Dear reader,
P.M shares one last Dick Joke before fronting an angry mob of Sheila’s outside parliament.
we begin, where we left off, the P.M doing his very best to reassure a wild, angry discontented mob of women. And shockingly, in spite of his considered and measured approach, and from the safety of his very own office, his words had the opposite effect. If the PM couldn’t quell the crowd, who could?
As is often said, events make the person, and for one reason or another, it was “US”, Quent and Ces who nobly stood up to the plate.
Read on.
WE turned to the angry throng! ‘Jeez, give the bloke a break, he’s being sincere. Youse, (we waved our arms to the throng of angry women) are all lucky. You aint been stoned as proclaimed in the bible, nor shot, nor burnt nor righteously slain as required in Corinthians and Leviticus. The PM is a devout man, who wouldnt dis you even if he tried’.
Dutto to Scotty; ” There’s this fat ugly sheilah, an Irishman, an Aussie and a Jew. They walk into a bar’…
‘Just like the ABOS!!’, I said to Ces, ‘we do every bloody thing for em and they’re still UNGRATEFUL’!
Just then, there was a parting of the crowd and the angry mob of bat-shit crazy sheilahs, were stilled, and to our surpsise we could sense movement. We pondered, perhaps this was our P.M performing a miracle? Our own P.M invested with this sense of the occasion, grabbing destiny in both hands and proclaiming his all inspiring LEADERSHIP ONCE and for ALL!
But to our horror. It wasnt’. In a wheelchair, dribbling from the corner of her mouth, Mrs Culthorpe wobbled towards us. The crowd parted reverentially, there was silence again, and from her hand, she proffered a crumpled piece of paper. We opened it, prising each finger one by one loose.
We unfolded the paper, the women of Australia looked on. The worlds press hovered above us. THIS was a moment that will change history we thought.
Mrs Culthorpe, a shadow of her former self, brave- faces it under the media spotlight.
Was this, was the man who had so viciously attacked her?
From the sanctity of parliament itself?
The penis wielding opressor?
The perfidious, priapic, pursuer of pulcheritudinous persons?
Inside, the crumpled fissured countenance, of the leader of the National Party.
‘It was him’ we asked?
She nodded,
‘Are you sure’?
She nodded again.
We’d found our man.
Now, flourishing the image to the world media we knew what we had to do,
To do as every institution and powerful agency in this country had done,
Culthorpe’s condition could only be described as ‘Sub- Optimal”.
We turned to Mrs Culthorpe, crippled, malnourished, a shadow of her former self. She looked at us, and we could sense an expression of relief had dawned upon her. Her face, coursed and wizened by the painful burden of grief and abuse upon abuse pleaded to us. To us, the sacred task of lifting from her shoulders the mantle of pain, and proclaiming her accuser amongst all these fellow sisters. To the sisterhood she beckoned.
Ces and I knew this was it. It was now or never. To make a stand for MEN and WOMEN across Australia. And stand by principle.
Gesticulating in spasms of uncontrollable joy, and consumed by the stroke ridden ghibberish of slobbering anticipation her eyes pleaded SALVATION!. A smile coursed upon her lips, worn thin, and smeared with the patina of lipstick and saliva.
WE paused, and felt the weight of the world.
“YOU’!, we sneered, “YOU SLUT!
YOU HUSSY!
YOU WANTON HARLOT’!!!
Ces giving Culthorpe, the HEAVE-HO! (re- enacted for ‘Australia’s Funniest Home Video Show’).
And then, to the mortification of the crowd, we grabbed both handles of the wheelchair, (‘perambulator’ in polite circles) and tipped her over. She sprawled spread-eagled upon the very attractively designed stone paving, and arms splayed just lay there like a crumpled heap of offal.
The crowd hissed, we had performed a sacred duty and outed “A SQUEALER”, but to our surprise they looked angrier still. Something had gone terribly wrong.
What will happen next?
How could Ces and Quent be so crude?
Was it right to punish a fallen woman?
Find out in our next beguiling episode;
“Dial 000 and ask for Christian”, or …….
“Happy clappers on the bells at Heavens-Gate”.