Australian Federal Police have raided the parliament house gift shop. The raid followed a call to 2UE’s whisper line by an anonymous tipster citing inside knowledge and details of a plan by a group of “face-covered Moslems” to disrupt parliament. The call was heard by Channel 9, whose film crew promptly notified the AFP, then made a beeline for Capital Hill. Sound familiar? Deja vu?
Shop manager Flossie Fairweather politely informed the heavily armed anti-terrorist squad that she had sold out of the offending face coverings. “I sold the last 60 to that charming group of young people barely 30 minutes ago. They said they were Moslem but they did not look like terrorists to me. I think they were heading for the public gallery in that big green room.”
The squad then stormed the House of Representatives gallery with the order, “Remove all face coverings immediately.”
Childish laughter erupted as the group of primary school children removed their Julie Bishop clown face masks. A spokeschild piped up, “We just wanted to have a bit of fun at your expense. We didn’t think you would have learnt any lessons from the Burqa ban debacle last October. You idiots. And by the way, we are not Moslem, not that it should matter one iota. And yes, it was me who phoned 2UE. It has been a pleasure to make a laughing stock of the AFP, the media and parliament. Kids rule! We are the future and don’t you forget it.”
Tony Abbott reacted angrily to the incident, “There will be no more benefit of the doubt for children seeking to harm Australia. We are a free and fair nation, but that doesn’t mean we should let bad children play us for mugs. Let me be quite clear about this. All children, I repeat, all children will now be treated as terror suspects.”
According to Flossie Fairweather, “Sales of the Julie Bishop clown face masks have soared. For fun-loving visitors to parliament house, to not wear a mask in the public galleries is as un-Australian as banning the burqa.”
Rumour has it that an outraged Julie Bishop approached Ms Fairweather, demanding that she withdraw all masks from sale. “Why don’t you wear one of these love. It will be a much better look for you.” came Flossie’s response. A gun-shy, red-faced and highly nervous AFP has kowtowed to Bishop’s demand that the incriminating CCTV footage be seized, archived and marked “Never to be released.”
Riding his bike through the corridors of parliament house, wearing his fire brigade overalls with his red speedos on the outside, donning a hard hat and safety goggles, Tony Abbott stopped a cleaner to ask for directions, “Excuse me, I can’t remember where my office is. I’ve been so busy obeying Peta – running, cycling, life-saving, fire-fighting, kissing babies, visiting factories and gallivanting around the country – that I seem to have forgotten. She sends me here, there and everywhere to keep the media distracted from the real business of prime ministership. I happily use her fail-safe scripted verbatim rhetoric ad infinitum, ad nauseam. She’s a genius. I tried to ad lib a few times with my own ideas but those gaffes made me a laughing stock. Prince Philip was the barbecue stopper of the century. So I just do what she says and follow the script. She runs the government. I call her boss. That’s how I manage to keep my job as PM. Without her I’d be stuffed. I have the political discretion of a flying pink elephant on steroids, with a pretty face, if I might say so.
The ‘cleaner’ was an unrecognised journalist by the name of Paul Kelly, who promptly gave his name. “My word you are multi-talented – a journo, singer-songwriter and a cleaner.”
A hasty shower and a “help-me-get-dressed-and-choose-a-tie-please-boss” later, Abbott addressed the National Press Club with an unread speech prepared by hers truly.
When the people of Australia elected their prime minister they got one of the fiercest political warriors ever known in the history of federal parliament. I am in command and control of this government, and I am getting on with the job of governing our country.
There is absolutely no possibility of me losing my job, despite the wishes of the majority of cabinet and backbenchers who loathe and despise me. I cannot be sacked because I am the boss. Bosses don’t sack themselves.
So Julie, hate me as much as you like. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.
And if you or Malcolm or Scott think you can get rid of me, I’ve got so much dirt on you I could leak like a sieve all day everyday for years. I’ve had my spies planted in your offices and I know you are ratting on me. I eat rats for breakfast, so watch it!
