“We had this hysteria a few weeks ago when hundreds of police came swooping down on a few that were supposed to be heading towards wiping Australia of the map. There were photos of men with hands tied behind their backs, sitting on suburban nature strips surrounded by masked menacing looking men with guns handy.
Soon after jets were scrambling towards the middle East and the whole country petrified of swords and sounds of manic mid-night cackling by deranged Islamic fanatics. And since then? Niente, niks, rien, nothing, nichts.
The same as ever, queuing in traffic, gas-bills being paid, the cabbage in the fridge, the rattle of the Victa lawnmower at week-ends.
And now… this unholy cabinet united in involving us in yet another war”. Good sense has now taken leave with charlatans, foxtrotting generals, and palm readers in control.
It is now time to put on the sausages. There is nothing like taking stock, reflect on folly, indulge in purple prose, escape in flights of fancy and light the newest barbeque. We have bought one of those Mexican chimineas. A biscuit glazed clay bulbous pot on steel stand with embossed iguanas on the outside. Helvi and I, like true Mexican tribesmen used to, sit around and contemplate while baste the sausage, bung in the prawns, imbibe a Shiraz.
“Can you try not fall asleep when I am talking to you G, or, if you do, I’ll go upstairs to the putor”. “Sorry dear, I am just looking at the flames of the fire,”and relishing your latest post on suggesting putting a Burqa on Abbott, seeing all his decisions are now cloaked in secrecy.” ” I thought it was so apt.” “Don’t pull the flattering one on me, you’re eyes were closed.” “I know you so well.” ” So do I.” “I think the sausages are ready now, can you get the plates?” “Yes dear. Any tom sauce?” “No tom sauce for you G”, it is bad stuff.” “Is it? I am still here!” “Yes, you are telling me.” Sigh!
Domestic bliss around the clay iguana pot.
The silliness of the debate on burqas and Parliamentary security. I can just imagine the upcoming debate on fanatic Santas riding on reindeer, hiding their true faces. God knows what evil lurks behind those beards and red robes. How did they ever infiltrate our lovely sun-kissed country and culture. Did they sneak in on rickety boats? What are their evil aims and why have kiddies in their laps?
There is a lot there!