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Judgement Day?

By Robert Stygall  

ScoMo and Peter were tragically killed in a helicopter crash, on their way to a party fund raiser – ironically hosted by Bronwyn.

They arrive at the Pearly Gates to be met by Saint Peter. He opens up the big black book at the appropriate page and reviews the entries. He tut tuts as he reads down the list, muttering aloud to himself as he scans the text, ‘ruthless leadership coup – oh dear’, ‘intimidation – oh my’, ‘Manus and Nauru – oh my goodness.’

ScoMo and Peter look sheepishly up at Saint Peter, nervously awaiting his decision. ‘It’s not good for either of you,’ he says finally.

ScoMo gasps; ‘you don’t mean Hell?’

‘It was close, but no’ says Saint Peter.

‘So it’s Heaven’ beams the less saintly Peter.

‘I’m afraid not,’ is the reply.

‘So what exactly do we get?

‘Purgatory,’ replies Saint Peter.

‘How does that work?’ Peter grunts.

‘Well it should be quite familiar to you, Peter. Think of it as indefinite detention.’

‘So how long will it last?’

‘Until Judgement Day.’

‘How long could that be?’

‘Could be many many years, who knows.’

So, with much wailing and crying ScoMo and Peter were transferred to Purgatory. The years passed and along the way they were joined by others they had worked with previously. Tony in particular was really annoying since he had arrived. He had never forgiven ScoMo for taking the job he felt was rightfully his. He almost died from shock when he was told he was not going to Heaven.

‘Speak to the Arch-Bishop, he’ll vouch for me,’ he had told Saint Peter with confidence.

‘Unfortunately he is incommunicado,’ replied Saint Peter.

Tony looked confused.

‘Subsequent to the findings of the Royal Commission, he’s in Hell’ said Saint Peter.

As time went by ScoMo was becoming increasingly worried about the mental state of Peter (the less saintly). The not knowing when the time in Purgatory would end was taking its toll. After almost a year of refused requests, ScoMo was eventually allowed to speak to Saint Peter.

‘I’m seriously worried about the health of Peter, he really needs to see a specialist.’

‘But there are plenty of medical staff in Purgatory’ said Saint Peter.

‘But you know how it is, Saint P, if they are there, they aren’t much good, many faked their medical qualifications, that’s why they are there.’

‘Well, ScoMo there may be a chance for Peter, despite the wishes of many in Heaven. Saint Kerryn of Phelps is proposing that those in Purgatory requiring medical attention can be transferred temporarily to Heaven for treatment.’

‘Hallelujah,’ cries ScoMo.

‘Not so fast ScoMo’ says Saint P, ‘there are those still trying to block that proposal on the grounds of security. Come back in a week and I’ll let you know the outcome.’

ScoMo returned the following week. ‘Bad news ScoMo’ says Saint P. ‘There are grave concerns that anyone who enters from Purgatory could find some lawyer in Heaven – yes remarkably there are a few here – who will prevent their return to Purgatory, and we would then open up Heaven to who knows what type of sinner.’

‘But all the rapists and murderers have gone straight to Hell’ says ScoMo.

‘Yes I know’ says Saint P ‘but you of all people know how it is, even the saintly are susceptible to fake news.’

‘So that’s it – no hope for Peter and the others’ sighs ScoMo.

‘Afraid not’ says Saint P.

‘So we just continue to wait, for who knows how long and hope for Judgement Day.’

‘Sorry – that’s how it is.’

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11 comments

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  1. Presser#1

    Nice!

  2. terence mills

    Excruciating isn’t it. I cannot imagine how these people must feel as their lives waste away.

    When he became PM Morrison said he was inclined to take up New Zealand’s long-standing offer to accept 150 refugees from Nauru and Manus Island each year on the condition that our Parliament passes a stalled bill that would ban any of those people ever coming to Australia (on holiday, for a business trip etc).

    New Zealand could not accept that condition as it would discriminate against people who ultimately achieved NZ citizenship and would represent treating some of their citizens as second class. For the same reason, the Australian parliament would not pass such a piece of legislation that arbitrarily discriminated against the citizens of another nation.