Abbott: Whoops, I seem to have the wrong document. Are there any questions? Yes, you the cleaner I was talking to earlier.
Kelly: Mr Abbott, I put it to you that you have the right document, heinously contrived as a ploy by your chief of staff to look like a mistake but, in fact to shore up her position as pseudo prime minister. What you have just blurted out makes her untouchable. I put it to you that there is an elephant in this room and its name is Peta Credlin. It was you who was elected prime minister, not her.
Abbott: When the people of Australia elected their prime minister they got one of the fiercest political warriors ever known in the history of federal parliament. I am in command and control of this government, and I am getting on with the job of governing our country.
Kelly: Mr Abbott, those are Credlin’s words not yours.
Abbott: Whatever Peta says is true and I stand by her every word. You have my word on that. I put it to you that our discussion – when I said that she runs the government – was a figment of your imagination. I deny having the political discretion of a flying pink elephant on steroids, with a pretty face, if I might say so. With my looks and her brains we are a duumvirate with the intestinal fortitude you, as a cleaner, may never see the likes of again. Better fly now. Come on boss, let’s wing it back to our office. Thank God you know the way.
Vladimir! Vladimir! It’s Ban Ki-moon. I know you’re hiding down here in one of your last economic bastions – coal. There are dead canaries everywhere. That’s proof enough. You’ve sucked the oxygen out of everything else Russian with your feudal-nationalist, anti-West policies sending your country deeper into international isolation. Why do you do it?
Your Ruble is plummeting, your inflation is spiralling, your economy is stagnating taking living standards to new lows. Your poor citizens are suffering, but they blame the West, not you, for all their woes. But you are the reason for the sanctions. We want you to change your ways, but you refuse and Russia suffers. Why do you do it?
Just because I find you impossible to understand and might make the occasional criticism, doesn’t mean I am right and you are wrong. I just don’t understand how you can be such a remorseless, oppressive, arrogant tyrant and still have 88% of Russians approving of you. Guess it must your well-oiled state-run media propaganda machine.
I know that deep down you’re just a big sookie bear with a deep-seated paranoid-schizophrenic fear of losing your honey pot of power. You need help.
I just want a nice, friendly chat about Crimea, Ukraine, Malaysian Airlines MH17 and sanctions – coal included. I want to help you, you poor fellow. I will even admit that you have been misrepresented. I have come to apologise.
Response … Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
OK then, I am left with no choice. My security council anti-Putin secret weapon, code named ‘Julie Bishop from Australia’ which just happens to be my helmet, will find you and frazzle you to death – slowly.
Response … No! No! Anything but that.
OK. If you promise to tell Julie how you manage an 88% approval rating, we will remove all sanctions. Julie’s government is making big changes to the ABC, the Australian Broadcasting Corporation, and she wants some tips on how to run a media system like yours.
Did they get him? No, because Putin’s tactic of runaway aggression always works against the West. His sting worked – Ban and Julie both died of asphyxiation.
The death stare on YouTube
Link to source of illustration – column from The Sydney Morning Herald 23 August 2014.
14 August 2013 – from The Sydney Morning Herald:
‘Young, feisty and with sex appeal’: Abbott talks up candidate
Opposition Leader Tony Abbott has described one of his female candidates as “young, feisty” and having “sex appeal”.
While campaigning in Sydney’s west on Tuesday afternoon, Mr Abbott was asked what Lindsay candidate Fiona Scott had in common with former Coalition MP for Lindsay, Jackie Kelly.
The comments come as the Coalition has worked hard to combat perceptions that Mr Abbott has a “woman problem”. On Tuesday afternoon, the hashtag “sex appeal” was trending on Twitter.
Questions about Mr Abbott’s appeal to women have died down significantly since former prime minister Julia Gillard lost office in July.
Labor frontbencher David Bradbury currently holds the seat on a margin of just 1.1 per cent.
Mr Abbott was at Penrith Stadium with Ms Scott and his daughter Frances on Tuesday to announce $12 million in funding for a community sports centre.
Asked later on Tuesday night whether he regretted the comments, he said ”I was a bit exuberant today”.
