The scams that have been exposed of politicians claiming money as ‘work expenses’ from the taxpayers for extravagant weddings (funerals) is just the tip of an iceberg. It reminds me of the ‘cash for comments’ scandals some time ago. Pigs in the troth comes to mind. Radio shock jocks were getting nice little earners by mentioning products casually along the way of the program. Ah, glorious democracy in full flight. Secret deals were stitched making millions for both the shock jocks and the product suppliers.
One wonders if the same is also happening going to weddings and funerals. Do people deliberately get married or die so Prime minister and others can initiate yet another scam? There might be rorts going on even when the retorts at the crematorium all over the world are slowly consuming dead friends and politicians. How do we know? Secret flights are made with mining magnates to Hyderabad and Vladivostok destinations. Wedding and Funerals. They melt together as long as politicians can claim costs. The limousines, the endless sushi bars, the pole dancing clubs all are thick with heaving politicians with their pates still covered in confetti or retort ash, sometimes both
Would it not be nice to hold funerals for dead governments. I can’t see we should not commemorate the death of a government, especially if that government was pretty crook to start of with.
I can see it all. A golden carriage being wheeled around our capital of Canberra. Inside a casket holding the remains of a very dead Government. The carriage wheels are newly gold embossed and drawn by six black horses whose manes are adorned by ostrich feathers and their tails by white Leghorns.
Behind the golden hearse and manacled together by chrome plated chains are the remnants of the dead Governmental officialdom. The ‘Stop the Boats’ contingent was led by a sombre Scott Morrison followed by Julie Bishop dressed in some kind of jumpsuit which had a flap with press studs at the back were her derriere still was pouting. A sorry procession steeped in a mien of dejection and desperation with the crowds six deep lining King’s Avenue. There was cheering with some jeering. Little black flags by the children pushed to the front waving frantically, some even enthusiastically. Police were busy holding back teenagers trying to hurl walnuts at Pyne and Greg Hunt with the miserable ‘reclaim the Carbon Tax’ all in a final death throe twitch.
Some people who wanted to get the best view of the funeral procession arrived the night before with sleeping bags and supplies of pre-cooked Brat Wurst and cold cabbage. Others had taken cricket chairs and women were seen knitting booties in keen anticipation of this funeral of a dead Government.
I can see it all.