The Zoom Interviews
With Parliament suspended and many MPs in isolation (no, not the protection wing at Long Bay. Yet) there’s not been any coverage of how most of our government’s representatives are faring with no access to boozers, nudie bars, investment properties or other people’s water. What are they doing to justify their hefty, safe salaries; how do they while away the hours, what expenses are they rorting?
To find out our seasoned reporter Gnarley Gubbins, inspired by BroSco’s virtual PowerPoint prayer presentation set up a multi-party Zoom interview with those who were cleared as plausibly deniable by the L/NP’s corporate lawyer Lakov Morales from Trouser & Leggitt.
Following is the transcript. The muffled cries of grannies being suffocated with pillows have been edited out following legal threats.
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The participants in this first of The Zoom Interviews were:
Jowels Flubbiter, taking up most of the backbench and aspiring Minsiter For Foreign Affairs.
Aldo Fittler. Goonsquad Spudführer. Dog whistling champion, kitten tormentor.
Otto Binleiner. Once thought to have died in a Berlin bunker but later found to be hiding in Hobart, cataloguing his collection of Tony Abbott bicycle seats.
Roger Thystaff. From Best Retail Politician to the remainders bin at the Tamworth second hand bookshop. Frontman for the Weatherboard Nine jug band.
Mibrain Hertz. Federal work experience Treasurer whose readily recognisable facial features resemble those of a bank robber who’s stocking is too tight.
Bobbity McFucknuckle. Promoted to Tory deputy from his previous role as a nodding dog on the dashboard of the National Party ute.
Edna Bucket. Helmet-haired air raid siren, AFP pin-up and Minister For Workplace De-skilling and Employee Exploitation.
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Gnarley: Welcome all, and before we start, can I ask Jowels Flubbiter to cover his ankle bracelet with tin foil, the signal is generating interference. Yep, Jowels, use your hat, thanks.
We may as well start with you, Jowels. You’re well known for your largesse throughout the, um, let’s call them the “eclectic entertainment precincts” of S.E. Asia. Do you think your absence has affected their economies in what is the worst of circumstances?
Jowels: No doubt about it Gnarley. As you know I’ve spent a lot of time and money supporting the arts sector over there. It’s why they call me The Incredible Bulk. Given I can’t donate in person at the moment I’ve been throwing ping-pong balls at a schooner glass, with a GoFundMe page asking for a dollar for every time I score a ringer. $2 if it doesn’t touch the sides. I’ll be sending the money as soon as I can confirm its tax deductability.
Gnarley: Thanks, Jowels, that’s very big of you. Next, the Minister for Fear, Loathing and Scapegoating – Aldo Fittler. Aldo, you’ve been unusually quiet lately. Why is that?
Aldo: How did you find me?
Gnarley: You picked up your phone when I rang.
Aldo: Doh! I thought it might be that idiot Scotty wanting some more Hillsongers’ au pairs let off that bloody ship.
Otto Binleiner: Hi, Otto here. May I jump in?
Aldo: Otto! Shitty reception, mate; have you got the NBN down there in Tassie?
Otto: (Indignantly) I’m in your bunker. You said we’d see this out together.
Aldo: Take a pill, Otto. I’m in Brazil, an old farm house became available through connections. Pretty good internet they’ve got over here I must say. My guys at the airport let me through on the last flight out.
Roger Thystaff: Give it a rest, you blokes, we’re doing it tough up here in New England. The billy-lids are taking all my bog roll so I’ve had to resort to sliding down the banisters.
Gnarley: Errr … welcome, Roger. I think. Tell us, how have you been filling in your time?
Roger: Most mornings are the same. I get up at the crack of dawn and put my tooth in. But otherwise I’m running down my stockpile of VB and streaming PornHub. I miss my nights out in Fyshwick and the stress relief of a bit of rumpy-pumpy. So every night I jog a couple of laps around Che Barmy in wet flip-flops to keep the memories fresh.
Gnarley: Our Treasurer has been quite busy lately, so let’s cut to him. Mibrain Hertz, it’s been quite a leap for you with your adoption of Labor-like fiscal stimulus.
Mibrain: Not at all Gnarley. This has been the biggest challenge we’ve faced since Dunkirk. Shovelling money to our corporate pals under these new circumstances just needed some clever, new thinking. In lieu of wage theft employers are coming up with innovative ways to rort JobSeeker©, and corporations have used bail-out money to pay off staff leave on their balance sheets without having to touch their Cayman’s stashes and then still lay off their staff to be supported by Centrelink. Win-win!
Gnarley: Bobbity McFucknuckle, as Nationals leader (Roger snorts) you’re well practised in privatising profits and socialising losses. In a few words, what are your thoughts, if any?
Bobbity: (Nodding blankly) Yairs, Gnarley. A few billion thrown at those Middle Eastern owners of 72 Virgins Airlines will be money well-spent. We need to be able to fly in those Vanuatuan fruit pickers when this is all over and with none of that commie crap about taking equity thank you very much. You know Dickie Branson, the fella who looks like a disinterred Bee Gee? Well, Dickie was telling me that he thinks Wagga Wagga is an ideal location for a big, new Virgin Lounge.