22 March 2013
Related Sky News Julie Bishop interview with these excerpts plucked out:
Julie Bishop: He should certainly step down. It is untenable for the Prime Minister to have a Foreign Minister that she cannot trust. Senator Bob Carr was a prominent although covert supporter of the Rudd camp …… If Julia Gillard has a shred of authority left she should sack Senator Bob Carr immediately …… It’s untenable for him to continue as Foreign Minister. There shouldn’t be a slither of light between the Prime Minister and the Foreign Minister and yet there’s this yawning chasm and Bob Carr while-ever he remains in that role will be undermining Julia Gillard, she knows it, everybody in Parliament House knows it. He should go.
This painting by Arthur Boyd (1920-99) was commissioned in 1984 by the Parliament House Construction Authority as the design for a tapestry to hang in the Great Hall. Arthur Boyd, one of Australia’s greatest artists, was approached by the Parliament House architects, Mitchell/Giurgola & Thorp, to conceive of a work of art for this key position on the south wall of the Great Hall – a space intended for ceremonial and state occasions ….. The architectural vision for the Great Hall was that it would convey a sense of the Australian land, emphasising the importance of the physical environment in shaping Australian values.
Imagine that! Parliament House and “shaping Australian values” – presumably good ones – in the one sentiment!
Imagine even remotely linking parliament with its hatreds, vitriol and duplicity with the spirit of the Australian bush! Banjo would turn in his grave.
What is it about ‘the bush’ that is so special to Australians? The bush has an iconic status in Australian life and features strongly in any debate about national identity, especially as expressed in Australian literature, painting, popular music, films and foods.
The bush was something that was uniquely Australian and very different to the European landscapes familiar to many new immigrants. The bush was revered as a source of national ideals by the likes of Henry Lawson and Banjo Paterson. Romanticising the bush in this way was a big step forward for Australians in their steps towards self-identity. The legacy is a folklore rich in the spirit of the bush.
And so, with inspiration from Banjo, we have Julie’s poetic take, as she covets Bob’s job:
CLANCY OF THE AFTERGLOW – J.B. “Bishop” Patters-on
I had written him a letter which I had, for want of better
Knowledge, sent to where I saw him in Washington, weeks ago,
He was fraternising when I saw him, so I sent the letter to him,
Just “on spec”, addressed as follows: “Clancy, of The Afterglow”.
And an answer came directed in a writing unexpected,
(And I think the same was written in a thumbnail dipped in tar)
‘Twas his secretary who wrote it, and verbatim I will quote it:
“Clancy’s gone to New York crowing, and we don’t know where he are.”
In my wild erratic fancy visions come to me of Clancy
Gone a-dining “down the UN” where the western delegates go;
As the limos are slowly stringing, Clancy rides with them singing,
For the Senators life has pleasures that the Opposition never know.
And the UN hath friends to meet him, and their kindly voices greet him
In the murmur of the dealings and the shimmer of its brass,
And he sees the vision splendid of the Security Council extended,
And at night the wondrous glory of the everlasting bars.
I am sitting in my dingy little office, where a stingy
Ray of sunlight struggles feebly down between the chambers tall,
And the foetid air and gritty of the dusty, dirty polity
Through the open window floating, spreads its foulness over all.
And in place of foreign tattle, I can hear the fiendish rattle
Of the cameras and the mikes making hurry down the hall,
And the language uninviting of the media scrum fighting,
Comes fitfully and faintly through the ceaseless tramp of gall.
And the hurrying people daunt me, and their pallid faces haunt me
As they shoulder one another in their rush and nervous haste,
With their eager eyes and greedy, and their stunted forms and weedy,
For Liberals have no time to grow, they have no time to waste.
And I somehow fancy that I’d like to change with Clancy,
Like to take a turn at Foreign Affairs where the seasons come and go,
While he faced the round eternal of the doorstop and the journo –
But I doubt he’d suit the Opposition, Clancy, of “The Afterglow”.
PS: I want your job Clancy.
Shadow Minister for Foreign Matter