Thursday, 26 May 2011


"Would they have the balls?" wondered Councillor Skye Lovelady as she cycled steadily down Mulgrave Road towards the direction of the Cairns central business district.

The relevations by the wives of two of the Councillors had shaken her. She thought back to the dramatic and terrifying image of the chipmunk like Maria Bomboniere, and the violent flash-point she had witnessed earlier in Maria's living room. She suddenly had a mental image of the diminuitive Maria Bomboniere carrying out her impassioned threat to "kick Cush's balls up to his throat!" Maria's face had changed to that of a feral, rabid chihuahua. Skye had almost had a spontaneous dump in her pants. The thought made her laugh so hard, she almost fell off her bike.

But would both Dom Piper and Enzo Bomboniere have the guts to resign from Colonel Cush's Conservative Party Team, she wondered. Both were good men, she intuited, but both weak and easily intimidated. She thought back to when Dom Piper had climbed up on the temporary dias in front of the crowd protesting the mass killng of the flying fox roost. He had extended his hand to display solidarity with Councillors Mingin, Bomboniere and herself, but as she grabbed his hand, she could see he was trembling with his own audacity.

They had good, strong supportive wives, she reasoned. Maybe, just maybe the wives could persuade them to leave the corrupt clutches of Cush and his cronies. She had hopes that maybe, maybe there would be enough of them to stop the sociopath from continuing his path of destruction on the city.


Brandi Cush dressed, as usual, in several hours, at the end of which, she was quite satisfied as she looked steadily at herself in the large bedroom mirrors. "Not bad, even though I say it myself," she preened, looking at the new yellow cotton skirt and matching jacket and noting how it brought out the best of her new dark red hair.

She had bought several new outfits in Melbourne during her short visist there, and she thought with pleasure of how she would model them for the hungry pages of the womens' section of the local "Cairns Post" newspaper. She could see the banner , "Our classy First Lady Shows her Style." She just knew the women journos would love the "new" Brandi.

Grabbing her matching clutch, she left the apartment for the luncheon date with the female journalists from "The Cairns Post".

"Darrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrling!" squealed the first female journalist, a middle aged dark haired woman, as Brandi walked into the restaurant.

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee," squealed her sidekick, a younger, heavily made up woman whose heavily drawn kohl lines around her eyes made her look like a sick raccoon.

"Aaaaaaaaah," squealed back Brandi in her highest pitch, as all three ran towards each other, tottering and mincing in high heeled shoes.

All three women met somewhere just inside the front entrance, and oblivious to the astonishment of the other diners, proceeded to all squeal at once in shrill shrieks.

"Mwah, mwah," squealed the first one, motioning her head forward to mimic kissing Brandi's cheeks.

"Mwah, mwah, aaaaaaaaah," squealed the second, also motioning with her head but pursing out her lips and making a delicate smacking sound.
"Oh you look divIIIIIIIIIIINe, so divIIIIIIIIIIINe, doesn't she Magenta!" squealed the older woman.
"GorGEOUS, just utterly gorGEOUS, I love it, I LOVE IT," squealed back the younger woman, Magenta.

Brandi flushed with pleasure. It was always so nice to meet with real friends who were always so honest and upfront with their opinions!

As they finally sat down together, Magenta leaned forward and asked, "And how does the Colonel like the new Brandi?"

Brandi didn't skip a beat. "Oooooh, he loves it, he just loves it! I was just so amazed at his response!" she lied, injecting as much enthusiasm and exaggerated sense of wonder into it, as she could. "He actually said I looked a lot like the young Priscilla Presley!" she added, for more effect.

Magenta dropped her mouth and shook her head. "You're so LUCKY, soooooo LUCKY Brandi to have a man like that. He is so, so, so.........."

The older female journalist broke in, interrupting Magenta's inability to find appropriate words to describe the husband of Brandi Cush. "He's so WONDERFUL, a really really gorgeous, gorgeous man, he really is."

"Oh he really really is," agreed the lost-for-words Magenta.

"He's such a MASTERFUL man, don't you think," said the older female journalist, picking up the menu. "I mean he just goes ahead and does what he says. None of this dreadful going back and fro and procrastinating over anything. He just goes and DOES it. I mean, it's really what Cairns has needed for a long time."

Magenta rolled her kohl encircled eyes, briefly looking like an extraterrestrial extra from the set of a sci-fi movie. "Remember the last Mayor and all that dreadful, I mean, DREADFUL carrying ons about a silly Cultural Precinct for Cairns? I mean, we all laughed and laughed.....How silly was she? I mean, "culture" for the people of Cairns? And then she had the sheer idiocy to ask the people of Cairns to contribute their ideas to the design of the buildings as well."

"Exactly," broke in the older woman. "Can you remember her hair........."

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" squealed Magenta, rolling her eyes around again.
"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeewwwwww!" squealed Brandi.
"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" squealed the older woman journalist.

Magenta shuddered. "How anyone could take a woman with hair like that seriously, is just beyond me!"

"Grey haired Aunty Val!," laughed the older woman journalist. "I thought that description was so perfect and did you see how it stuck. The silly bitch couldn't shake it off, no matter how hard she tried!."