I can see what you’re thinking, Roger and that’s not what he meant.
Gnarley: OoohKay then. On a related theme, the Minister For Employee Exploitation, Edna Bucket. Edna, you’d be thrilled at the huge new numbers of unemployed?
Edna: It’s wonderful, Gnarly. A big pool of desperate unemployed will provide the cheap labour needed to get our economy back on track.
Gnarley: What’s been your participation in the stimulus package?
Edna: Stimulus? (titter, giggle) Well, I slipped 350 large to that big hunk of spunk Scotty Scam to distract from our run down of trades education in favour of our mates in the … erm … ahhh … private training schemes (cough).
Gnarley: That got knocked in the head by the virus. What’s Scotty Scam doing now?
Edna: (Blushes) Well, I told Scotty that with time now on his hands, if he can sneak out he can come round to my place and check out my curtains.
Gnarley: Ahem, moving right along – Brunhilde Schotte-Gunn couldn’t join today’s session as she’s isolated in the dog house. Any thoughts on sports rorts?
Bobbity: As we move forward we’re looking forward, not at the behind.
SchMo’s been doing a great job. He’s assigned the Minister For Dead Native Grasslands, Forgetful Jones, to work with NSW Reichskommissar, Godfrey Strongarm to, as he calls it, “reconfigure the electronic records”. We want the L/NP legacy to be the virus and the fast tracking of disaster entrepeneurship rather than our generosity toward struggling polo stadiums. SchMo calls it New Horizon. That’s our marketing man, eh?
Gnarley: That seems like an appropriate note on which to end this session of The Zoom Interviews. Thank you all for your attendance.
Oh, and Roger – next time you might think about not facing your TV screen towards the camera.
This article was originally published on The Grumpy Geezer.
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Christensen’s marriage must have left a hole in the turnover of numerous Manila red light establishments, as well as improving Australia’s overseas debt.
These oxygen thieves do nothing period. None of them could work in an iron lung or, a barrel of yeast. The sad part is, my kids will have to keep most of these miserable low lifes for the rest of their miserable lives. Still with about half the population being as gullible as the day is long and as thick as two short planks, this situation will continue long after I have left this mortal coil. They laugh at us whilst, they laugh all the way to the bank. At least most lefties I know are on to them but, the ‘ Tory Toad’s ‘ think their representatives in parliament are working themselves to death, fingers to the bone. When you tell them that most of them are masturbating themselves into a lather in the parliamentary crappers all day, they look at you with disbelief. Yea, I’d love to be a fly on the wall in the parliamentary crapper, watching and listening to the secret liaisons, the squeals of delight. I’d like to know what Peter Dutton looks like in a pair of Lederhosen in an Oktoberfest hat and what kind of sound his tap shoes make on the tiles. I have an inquiring mind, I need to know these things.
It’s fascinating to see how different people are getting really creative with all that spare time that comes from lock down.
GG, I doffs me cap, you excelled yourself.. word perfect.
Thanks for the laugh GG. You are up there with Monty Python and someone else funny. Zoom’s been done before, remember Brady Bunch.
Grumpy, Your cast of characters brings to mind those in C. J. Dennis’ 1911 poem “The Martyred Democrat” – a satire on a meeting of the Toorak conservatives. Dennis introduces us to Lady Lusher, Miss Fibwell, Mr Grabbit MLC, Senator O’Sweatem, Percy Puttipate, Willie Dawdlerich and Mabel Bandersnitch. I suspect Dennis was subtly suggesting that that great party consisted of drunk, lying, greedy, exploitative, dumb, indolent members; a fine early example of the politics of envy.
A short extract may encourage further investigation:
“And likewise there, on couch and chair, with keen, attentive ears,
Sat many sons and daughters of our sturdy pioneers;
Seed of our noble squatter-lords, those democrats of old,
Who held of this fair land of ours as much as each can hold;
Whose motto is, and ever was, despite the traitor’s gab:
“Australia for Australians — as much as each can grab.”
Note: the poem was written during the first Labor government after federation, so the conservatives were in shock (a bit like Labor is now, and Dennis was putting in the boot)
CJDennis and contemporaries such as Henry Lawson and Banjo Patterson – you’ve motivated me to pull down a couple of those from the shelves and have a re-read.
We don’t have to stretch our imaginations to know where their political inclinations would lie these days.
(How tragic for the hard right nutters that all they’ve got as their inspiration is $.)
LambsFry, johno – cheers.
Here are some links to save you and others a bit of time.
The first three links are poems from “The Glugs of Gosh” a political satire on the stupidity of Australians, and in particular political conservatives, for trading raw materials for manufactured products.
The next link is to “The Martyred Democrat”
“The Moods of Ginger Mick” is an interesting sequel to “The Sentimental Bloke”, at that time the highest selling book in Australia.
Went straight to The Martyred Democrat. Thank you. Wonderful, wonderful stuff.
Have bookmarked each of these and will settle down with a tipple (post noon of course) to go through each.
Good on ya, cobber.
Cheers GG, some mental images that will linger for far too long….
Jowels with a mitt full of moist ping pong balls
Roger in wet flipflops keeping the memories fresh