Mrs Culthorpe our Tea-lady before her defilement as an intern in our nations parliament stands outside Australia’s highest office.
Dear reader, we return you to the perilous journey being undertaken by our heroes Ces and Quent as they delve to get to the bottom of who or whom perpetrated a heinous act under their very noses in the corridors of the nations parliament. Still not able to find the penis-wielding oppressor who defiled their tea- lady Mrs Culthorpe. They seek in vain. But this vein has deep thrombosis. Like imagination in public policy, it is dead, moribund, atrophied, fossilised, desiccated, and doomed. With no new evidence coming to light, they are plunged into the impenetrable dark. Captives to Australia’s second most powerful woman, now board member of the Fair Work Commission is that Sophie, “who’s balls are they in the air’? Mirabella. Who defiled their tea- lady? What is Dutto doing astride a Special Public response vehicle on loan from the Victoria Police? And what is it they are suspended above, miles beneath the desert sands of Maralinga? Is it too implausible to countenance? No less plausible than Coalition climate policy? We return to our stygian soliloquy’s in seconds flat as Sophie, stiletto’s in hand makes her way to a deep-down assignation with the head of Border Force, the Army and Australia’s future.
Read on….
In the ether, without wind or atmospheric disturbance we could hear their conversation clearly.
A giant of a man, demonstrates the power of Australia’s AUK-WARD pact in stemming an “Uppity” China.
We watched her tepee, bean-bag, rhombozoid silhouette, as it waddled towards the special response vehicle. We admired the halo of dull light reflecting off the dome of Dutto’s scone. And we listened as the stilettos tapped out her passage poised perilously above the pencil-thin girders and tracery of steel that held this rail track impossibly high above the grey-grim void and the subterranean city of the nether regions.
Sophie stopped at the grill of the special response vehicle, and her head, craned upwards towards Dutto. He just stood there in the cupola, and neither flinched or offered her a greeting. He looked imperious and in his Border Force uniform of pure black and the lightning registers on his collars looked a force to be reckoned with.
Sophie, ever the pugilist was the first to talk, she began the proceedings with a rhetorical flourish, contemptuous and off- hand, and drawing upon Dutto’s special powers as for who and what shall be allowed to enter into the sovereign borders of the world’s densest continent, gave a brief salute.
‘I suppose you think i’ll say; ‘anyone for tennis?”.
Dutto harrumphed a monosyllable reply and a smile coursed across his reptilian features. “Well timed as always Sophe, good to see you’ve got company’! He made a sneering glance in our direction. ‘Always knew at the end of the day you’d be at the back of this. We’ve been busy since we last saw you. And I’ve gotta tell you China has been getting uppity’,
Sophie holds and admires the uncut, “Prince of the Pilbara” diamond before an adoring crowd. Later, (like all who encounter Sophie), it was cut to pieces
With the word,” Uppity”, Sophie stood back to get a better look at Dutto and then raising her hand towards him, ‘Well you’d better get used to it. It aint all bad. There’s reward for those who are prepared to, how shall I put it’? She raised her forefinger, the middle part encrusted with the most enormous Argyle diamond which glinted menacingly in the gloom. ‘There’s always fringe benefits for those prepared to make …. sacrifices’.
‘Only you could be so,. transactional’, Dutto smiled again, ‘Sophie I presume’?
Sophie smirked, that greedy smirk she usually preserved for the law professor in the back shed on her property or for when she got Bronwyn to book the helicopter for her wedding.
Dutto smirked; ‘at you service my lady’.
We were shocked it was so formal, more formal than Prince Andrew’s interview on telly and perhaps more thought provoking. ‘You took your time’, Dutto asked of Sophie,
‘ I thought you’d say that’! replied Sophie, ‘cos I was held up by red- tape and turning to us for emphasis, and held up by those’….. she paused for full effect… ‘Idiots”
‘Shouldn’t be much trouble for longer’, Dutto quipped, ‘is that is that Benny-boy still with em’?
Benny who sat beside us impassively and had been remarkably quiet, let out a short grunt. ‘That’s good, glad to see he’s as talkative as ever, and whilst I’m at it, he hasn’t talked to them about it”
‘Not a word’, Sophie curtly replied, ‘otherwise all of em would’ve had a taste of my persuader’, she slapped the butt of the MP.40 with added emphasis. ‘I know how to make people keep real quiet’
Benny just sat and made no acknowledgement, it was a worrying sign, but Dutto and Sophie seemed oblivious to anyone’s feelings. They were so self-absorbed. We reflected on how that self-absorption, just like Jeff Bezos. That’s why they were the most powerful individuals in Australia. Even more powerful than other giants of the global stage, Craig Kelly, Clive Palmer and George Christiansen.
More powerful than the world’s biggest diamond, a lump of coal (with assistance from an adoring Deputy PM) makes its maiden speech on the Coalition’s carbon policy on the floor of parliament.
We were irked, ‘Them” sounded ominous, and what hadn’t Benny Boy talked about?
Was Benny-boy still with us and to what ends? Will Benny be our undoing or our salvation? We were once again, poised above the precipice and looking either up or down seemed perilous. Taking inspiration from the Coalition’s Climate Policy we knew the best thing, under the circumstance, was to do nothing and pray for salvation.
What is there left to salvage? Find out in the next salvational episode; “ is this salvation or the Salvation Army band I hear”, or… ‘Three salvoes to salvation aint much of a salvation really’.