CLANCY OVERELL | Editor | CONTACT
While sitting at the bar of a discreet Canberra dive bar tonight, Prime Minister Scotty From Marketing is starting to feel himself sway from the light of God.
He never expected to face such temptation when he impulsively threw his hat in the ring for the 2019 Liberal leadership spill.
In fact, he never even thought about being Prime Minister before that day… But with Turnbull out of the way, he knew he had the numbers.
He knew that even the ‘progressive’ MPs in his party weren’t willing to stomach an uppity female Prime Minister in the shape of Julie Bishop. He also knew, as deranged as the right-faction of the party were after losing the plebiscite to the godless homosexuals, not enough of them were truly that fucked in the head to choose Dutton as their leader.
That’s the story he’s sticking to anyway. Sure, he might’ve actively undermined Malcolm, and yes, he definitely colluded with the Murdoch press to get the ball rolling. But it was for the greater good, he tells himself.
It was about securing a future for Australia’s forgotten people. The upper-middle class homeowners with a good enough education to understand the many tax loopholes relating to franking credits and negative gearing that were put in place by Peter Costello.
He understood that by gently pressing his husky torso up against organised religion, and violently pressing up against domestic sport, he would be able to keep just enough people onside to get him through at least one full term as Prime Minister. That’s a pretty good legacy in this day and age.
Rupert may have helped, yeah definitely. But it was for the greater good.
However tonight, he wonders how things have gotten this bad that he sits alone in a bar in Canberra, staring at a tap of mass produced beer. His usual shandy isn’t doing it for him, and he doesn’t think a Hahn Premium light will either.
With his beloved family pastor and close personal friend, Brian Houston, facing charges today for allegedly concealing his sex crimes within the Hillsong Church – Scotty knows his daggy dad brand has taken a knock.
His Protestant Lite family man brand is buckling under the pressure of his countless proven associations with conspiracists, alleged rapists, and now, alleged pedophile protectors.
This personal torment is compounded by the fact that Australia’s three biggest cities are in lockdown again tonight, after his bungled jab roll-out and reluctance to build federal quarantine has resulted in one of the worst post-pandemic economic recoveries in the world.
That’s why he’s staring at the full-strength beer. Maybe that rambling fool Barnaby has found peace in this temptation. Maybe he could too.
“Bartender” he grunts.
“I’ll have a, what do you call it.. A schooner of this one”
The bartender obliges.
“Wait!” says Scotty.
“What’s a seltzer? Maybe one of these mango things instead”