Brandi jumped in. She hadn't been able to contribute anything intelligent so far, as the other two women had commandeered the conversation. "Ohh, I agree, I agree," she said genially, "so many older women are just you know so much like our Auntys and things, they should all just go home and start knitting or something! And let the men do all the work."

There was a sudden chill in the conversation and for a moment Brandi wondered if she had said anything wrong. She turned on her most engaging and winning smile, an act which always made her throat hurt, but it always worked.

The older woman shot a sharp eye up at Brandi who looked guileless sitting there with her dazzling smile.

"I've bought a whole new wardrobe of clothes in Melbourne," Brandi announced gleefully.

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" shrilled the older woman, "You haven't!"
"Eeeeeeeeeeee!" shrieked Magenta, "I wanna see them, I wanna see them..."

Brandi looked pleased. "Well, if you like I can model them for you for the Weekend Magazine."

The two women journalists were suddenly quiet.

Finally, the older woman spoke. "We can't do that Brandi, well not for a while. We have our pages already planned for the next several weeks....."

Brandi looked startled. "Wha....what?" she stammered.

There was another awkward silence as Brandi looked from one journalist to the other.

"We are doing a series on the actress, Rhianna Silvers, you know, the one who was in all the soapies who married Reg Silvers, the billionaire..." replied Magenta.

Brandi's mouth fell open in shock.

"Such a gorgeous, gorgeous chicky," said the older woman journalist.

"She's just the most drop-dead gorgeous babe in Cairns," said Magenta carelessly. "And she has such a stunning array of jewellery which Reg has brought her, like you WOULDN'T believe..."

"and a brand new silver Mercedes SLR, about hall a mill. worth," gushed the other older woman.
"I mean, Reg GAVE her the Mercedes just as a gift, mind. I mean, half a mill. in a car, just as a little gift!"

Magenta sighed heavily. "Reg Silver is just soooooooooo, sooooooooo DYNAMIC! What a man!"

Brandi sat in frozen silence. She wanted to scream. She wanted to pour the water bottle right over the heads of the two journalists. She, Brandi Cush was the most beautiful, drop-dead gorgeous chicky-babe in Cairns! Frozen as her mind was, Brandi knew she had to put her plan into action as soon as she could.

Later, Brandi could not recall how she managed to get through the luncheon meeting. She knew she toyed with her chicken caesar salad, and drank a glass of mineral water. She also recalled saying "goodbye" to the two journalists by "mwahing" several times on the sidewalk. After that, she recalled nothing until she sat at her computer back in the apartment.


Joyce Cush cycled cheerfully towards the Salvation Army Secondhand Store not far from where she lived in the suburb of Mundingburra.

She had been invited to a dinner party, being hosted by one of the parents on the P. & C. of the Mundingburra State School, and she literally had nothing suitable to wear.

Since becoming poor after the divorce in which Cush and his lawyer had left her with almost nothing, Joyce had discovered the joys of "Op Shopping", visiting the various secondhand and opportunity shops in Towsnville, to buy extra clothing, or those necessary bits and pieces she required for her kitchen. Joyce had never ever known before, the treasures a person could find in an opportunity shop and she was just AMAZED after her first experience.

Not only that, but her constant forays down to the Salvation Army Secondhand Store had resulted in her getting to know the women who worked there, and also being offered some part time volunteer work there as well. Joyce loved it! Sorting out clothing, books, bric a brac, kitchen goods and old furniture, washing and ironing the clothes, and pricing them and hanging them on the racks. She enjoyed working with the women there, and had made so many friends from the shoppers who came into the shop.

"Being poor wasn't so bad," she thought, as she cycled along. She had had to find where the cheapest food was, where the best bargains were, how to reduce her electricity bill. She had joined the local library, and spent many hours in there using the internet for free. She also had discovered a whole range of free concerts in the city were held throughout the year.

She was well off, she thought calmly. She had her very small duplex, all the furniture she needed to live comfortably and a small sum of money set aside for emergencies. She had more than a lot of other people, and she was determined to make the most of what she had.

To be continued..............................


  1. Hooray, I wondered where you had gotten to. You've slowed down a bit I see.

  2. I have responded to feedback from two of my readers who have requested I slow down my postings, so that they have time to read them.

  3. Liz, your dedicated reader!27 May 2011 at 03:06

    I've seen women carry on like that in public, like screeching cockatoos. And they speak exactly the way you have written it too, using the word "really" several times, as if to try and confer sincerity, but the reptition confers the opposite meaning! And all the silly "mwah" "mwah" bizzo, uggggggh! The two women "journalists"? are female crows, only interested in Brandi for pickings.

  4. The latest social craze in Cairns is to "do a coffee" with the myriad of types of coffee available, rather than to "do lunch". I agree with Liza above however, you have captured the silly attention seeking dramatics of some women in public, perfectly.

  5. Interesting to see the contrast in lfestyle between Joyce and Brandi. There are many older women around like Joyce today, just dumped and left to fight for their share of the marriage wealth. Joyce obviously didn't know how to fight for her share during the divorce. Brandi on the other hand is living an extravagant lifestyle, using in fact the money which would have kept both Cush and Joyce comfortable in their old age.

  6. Thanks readers. Just bear in mind, this is a satire and not some deep sociological analysis.