We find ourselves in a Canberra pub, where a trio of be-suited men sit in consternation. All three are wearing hats indoors. One is sporting a cream akubra, and the other two wearing red caps with "I ♥ ALP" written on the front of them.
Katter: So here it is, gentlemen. Exactly what we've been holding out for. A pledge from Mr Abbott to firebomb Filipino banana crops into oblivion.
Oakeshott: *cough* ..... Yeah, ah .... sexy. Naughty.
Katter: And it doesn't stop there, either, gentlemen. Abbott's prepared to meet our demands on fishing and to give us all the ethanol we can drink.
Windsor (scratching his head): Yeah, about that Bob....
Katter (holding his hand up in a manner conotating 'just wait'): Lastly, though, me-lads.....the Piece de Resist-once...... who do you think will be setting the value of the Aussie dollar this time next year? I''l tell you who, lads: "Bob Katter!".
There follows a long pause as Bob allows the gravity of those last two words to settle in. Oakeshott and Windsor answer Katter's manic stare with a pair of vapid ones. Finally they are unable to meet his eyes at all, and each develop an intense interest in their drinks. Bob appears oblivious to this.
We now notice, as Katter pats him consolingly on the shoulder, a fourth figure at the table. How we failed to notice Kevin Rudd's1 existence up until this point appears mystifying to us, but fail we did.
Katter: I'm sorry, Kev.
Rudd (exhaling): That's O.K., I guess.
Katter: If it were you, buddy, I'd-a gone the other way. No question.
Rudd nods in the kind of endearingly pathetic way only Owen Wilson really can.
Katter: Now, gentlemen, we've got an adoring nation to talk to.
Windsor: Yeah.... we're right behind you, Bob.... we'll just finish these beers and meet you outside.
1Owen Wilson.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment