Scomo and Dutto upload another dick-joke during question time.

Dear reader, our heroes, awaiting ritual castration by a frenzied mob of angry sheilahs sought refuge in the solace that the PM always knew how to deal with the women problem.

And if we were to be mutilated to prove a point it was in the end a cause worth being mutilated for. There was sanctity in spite of the terror that was about to reign over us. (oblique references to Her Majesty are entirely coincidental). We take up where we left off, a couple of balls short of the Parliamentary Forecourt. 

We were listening in rapture to Scomo and Dutto telling another dick joke, unawares that this important and trenchant piece of imaginative story telling was being broadcast to the general public. 

We waitied breathless to hear the punchline. Was it the one about the uncircumcised Rabbi, who forgot his towel at the public baths? Or howsabout the one about the West Indian cricketers who were pissing off the Sydney Harbour Bridge? Could it be the one about the China-man who’d they called “the Button-Champignon”?

‘Too effing right Dutto you funny BASTARD’. P.M responds favourably to Dutto’s newie on the Rabbi and the public baths.

Ces who’s a bit of an expert on this subject hoped it was a newie. 

He’d worn all the others out and wasn’t up to thinking of any new angles. Though we’d become a multi-cultural pluralist society, here, as in Parliament it was all white-bread and refined sugar. It kept the taint of political-correctness at bay and ensured that whatever dick joke we did hear would be readilly transferrable to the bar at the Mathew Flinders Hotel.  Political correctness and wowserism had left a hole in Ces’s repertoire. And it was a source of some shame perhaps on a national perspective that dick jokes that sprang fresh from the mind of anedotal circumstance were in short supply. An insidious sign that perhaps within the cultural fabric of this mighty country, something was NOT QUITE RIGHT! 

But Ces brightened up and mused as the angry throng drew closer and closer; “Spose that’s what Parliament is for? To demonstrate leadership, and dick-jokes represent the progressive side of politics”! 

I had to admit, though the Coalition was allegedly conservative, they were leaders in ‘progressive  dick – jokes’. Once Again Ces was crystaline in his ability to assess a situation.

Michaela tried a dick- joke, but though she tried her very best it is acknowledged that sheilahs shoudn’t do dick Jokes. It’s ” Unbecoming” ( HRH Prince Andrew).

But there was something else, the live feed switched to another exigious corner of the  Parliamentary offices. Being a Friday arvo, we knew that this could only be a MEN- ONLY conversation, as no sheilah would dare stay back after hours after what had happened to Mrs Culthorpe.

Unfamiliar voices were talking about the Labor front bench, and then the women in their own party, all two of them. 

And then. We could hear this swishing sound, sort of like the sound a piston makes a ‘whoosh whoosh’ when it slides in and out of the cylinder block. We thought, this is odd, it just doesn’t sound like Senate Estimates. But this was errie, and the sheilahs, who were about to de- ball us just for being decent blokes in the wrong place at the wrong time were absorbed in what was crackling above their ears. For once, as in the kitchen, their nagging pre-disposition to emotional fury had been STILLED!

We could hear one bloke quite distinctively, (maybe a staffer?), saying; ‘I reckon I could hit her between the tits if I aim and shoot at the same time. And another;  go-orne i’ll betchya fifty ya cant’, an the other bloke saying, ‘I aint shot my load yet’!

What was this? We were staggered, 

Dazza does a great dick- joke and reckons quite rightly that ” people of colour” should have a laugh every now and then. No harm intended.

Were they playing quoits in the parliamentary offices, another clear sign of disrespect?

Der reader, is quoit playing allowed in Federal Parliament? Who’s quoit are they talking about? Find out in our next Parlaimentary session of high intrigue, “ A mis-timed Quoit and you’re’ Oit’?

Or…. “A plenary session obsession confession”