged, all-consuming sexual appetite is that although post-pubescent boys can undoubtedly make post-pubescent girls pregnant, the medical profession  warns us that pregnancy at such a young age can put girls lives at risk.
So, what are we to do with this intemperate eruption of testosterone? If, as a fresh generation of the newly minted male emerges, they are, of necessity, denied access to their female peers, it follows that any compassionate, worthwhile society must surely seek to address this problem in a mature and properly positive way. For a young man, this period is both an astonishingly difficult and an astonishingly important one, a period which, in my view, is disgracefully neglected in our society.
The young man, bursting with manhood and surplus spermatozoa, is desperately in need of a helping hand. There is, as we are all aware nothing of the kind available. As a consequence, our ill-informed youth, having entered the fray and elevated his cannon, finds himself in continual danger of going off half-cocked. A refined intimate education at this time should be not just available, but absolutely de rigueur, an essential requirement which our society might so easily provide. Why on earth do we so callously leave these young men, in extremis, to deal with this problem single-handedly?
On the surface, of course, the brothel, (or ‘stew’ as Shakespeare called it)  is an obvious solution, but hold hard there, hold hard. To any of us who have visited these establishments, they are, first and foremost, places of business, of a crudely manufactured cold-comfort ‘intimacy’ where, before a chap has even viewed the ‘merchandise’, cruel business steps in and demands cash in advance for ‘the pleasure of your business’. Apart from the ensuing pre-paid personal gratification, there is little here to offer the growing boy in terms of the necessary instruction. Besides, where is a twelve year old to get the hundred or so bucks to allow him to indulge in knocking-shop rumply-pumply in the first place? He would have to deliver papers by helicopter, night and day, for years, just to save the damned deposit! 
But despair not, young man, despair not. There is,I feel, another way, which brings me back by circuitous means to the delicious business of adultery.
Society is swamped with brothels and adultery. There are, as we all know, as many reasons for infidelity as there are knickers behind cushions,  trysts behind hedges and  passionate pantings in Palladian porticos. Most of these reasons are, consciously or otherwise, attempts to  recapture the breathless excitement of early passion when the delicious importunings of heart-stopping lust took precedence over all else. Marriage tends to dull this edge to the point where, as the US writer Eve Babitz cynically puts it:
‘There is a moment when a man develops enough confidence and ease in a relationship to bore you to death.’
This ‘moment’ may very well explain the emergence amongst us of the mature woman who, having fulfilled her marital responsibilities, is now possessed of confidence enough and courage enough to abandon herself to the serious pursuit of sexual satisfaction, a satisfaction perhaps denied her in the exhausting humdrum of marriage and children.  She is, at last, (at least theoretically) free to enjoy those extra-marital activities her stunned and red-faced husband has been lying about for years.Sexual satisfaction, however is not guaranteed.  Far from it, the woman is just as liable to experience the ‘wham, bam’  syndrome outside marriage  as it surely existed within. There must be another way.
To be continued . . . . (ed).

MDFF 30 December 2017


Wasn’t going to send another Dispatch in 2017, but I received some good news so here goes…

On 26th October Malcolm Turnbull rejected the Uluru Statement following a Cabinet decision.

Thus I resigned myself to 2017 finishing on that sour note and to have a break and once again take up the cudgels next year.

My resignation proved pre-mature- someone sent me a link to a NEW website, a NEW Government initiative. Something positive to bring in the NEW Year.

As previously mentioned the Prime Minister’s prime objection to the Uluru Statement from the heart was that it sought, as he called it a “third tier of Government”. I assumed this to be a lie, but in view of the olive branch emanating from the Department of the Prime Minister and Cabinet, I thought I’d better ‘fact check” this. So here it is…  (check it out- it’s only one page)

Janis Joplin – Piece Of My Heart

Maybe I am blinded by my prejudices, but nowhere in the statement do I perceive there to be a push towards a third tier of Government, not even reading between the lines. Should any of you think otherwise, I would gladly hear from you.

Another reason Malcolm Turnbull gave for summarily dismissing the Uluru Statement from the heart, is that he thinks a referendum would have almost no chance of success. In this he is probably right. The days when a quarter of a million people walked across the Sydney Harbour Bridge for Reconciliation are long gone. The politically motivated opportunistic stigmatizing propaganda barrage has put the kibosh on that.  A change to the Australian Constitution requires a referendum which has a majority in every state of the Federation- this has proved notoriously difficult to achieve. Malcolm Turnbull had no such qualms however when he lead the Republican charge for the 1999 referendum. Back then he lost the referendum, on this occasion he lost respect, with which in my opinion he wasn’t over endowed with in any case.

