We find ourselves where we left off, being slotted into the bleakest place in Strayla, ( even worse than Chaddy) the Holiday Inn. Will our heroes be deep cleansed? read on…

The gleaming portal of the worlds second ugliest hotel leered at us, (Barangaroo is touted to be the global leader)  the cops formed a cordon. Just as we approached the front door and the retinue of PPE biological warfare, special Quarantine Enforcement Police Unit gathered, Mr Whu greeted us. ‘Hello Boys, you’ve made me go hot and cold, and’… But Ces had had enough.

”Enough of this BULLSHIT WHU’!

You pretended to be a left leaning commie and you’re in bed with Lindsay, the most selfish prick on the planet. He makes Bezos look like fucking Mother Theresa, you should be ashamed, They wouldn’t do that in China’!

‘Frogs testicles’! he sneered back at us. ‘In China we are all communist, communists with capitalists tendencies, if you’re of the party you are just a bit more communist that the rest. I hold that exalted position through my bolt and node initiative, to open up airports and quarantine stations for the betterment’, he paused and looked to the east reverentially, “of Mother China’. 

‘Fuck me’, whispered Ces, ‘he’s gone the full monty, he actually thinks he’s anointed, it’s like Bob Santa without a social conscience’. But what shocked us next made our jaws drop, 

“Oh thought I’d found ya here comrade, how you getting on with my boys”?

It was Lindsay, he was decked out in a Mao suit and had an order of “the three gorges dams” on his breast pocket, he knew what we were thinking. ‘Ignore the optics boys, sometimes you just have to humour em a bit”. But Mr Whu was somewhere else, he was speaking mandarin now, and all of us just had to stand and listen… 

‘Hey Danny boy wake up, we’ve got work to do’.. 

Danny, who we thought was Mr Whu regained attention, ‘yeah right’, Process em?

‘You got the camera crews’?

Yep, has Jamie and Andrew arrived yet?.. they’re in the hotel foyer., Good oh, let’s get cracking. ‘Come on youse’! Escorted by our as yet unfamiliar police cordon we were frog-marched into the foyer.

WE were blinded by the eruption of flash bulbs and prodded with microphones as the swirling masses clamoured, reporters, journalists, the Canberra press gallery and second tier celebrities desperate to raise their facebook profile.  The most aggressive, an innocuous little bald man, thrust a SKY NEWS mike into our faces, held us tightly with a squirrel grip and said, “My name Is ALAN, just do as I say and your lives will be spared”. 

The interview began, 

‘Did you willingly infect these staff with a nebuliser, when you arrived from Texas’? The grip tightened, we knew what to do, we stammered “Yes’. 

“And did you wilfully infect this hotel quarantine zone after returning from Aspen’?

The grip tightened again, 

‘y..y.yess’,  

‘And are you bloody sorry and will do anything to clear the poor government who have been shellacked for this catastrophe through no fault on their behalf” Just then we saw from the throng the striking profile of our new mate ‘Dutto’, he signalled to us, we nodded in affirmation.

‘y…y…yes..

The flash bulbs went mental, it was blinding, the next thing we knew, we must have passed out, and when we awoke, it was as if in a dream. 

And as the mist of unconsciousness cleared, we were aware of one thing, the towering shadow of a colossus.  Was it Ben Roberts Smith? The answer was revealed to us, when that familiar booming voice, redolent of power and absolute power, whispered to us, ‘are ya gonna be good boys’?

We knew the answer, “yess”, we stammered “Good then, all I want you to do now is tell these people from the Red Cross and Amnesty International that you are not Julian Assange, and you think that your old mate Lindsay has saved the country and your necks in this hour of need”. 

“Hour of need?

 “yes, I’ve saved us all from the single biggest catastrophe of all time’!

“Covid’? we stammered, 

‘Another annexation of another piece of the Portsea beach’, 

‘Ouch’!, Alan still had us in his vice- like  grip

‘Now the crown is mine to wear. I not only own the highways, the trucks and the  airport but I now own the whole fucking Casino business because as the enquiry found, I am the only man  left in Strayla of impeccable character and principle. 

He sniggered, you always knew that DIDN’T YOU’!!

“Yes Mr Lindsay, your hero- ship Sir”, 

“Good! we understand each other, 

‘I’ve got an old mate who’ll prime you for the next interview, and then if you Sign these documents, you’ll be Jake’, 

He then sniggered more ominously, and whispered, we could smell the stale odour of footy franks and Ferguson Plarre Coffee Scrolls. ‘Everything  will be sorted’. 

Then he gave us his very own Tony Abbott onion wink.. 

We‘d gone from shit-scared to being scared-shitless….

What will happen to our heroes? Will they be able to squeeze this-un out? Find out in our next evacuatory episode, “Tighter than a neon nuns nasty”, or “A squirrel grip in a tight squeeze”.