    But then yesterday Morrison said in New Zealand that he had hardened his stance against the New Zealand offer to resettle 150 refugees a year from Australian offshore detention, saying it was even less likely since the passing of the medivac laws.

    What is the connection between the medivac laws – which the coalition have largely torpedoed – and resettlement of refugees in New Zealand ?

    Some people see this as being tough but I see it as being stupid !

  3. Adrianne Haddow

    What a great story….. has it all.
    Consequences, justice, a morality which will escape our leaders.

  4. David Bruce

    The karma that this sorry saga is spewing out will make it more than unpleasant for their off-spring.

    It is like a cancer eating at the soul of the country and at some stage it will become malignant!

    Maybe after Brexit, the UK will take them so they can then migrate to Australia as British citizens?

  5. lawrence winder

    Nice fable… the pity is… heaven and hell don’t exist in another place.

  6. jamesss

    Robert, did they pass because of old age or revenge?

  7. Kronomex

    Will The Corminnator be able to save Scummo and The Spud when Judgement Day arrives in Purgatory? Here’s a thought: Rupert will be there as well and could start a toiletpape…oops,newspaper, and fill it full of crap to…nah, toiletpaper was the correct word…distract all the purgites there while the LNP try to tunnel their way out. And if they caught they’ll cry to heaven that, “IT’S ALL LABORS FAULT!”

  8. Jon Chesterson

    JUDGEMENT TIME – NO SHIT

    Morrison – “No worries Peter, Gabriel is sending us temporary visas”.

    Dutton – “No shit, wasn’t he a rock star?”.

    Morrison – “Good God, no Peter”.

    Dutton – “No shit okay then, temporary visas for us. How we going to keep everyone else out then?”.

    Morrison – “We won’t need to pick the locks and we won’t be turned back. Hell, there are no islands in heaven, just one big Liberal party. Did you know they have white coal up there. God I’d show you a piece and strike a match for eternal energy down here if I could, Peter”.

    Dutton – “No shit!”.

    Morrison – “No, white coal, Peter, and no sunburnt country, a kingdom of sweeping plains, a wide white country for you and me, Peter. No bloody questions asked, like where the hell did you come from?”

    Dutton – “No shit, no pretty islands for illegal migrants?”.

    Morrison – “No illegal migrants in heaven, Peter. God won’t have any of that. What the hell do you think we have been trying to do down here, Peter. Here on on God’s earth, Peter we are his tourist guides, his sales representatives here on earth”.

    Dutton – “No shit, no bush fires or dead fish, we’ll be able to feed the whole party, keep us safe for ever, manna from heaven, Prime Minister, manna from heaven” he says with an evil chuckle.

    Morrison – “No shit”.

    Dutton – “No shit, what about security, should we bring in some contractors to keep the mad frigging witches and African gangs out?”.

    Morrison – “OMG, Peter…”

    Dutton – “Yes Prime Minister… witches and African gangs?”.

    Morrison – “No visas for them Peter, no bloody visas for them, but I forgot about OMG Gladys”.

    Dutton – “No shit Prime Minister, you can’t be serious. I know she’s American, but we have a problem. Can’t we do a few Aussie white rock stars?

    Morrison – “Can’t think of any, Peter. But what is it with you and rock stars Peter? We had one in Parliament a few years ago, dead ringer he was, all oil no brains”.

    Dutton – “No shit, we need oil”.

    Morrison – “Messy business, Peter no dirty oil in heaven, Peter. God won’t allow dirty oil on his heavenly carpet”.

    Dutton – “No Shit”.

    Morrison – “No shit either Peter, not on God’s carpet”

    Dutton – “No shit, so who the bloody hell is Gladys?

    Morrison – “For God’s sake Peter, can you stop this no ‘shit business’. No shit in heaven, Peter, I keep telling you”.

    Dutton – “Really Prime Minister, you know very well that’s what I am best at, best in the world for, well… okay Trump’s got more money than me and he’s full of it”.