You can imagine my delight when I stumbled on this:

“FAST food fans, listen up! McDonald’s has added a NEW addition to the Big Mac family – the Big Mac BLT. The US chain’s iconic takeaway, which already features American cheese, crisp lettuce, special sauce, onions and pickles, now comes with a rasher of bacon.”

But when I came across I was simply ecstatic!

The Closing the Gap Refresh consultations were launched on 7 November 2017 in Broome, WA at the Gimme Club

The Rolling Stones- Gimme Shelter

“Australian governments are committed to working together, and with Indigenous leaders, organisations and communities to refresh the Closing the Gap agenda”

20 December 2017

Yes sir, a NEW carrot !

“Dangling a carrot in front of a donkey—or anyone else for that matter—is not nice, and not fair, unless you eventually plan to give it up to them (Vera Nazarian) John Lennon, Happy Christmas…

See ya’s next Year,



Dear loyal readers

there is a distinct possibility that we will not post again until 8 January.  Of course if we can rouse ourselves from our end of year revelries we may have an intermediate post.  In the mean time enjoy the next couple of weeks, love and laugh with gusto and think kind thoughts.

Reciprosity: I gave the manager of our local service station/PO/store a card and small gift thanking him for bringing a smile and joy to our community every day.  He has recently had his application for permanent residency rejected.  He is highly educated, immensely personable and a decent person.  This rejection is another blight on our country.  Today he gave me a bottle of single malt.  And I thought he was a teetotaller.


Cecil Poole

MDFF 23 December 2017

Musical Dispatch from the Front -Ad hominem- December 2017

Hi again,

I recall English lessons in first year High School (year 7) in Hilversum. The teacher used to spend school holidays in England so as to enable him to better teach English to us Dutch kids.

He valiantly tried to teach us to correctly pronounce the English language’s only definite article, the word ‘the’.

“Je steekt je tong tussen je tanden” which we did with great gusto. “Repeat after me- ‘The’….” Despite our tongues being firmly placed between our teeth, in unison we blurted out “Duh”

It used to drive our teacher up the wall when after repeated attempts he never got us to produce a convincing English sounding “The”.

My dad used to tell us with great glee about the time he overheard a German grandmother in an Australian supermarket calling out to Jason, her grandson… “Scheißen, Scheißen

The irony when he subsequently couldn’t pronounce his own great-grandson’s name ‘Jethro’ wasn’t lost on him (my mother used to call him “Yet-roe”). For some inexplicable reason my dad had no difficulty in pronouncing ‘Heathrow’ which is what he ended up calling Jethro.

So when a friend sent me this link  to a Ted Talk ‘Teaching English without Teaching English’, I had little doubt the talk would be up my alley, and indeed it was. For those who don’t press the delete button, I can assure you that spending 19 minutes listening to Professor Roberto Guzman is really worthwhile.

Mr. Lesley taught us Matriculation English (year 12). He used to bring newspapers to class, purchased out of his own pocket, a copy for each student.

We’d discuss the front page, question it, apply our BS detectors to it, analyse the stories for verifiable truths or the lack thereof and so on. Mr. Lesley made a significant contribution to the lessening of ovine and asinine tendencies in society. It is obvious from the current socio-political landscape, there are not enough Mr. Lesley’s.

These Dispatches have been railing against the Intervention and the assimilationist imperative driving it for as long as I can remember. Reference has often been made to the semantic attack on Indigenous Australia. In one Dispatch, then Minister of Indigenous affairs Jenny Macklin was described as the undisputed Australian Queen of the ‘non sequitur’. The use of straw-men, euphemisms, metaphors, stigmatization, propaganda and lies have all been invoked in what I call my modest effort at ‘counter propaganda’. Bob Marley – Get Up Stand Up (for your rights)

No sooner did the Ted Talk teach me the meaning of ‘ad hominem’ than I witnessed a prime example of it on the ABC’s Q&A programme featuring our PM.

An Aboriginal lady tackled Malcolm Turnbull on his rejection of the Uluru Statement. When Turnbull started losing the argument he resorted to that nasty technique of speaking over the top of the other person and not let them finish. He eventually invoked the two Indigenous members of parliament (Ken Wyatt and Linda Burney) as his justification for the rejection- a non-sequitur if ever there was one. This was then followed by the PM getting on his high horse and making an ad hominem attack on the lady by accusing her of being disrespectful to the two Indigenous members of Parliament.

