This episode has been kindly sponsored by Stuart Robert MP and his mates from Infosys. Stuart kindly declined an offer to be interviewed by this masthead, suggesting there was a conflict in his personal interests via the unnecessary and tedious requirement to be honest about his business dealings as a cabinet minister. WE heartily agree.
Dear reader we return, unhappily, unwillingly, unflinchingly to our saga.
Three good men stand in the desert wastes of Outback Australia.
The dead centre.
A place so dead even the non-dead bits look a bit dead. Where only the nation’s finest, the thin blue line of justice, the NT, West Australian, Queensland police patrol an area a million times greater than Ferguson Missouri to do what their Life’s work is about. To imprison, to arrest and subjugate the lawless indigene’s who must be, if needs be KILLED so that they may learn the gift of good governance.
This episode is bought to you by Hancock prospecting and a tribute to those stout heart and minds who reap benefit by cleansing the land of the taint of nativism and can turn a useless patch of desert into RIVERS OF GOLD!
Sadly, though the very leader of the Hancock dynasty Gina herself is mired in a nefarious plot to gift Gold Ingots to the King, formerly prince Charles, now KING CHARLES the Turd. In order to secure a seat in the HOUSE OF LORDS!
For as we have discovered even the most powerful woman in Australia is in thrall to the biggest crime syndicate of them all, the ‘Firm’, aka, the House of Windsor.
Gina has lost the Gold, Sophie has turned up to find it, and Gina’s peerage may rest in the balance. It’s a three plumed disaster, and whichever way you look at it, it can only get worse.
Will the King succeed?
Will Gina get her Royal Gong?
Will our hapless heroes survive a deathly grilling from Sophie who, though bounded by the principles of fair play as a member of the Fair Work Commission, is callous, evil, indifferent to suffering. Or anything that tempers her taste for absolute and unlimited POWER!
Gina, arguably Australia’s most powerful woman seeks a peerage from King Charles the Turd through the undeclared gift of several suitcases of gold bullion. Her kindness has not gone unnoticed by the GOP who’ve sked her if she’d like a seat on bench on the Supreme Court when she gets bored of being filthy rich.
We return to our saga;
So, Sophie pulled out another Sobrani, haplessly we realised at the precise moment of Sophies arrival, we’d finally run out of Camels. We looked to Sophie for inspiration, perhaps the thought dawned we could bludge a smoke off her ladyship? We’d heard that before execution your entitled to a fag or a bottle of beer. Perhaps Sophie would be touched by one last brief compassionate gesture before unlocking the bolt of her Kalashnikov and riddling us more thoroughly than an empty pasta colander at a mafia dinner dance?
Sophie, however, was in no mood for trifle;
‘You thought you could get away’, she laughed again. It was worse than a Hyena on heat, worse than the sound that a little rabbit makes when its snared, worse than listening to Pauline Hanson in question time.. ‘You thought you could escape me, you thought’…
Ces interjected; ‘But what we don’t understand. Last time we saw you at Radium Springs, (the underground nuclear facility set up beneath Maralinga in the 1950’s) you were in a death dance with Old Potato Head Dutto. You’d exposed him for what he was, a crustacea like hybrid, and you were determined one way or another to finish him off!
WE thought you were’.. He paused for added emphasis, ‘DEAD’!
Ha aha ahah…… ahahahah…. hahaha… ha…. and hahah more mad laughter ennsued.
King Charles the Turd auditions for the remake of Lawrence of Arabia.
“You can’t kill me!!! It’s just not that easy.
See this’!
She patted her patent leather jack boot, it made a metallic clang, ‘It’s titanium alloy’!
‘See this’! She squeezed her kneecaps, and we heard a percussive thwack, ‘that’s pure molybdenum inserts’
‘And feel this’! We recoiled at the thought and gestured ‘no thankyou’, as her pudgy fingers caressed her thigh, ‘pure polycarbonate’!
And this! Her hands moved suggestively to her midriff, and all three of us being gentlemen averted our eyes, what with the jackboots, the whip, the pudgy bejewelled fingers and the leather skirt it was just too much. ‘Well look then you pathetic bastards”! At this we glanced upwards and stared back at the dry desert. ‘THIS…. it’s all space-age reinforced carbon- fibre with Zircon polycarbonate and anodised aluminium inserts’! Another metallic clang. ‘You see boys I’m not only bulletproof but I’m inflammable, I’m rust-resistant and then she snarled, I’m utterly impregnable’!
What could we do? We felt embarrassed. We’d rather not.
‘SO BOYS’! She dragged on another sobrani.
Persistent rumors abound that Gina may be seeking more than a peerage and Camilla has been interviewed about the possibility of a serious secret rival kept by King Charles in the wings.
Tell me, in just one sentence what ya done with the GOLD!
‘If you cant give me a straight answer I’m afraid you’re use to me is over. And you’ll stay here for the carrion, and i’ll just go back to my safe possie on the Fair Work Commission. And, (she sniggered) to be Fair and do the odd bit of work and get commissions for back-room deals. For boys that’s the sweetener of politics, whereas, youse, as mere journalists, just don’t get it’.
Will our heroes get it?
And if they do, will it be fully franked?
Find out in our next Fair Work Episode; ‘a commissioner in the hand is worth more than two from the push’. Or, ‘whichever way you look at it, you might be marginalised, underpaid and homeless, but Sophie will always be Ugly’!
There’s succor in that!