    Morrison – Smirk, snigger, giggle, “yep but don’t tell God that or he just might have Peter or Gabriel cancel your temporary visa, and I don’t think Trump is going to like you calling him a big shit”.

    Dutton – “No shit”

    Morrison – Waives a finger and a pretend piece of white coal around the Parliamentary chamber, nodding with a mocking grin “No shit Peter”

    Dutton – “You’re a bigger shit than I am Prime Minister”.

    Morrison – “I thought you’d never say that, Peter you must be getting the hang of it then, but this stays between you and me, Peter or I’ll have your visa cancelled”.

    Dutton – Scowls like a spud on a broomstick, scowl of an alley cat, brief pause, looks around and nods his slice of muzzle at the Speaker, question time is almost over, then whispers behind the back of his hand “So who’s this no shit Gladys woman?”

    Morrison – Glares around the chamber disapprovingly, “The Premier, Peter. OMG Gladys the Premier! Best you keep that mutton to yourself, we’ve got a Bill to shout down here”.

    Dutton – “No shit, what no visa or not really the Premier?”

    Morrison – “I thought you were on top of all this shit, Peter. Pay attention will you”.

    Duttton – “No shit Prime Minister” he says with an air of sarcasm and the curse of a little spit and venom.

    Morrison – “No shit” he sharply replies.

    Dutton – “No shit then” he jests.

    Morrison – “No shit” he contests like an over grown coal faced schoolboy.

    Dutton – No shit Dutton scowls once again at the Opposition front bench and adjusts his dag as he is called to answer the final question. He gets up, does up the button in the middle of his jacket, “Yes Mr Speaker, I have said this shit so many times before, but the members of the opposition, they just don’t listen, Mr Speaker. Fair dinkum, it is easier for a camel to live off its own dung, Mr Speaker than for Mr Shorten, Mr Speaker, for Mr Shorten who wishes he had the hard earned millions of people like me, Mr Speaker, the hard earned millions like me which no doubt if he had, Mr Speaker he would give it to the dead shits who want to enter illegally into our blessed sunburnt country, Mr Speaker. Our blessed country”.

    Morrison – Screams from his seat, “Yes Mr Speaker” clapping like a moron high on coal. “Yes Mr Speaker, and he’d hand the keys to heaven to them as well, if he had a visa of his own and a few camel trains to trade with”.

    Alas no-one really heard the end of that comment as the house had already broken into a roar of masonic laughter and hackle, and everyone in Parliament laughed any way. Those on the right who knew it was rude not to laugh when the Prime Minister opened his mouth and cracked a joke (visas also pending), and those on the left who laughed because they thought he had said something so stupid, a shit load from heaven might fall down in him and his mates.

    But that’s all we have time for on Question time in hallowed halls of Parliament House this afternoon, while I hand you back to some other little shit who will give us an analysis of what this means come judgement time.

    “Rupert… anyone seen Rupert?”

    “OMG Gladys then… Where the bloody hell is Gladys?”

    AB 2019

  9. Matters Not

    Whether it’s nature or nurture that determines behaviour (in the simplistic sense) has puzzled psychologists, sociologists, socio-biologists et al for generations. But it’s not a debate for Dutton, Morrission and fellow Neanderthals. No – it’s quite clear – criminality comes from where you’re born. In your genes apparently.

    That you might have lived in Australia for decades – went to school here, played all sorts of local games, married a dinki di Aussie sheila, had X number of kids, learnt both good and bad things, became an Aussie (or so you thought) – matters not when it comes to criminality. If you are judged to be a criminal of some odium then it’s because you were once a Kiwi. So back you must go. Across the ditch to the Land of the Long White Cloud. Yes you can leave the kids here and the wife but you with the Kiwi genes are persona non grata ..

    Yep – we are the white trash of Asia.

  10. ChristopherJ

    thank you, Jon; and Robert, although I don’t think so. Hell is a certainty for them both.

    And MN: nah, yeah, but we’re our white trash…

  11. John Lord

    Just wish we could get it over with.

    “To say that we are ambivalent about our politicians is an understatement. Now we are ashamed”

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