As Roberto Guzman said in his TED talk, “….ad hominems are terrible but are very useful in the hands of people who have no scruples….”

The Staple Singers Respect Yourself Live Filmed Performance 1972

Meanwhile, all of you have a wonderful Christmas


Aretha Franklin (The Queen of Soul)

Poetry Sunday 17December 2017

Everybody Knows  by Leonard Cohen

Everybody knows that the dice are loaded
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed
Everybody knows that the war is over
Everybody knows the good guys lost
Everybody knows the fight was fixed
The poor stay poor, the rich get rich
That’s how it goes
Everybody knows
Everybody knows that the boat is leaking
Everybody knows that the captain lied
Everybody got this broken feeling
Like their father or their dog just died

Everybody talking to their pockets
Everybody wants a box of chocolates
And a long stem rose
Everybody knows

Everybody knows that you love me baby
Everybody knows that you really do
Everybody knows that you’ve been faithful
Ah give or take a night or two
Everybody knows you’ve been discreet
But there were so many people you just had to meet
Without your clothes
And everybody knows

Everybody knows, everybody knows
That’s how it goes
Everybody knows

Everybody knows, everybody knows
That’s how it goes
Everybody knows

And everybody knows that it’s now or never
Everybody knows that it’s me or you
And everybody knows that you live forever
Ah when you’ve done a line or two
Everybody knows the deal is rotten
Old Black Joe’s still pickin’ cotton
For your ribbons and bows
And everybody knows

And everybody knows that the Plague is coming
Everybody knows that it’s moving fast
Everybody knows that the naked man and woman
Are just a shining artifact of the past
Everybody knows the scene is dead
But there’s gonna be a meter on your bed
That will disclose
What everybody knows

And everybody knows that you’re in trouble
Everybody knows what you’ve been through
From the bloody cross on top of Calvary
To the beach of Malibu
Everybody knows it’s coming apart
Take one last look at this Sacred Heart
Before it blows
And everybody knows

Everybody knows, everybody knows
That’s how it goes
Everybody knows

Oh everybody knows, everybody knows
That’s how it goes
Everybody knows

Leonard Cohen

MDFF 16 December 2017

Musical Dispatch from the Front- Listen!- December 2017


Many a Dispatch has alluded to the failure of mainstream Australia to listen to Indigenous Australia.

From a 2014 Dispatch: “…I saw David Suchet’s retrospective on his 25 years of portraying Agatha Christie’s Poirot. David Suchet kept switching from himself to his Poirot persona. At one point he quotes Poirot in his Belgian/French accent: “I hear what you say, I listen to what you mean”

If only the multitude who have descended upon remote Aboriginal Australia to impose Stronger Futures and to Close the Gap would follow Poirot’s example. They come and organise endless meetings at which they push their agendas. If only they didn’t just hear what is being said, but listened to what is meant…”

Thus UNSW lecturer Caroline Wake’s review in The Conversation headed “Barbara and the Camp Dogs turns pub theatre into an impassioned call to listen to Indigenous Australians”, was right up my alley. It runs to 23rd December at the Belvoir St. Theatre.

Ursula Yovich stars as Barbara….
Ursula Yovich “Dance me to the end of love”…

I think I’ve mentioned once before that I don’t consider quoting myself as plagiarism, so here is a comment I submitted to the Article in the Conversation….

“What a timely piece- This morning, paraphrasing Yothu Yindi, ‘I saw it on the Television’  …Yothu Yindi- Treaty…

There was Malcolm Turnbull, jubilant about the passage into law of Same Sex Marriage. Not surprising, being the politician he is, he took a fair bit of the credit. He even asserted that Australia was the land of the “Fair Go”. Senator Brandis was also jubilant.

This article mentions Malcolm Turnbull’s betrayal in relation to his rejection of the Uluru Statement from the Heart. The “Fair Go” he invoked on today’s occasion, was not at all evident in that rejection. It wouldn’t be so bad, if his rationale for rejecting the Uluru statement wasn’t based on a blatant lie- the statement cobbled together at great expense by a broad section of Indigenous Australia never asked for a third tier of Government. They simply asked for a Voice. A voice with constitutional protection so it couldn’t be silenced at the whim of Government (such as happened to ATSIC under John Howard)

The attack on Indigenous Australia is multi-pronged and under the radar.

