The good politician shook his head as he left the party meeting. He didn’t know how much longer he could put up with it all. His constituents were starting to think he was like the rest of them. The meeting had started as it usually did. The few women of the inner circle were serving coffee and cutting the cake topped with “Team Australia’ in red, white and blue. When they started chanting “Team Australia! Team Australia!” he slipped out to the loo. There’s only so much a man can take.
Sunlight shone through the ears of Team Australia’s captain, lighting them up like a Christmas tree. So desperate was the good politician for a distraction, he spent much of the meeting staring at the pink tips half expecting them to produce strobe lighting on the table. The meeting droned on as usual – rah, rah – stick together – rah, rah – always find someone else to blame – rah, rah – just keep repeating yourself because they will believe you eventually – rah, rah – have your tag team partner ready to go – rah, rah. You know when you say something stupid and your tag team partner comes to the rescue taking on all media appearances while you discretely disappear, to come back only when the fracas blows over.
The good politician had to admit, the party had reached new heights of innovation. When the team captain asked “Do we have our community advisory panel here?” and his advisor pointed to the old man in the wheelchair with the white cane, dark glasses and the urine bag strapped to his leg, all heads turned. “Can you hear us Fred?…Fred!” No response. She pinched him. “Fred”. The old man yelped. “Ok we’re ready to go now Captain.” Needless to say the old man had no objections to cuts to aged care, raising the pension age, making older people use the equity in their homes, cuts to disability services and income support, cuts to homeless services, employment, childcare, health, education – well cuts to any welfare really – at least the ‘visible’ welfare for those who need it. “Let them eat cake” became “Let them have charity”. The good politician thought the old man might have died somewhere between “blame the bludgers” and the reading of requests from the privileged and other lobbyists, but he stirred when it came to foreign affairs and gaining mileage from islamophobia. It turned out to be some minor, digestive discomfort. The room was cleared while the air dispersed and it was safe to return. As usual, the meeting ended with the pledge.
I pledge my loyalty to Team Australia and to making profit for myself and my friends at all costs.
Welfare does not exist. Let the foreign, the stateless, poor and disadvantaged feel the consequences of their laziness.
I will never admit fault, especially a lie. I will always blame someone else.
Women know thy place.
Climate change will not bother me. I will always pay tribute to the investors who are, as we speak, building our gated communities on higher ground.
I will always be photographed with ultra conservative politicians overseas or children or babies.
I pledge to follow our leader, no matter how ridiculous.
Hail Team Australia. Hail Team Australia.Hail Team Australia!
The good politician sighed. “Driver take me home.”