P.M demonstrates forearm technique colloquially referred to as the ” Sledge- hammer”
Dear reader, back again to a tale that seems longer than the Coalition’s negation of a credible climate policy. But there’s cause for optimism, a whole two thousand words have elapsed since any mention was made of Barnaby, Tudgey or Christian. Is this a new dawn? Has dawn broken? “ Who’s dawn”? Dirty finger anyone, ?
Not a dry eye in the audience, so read on about a dry time in the dry heart of the worlds driest continent where all the wet bits, as scarce as they may be, are owned by a man from the Cayman Islands they call ‘Angus’, read on..
‘Look Ces, down there’!!
The ‘Sledge- hammer’ is a desperate tennis strategy designed to bamboozle the opposition.
Quent nudged his companion and pointed to the vast array stretching below them. See that light way over in the corner, that must be a way out? I can tell Ces. There’s a door, of immeasurable size, and above it, a green sign. And above the sign the sign says ‘Exit’.
‘You’re right Quent!” said Ces who’s irrefutable logic was tinged with a tremor of anxiety. ‘The only problem is how do we get over there when we’re stuck up here. I feel like Houdini crossing the Niagara Falls and we aint even got a barrel. You’re right, but thinking of barrels, we do have Sophie in front of us’?
It was typical of their stoic behaviour to make fun of the situation. Poised perilously above the abyss, in nowhere, above nothing, they could still see the funny side. It’s what made the Australians so appreciative of the bond of mateship and Anzackery that could equip them to survive worse scrapes or world wars and the nadir of Australian Climate policy.
Played incorrectly it can mis-fire with disastrous consequences.
‘I dunno Ces, it’s an awful long way down, and even if we tried we’ve got that public order response vehicle packed to the armpits with electronic surveillance equipment, anti riot personnel equipment, water cannon, tasers and face masks for public liaison and school crossing supervision. They’d nab us in seconds and we’d be in a worse position. Perhaps you can ask Sophie, she seems to be calm, and clearly she had an expectation of something like this’.
But. No sooner had the words left Ces’s lips that Sophie turned to us and said menacingly, ‘well boys….. you wait here, cos I’ve got some business to make and any false move Terry will trip the ejector button’. With her thumb turned upside down we knew what she meant, So frozen to our seats we meekly nodded. Sophie stepped out of the tram onto a duckboard between the two slithers of rail. She then walked resolutely to the armoured and armed Public Order Response Vehicle.
Till it gets to the stage where it doesn’t matter what size your constituency
Her MP 40 hung loosely from her side, and in the grey grim gloomy glow she looked even more like an animated wigwam returning to its campsite. But we knew that was a false illusion, cos this was not North America. Sophie by not being a tea drinker was not inclined to tepee, and if she were a native American in America, (or Australia) she would be arrested on the spot for jay-walking, disturbing the peace, vagrancy, and for not knowing Bradman’s test average. We sat and watched, as Sophie was halfway to the armoured vehicle when the turret moved and the hatch opened. The sides of the hatch made a dull mechanic clunk which was swallowed by the cavernous space and from out perspective we saw nothing else but a faint light that shone from within.
After what seemed ages, from the canopy, we saw emerge a gleaming disk. It outshone even the blue light and the reflected a halo of dust and still air. The disk grew in size like the martian tentacles in HG Wells ‘War of the Worlds”, and yet this in Australia, was more a ‘war of the inner earth’. If Australia was ever at war with itself it would be deep down, where destiny was protected by the twin pillars of mining and real estate. In a second we knew who it was, we hadn’t seen him for months, and yet as he emerged it was all dome, all skull and cranium, the visage of the cleverest and shiniest man in our Nations Parliament. Peter “dutto’ Dutton.
‘It’s Dutto Ces’,
‘Yeah I can see that’!
‘What’s he doing down here’?
‘I dunno. But seems Sophie and him are still mates and that can only mean one thing. They’ll open up some more prisons and fill em with refugees or locals from outstations’?
You face the ‘WTF Moment’
‘Nup, it means that and beyond everything, we’ve experienced to date, though far-fetched is in order. These people are on our side in protecting Australia from the taint of foreign-ness, and that’s a great comfort. Even tennis players wont get through their web of raw steel’!
Dutto waved Sophie , and deliberately, the stilettos making dull percussive knocks upon the duckboards, she walked towards Dutto.
Could be worse….Beyond the ‘WTF moment’ Tennis becomes existential.
Will this be Sophies version of ‘Mr Livingstone I presume’? What are we to presume? Presumptions aside you’d be a fool to miss a step in this plausibly penultimate episode, ‘Footsteps in the dark’, or ‘Mind those stiletto’s and fish- nets, one slip and you’re a Downer’!