At the end of October Senator Brandis wrote to the Central Australian Aboriginal Legal Aid Service. CAALAS was advised that North Australian Aboriginal Justice Agency Ltd. will be the funded provider in the southern region of the Northern Territory. As of next year (2018) there will be “fly in fly out” lawyers attending to the legal needs of Central Australian Aborigines.

“… I acknowledge CAALAS’ long history in providing legal assistance services to the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people of Central Australia…” wrote Senator Brandis when delivering his death knell to CAALAS, A bit pedantic on my part, but I wasn’t aware there was such as “The Torres Strait Islander people of Central Australia”

The fight for rights worldwide is punctuated by iconic music, theatre and writing. Barbara and the Camp Dogs combines all three!

Long after the details of Native Title and John Howard’s treacherous 10-point plan are lost into the mists of communal amnesia, Yothu Yindi’s “Treaty” and Midnight Oil’s “beds are burning” will continue to resonate.  Midnight Oil- Beds are Burning…

Music is one of the most powerful weapons available to those silenced. That is why such as the Taliban ban (no pun intended) music and dancing.

As that song from the U.S. anti-segregation movement said ‘We shall Overcome someday” Joan Baez – We shall Overcome

All they were asked for was, a Voice with Constitutional protection, all they’re giving is nothing.

But they can’t stop the music…..

A couple of pertinent songs by Patrick Davies

And then (dare I mention it) there is that song from my parent’s generation… The Internationale…

Anyway, cheer up you mob…. Here’s some up lifting music….

Rumaal – Maati Baani ft. Bhutta Khan…

Who cares if we can’t understand a word!


Sam’s moral dilemna

Real Leadership demonstrates Real Mateship.

There’s trouble in parliament. And Paradise aint lookin too hot either.  It seems that big money is clouding the judgement of our elected representatives.

Sam is misunderstood for looking after his mates.

Before we continue, we should like to remind you that in spite of repeated attempts, and at vast expenditure of our depleted resources, we at pcbycp have not been able, (yet) to secure funding from the Chinese Communist Party for our ventures. WE are very keen to build a new corporate headquarters with gaming lounge, jacuzzi and health facility. We also have offered esteemed , (some may same glorious) members of the communist party a free pcbycp neck tie, (each comes with an inbuilt listening device and recording system) to ensure that they are kept up to date with the most current pcbycp musings, and a carte de visite, to most federal, state and local government representatives with their attendant banking details. In this way we hope to further streamline the planning process, to ensure that their funds, secured from state enterprises are safely invested in a sovereign state where the RULE OF LAW is respected.

So our dissapointment for being overlooked by second tier politicians who offer nothing much more than a crumpled tram ticket is bitterly dissapointing. We are disgusted that our entreaties to offer access to all politicians of any colour, and the offering of free accomodation for family members and travel vouchers have been eschewed and trumped by members of the Minerals Council, the Australian Business Council and Vice Chancellors from all the major universities. And disgusted that our plan to fast track resources, (Our Long March Investment portfolio) has been railroaded by the Murdoch press who’ve come up with their own shabby version, variously described as NBN.

The fact is, Dastyari and Robb haven’t gone far enough.

Robb looks after mates but doesn’t have “funny sounding name”, a sign of TRUE MATESHIP!

Thay are shirking their responsibilities to the party and by doing so inadvertently mocking the eternal presence of chairman Mao, who famoulsy saved China from the unelected kleptocracy to give it to his mates. In the spirit of mateship we beg the CCP to have another crack at PCBYCP.

We are loyal, and understand real politik. And unlike members of both parties, very happy to be upfront about where our donations come from. And, even further, once processed, where they go.

Gareth and Ali, Proving real-politik can be FUN

So let’s be honest about political donations, and understand one binding principle of Australian politics, money talks. And we agree wholeheartedly that dissidents, who don’t have much money get way too much say on stupid things like democracy and human rights. That’s the good thing about having Andrew Robb on board. A safe pair of hands he understands real-politik like Gareth did over the coprses of all those East Timorese.

And if we’re to be respected on the international stage, we are honour bound to do our own heavy lifting and ensure that political parties tow the line and do what’s best for those who don’t call Australia home. But have an intuitive understanding of Australian Tax Policy.

Drinking over the corpses of ” silly ” free thinking” East Timorese.