Cush was unable to reach his new Councillor, Bud Yarrow, on the Monday morning following the by-election. He had tried his mobile phone several times, but was diverted to leaving messages.
He had phoned Bud's wife Mia who had replied that she last saw Bud late on Saturday night in close conversation with two well built men in grey suits.
Cush tried to recall who "two well built men in grey suits" might have been, but he thought he might have been too pissed to remember anything much after 10.00PM that night. How he got home to his unit on the Cairns Esplanade, he had no fucken idea.
There were a few items he wanted to talk over with Yarrow. Firstly, Horsey's son-in-law in Hong Kong had found a Chinese buyer for the pristine rainforest land behind Whitfield which the previous Council had bought. The Chinese Corporation wanted to build a 2,000 room executive training and holiday complex there and were prepared to pay big money. Cush and Horsey estimated they would be able to make at least two mill. each from the sale. There were some blocks also identified on the slopes behind Earlville which were just too good to sit there growing grass for skippys. Lastly, Cush's own efforts at pitching the sale of the Munro Martin Park grounds to the Pentagon for development of a US Marines Rest and Recreation Hotel were paying off. The Pentagon was definitely interested.
Cush tried phoning Horsey to see if he knew where Yarrow might be.
"No fucken idea mate," Horsey replied. "Last time I saw him, he was talking to some Canberra looking types in grey suits."
Cush gave up and contented himself for the moment in reading "The Cairns Post". He and Brandi were again at their favorite sidewalk restaurant on the Cairns Esplanade, waiting for their usual breakfasts. Cush had ordered his plate of bacon, fried eggs, toast and a pot of coffee. Brandi had ordered a piece of fruit and fruit juice.
He grunted with satisfaction as he saw a large photo of Bud Yarrow, Horsey and himself on the front page with the following banner headlines:-
"CUSH DOES IT AGAIN!"
Electors in Division 2 gave an over-whelming vote of confidence in the leadership of Colonel Ken Cush in Saturday's by-election.
"Bloody good reporting," he growled, as he flung the newspaper across to Brandi who made a
pretense of reading the leading story.
Worriedly, Cush pondered where the fuck was Yarrow?
.......................................................................................
The radio shock jock was ecstatic and had the voice of someone who has just been told he's won the Gold Lotto. He headed off his talk-back radio show that morning with the results of the Division 2 by-election.
"Wasn't that just what we all expected on Saturday?" he gloated. "I mean we all knew Cush's man had to get in as there really wasn't much competition from any other quarter. You know, I mean, trying to compare, trying to compare a man with the credentials, talents, skills, experience and sheer humanity of Bud Yarrow to a , well, to a so called man of the cloth who as we all know has some failings as a human being, plus being associated with a communist type party. I mean, would he take his orders from Moscow or some place? Then, we had the other candidate, I mean, certainly he had some interesting ideas, but I don't think the voters were impressed with a man who paints his face yellow."
The first caller, was the radio talk-back shows' regular, "Reg of Redlynch".
"Ohhh mate, mate," said Reg, "the people in Division 2, they know where their bread is buttered, too bloody right mate. They all know a really good man when they see one. They've done the right thing too bloody right they have, in voting for Mr. Yarrow. He's a really good, fine bloke."
" Reg, Reg," broke in the shock jock, "if they only knew Bud Yarrow like I know him. I mean he's just the best type of bloke you would ever hope to meet, and I am sincere about that. He is just the type of person Cairns needs, believe me!"
The next caller was Marva, another regular on the talk-back show. "I was so pleased this nice Mr Yarrow won on Saturday," she said. "I was so frightened they would have put the communist man in the Council, but they had the brains not to. He seems a really really nice man this Mr Yarrow."
"Yes Marva," replied the shock-jock. "The voters had the good sense and intelligence to vote in the right man. As I keep on saying over and over, Bud Yarrow is a really top bloke, the sort you would all be glad to have as your best mate...".
The next caller was Wayne from Bayview Heights.
"Aaaaay mate," said Wayne, "have you heard the newsflash on the Australian Broadcasting
Corporation yet?"
Something in Wayne's voice made the shock jock wary. "No, why?" he asked.
"I reckon mate, you orter go and listen to what they're saying about your best mate Bud Yarrow, before you spruik any more wankers bullshit," Wayne shouted before slamming his phone down.
The shock jock was shaken by Wayne's outburst, and hurriedly turned his program to music while
he sought the ABC's station. He didn't have to wait too long, before the newsflash was repeated.
"The Prime Minister of Australia Malcolm Turnbull this morning announced that an Australian man has been extradited to Indonesia on the request of both the Indonesian and Vietnam Governments for an urgent trial in Indonesia. The Prime Minister said the man, who has been identified as a leading Australian businessmen, is Mr Bud Yarrow currently living in Cairns. Mr. Yarrow has a group of business interests in both Vietnam and Bali. The Prime Minister said Mr Yarrow will face charges of multiple murder in Indonesia. The Prime Minister is to give further details at a Ministerial conference this evening."
The shock jock did not reappear on his talk-back program for the rest of the morning.
..............................................................
Dougie Dunnysmore sat reading "The Cairns Post" at his dining room table, in his modest unit
at Bentley Park. He had sprayed himself with magnesium oil and taken a couple of tablespoons of organic flaxseed oil which had only given him an acute case of the squirts, but he still felt a little better. Pedro had given him some ganga the evening before which he suspected may have had some ordure in it. Whatever, it had made him feel very queasy.
Dully, he read the lead story in "The Cairns Post" staring at the photograph of the Mayor, Colonel Ken Cush, Bud Yarrow and the Depty Mayor, Bob Horseman first, then reading through the Editor's text.
"Bud Yarrow is a decent, generous man with scruples and integrity." Dunnysmore read the words and repeated them to himself as the radio announcer interrupted the mornings program on the local ABC station with a newsflash.
For a few seconds, Dunnysmore thought he was still monged out from the bad ganga, until the words of the newsflash hit a home run. Bud Yarrow who had beaten him in Saturday's by-election had been extradited to Indonesia to face charges of multiple murder!
It struck him as funny. Really funny. He laughed, a high pitched laugh not unlike the Bee Gees singing their highest pitch together. He wondered if the Indonesians would give Yarrow a good bloody public flogging before they took him out and shot him.
..................................................................
The Reverend Matthew Harmon heard the ABC newsflash as he was driving his Mum to the
Senior Citizens Centre in Gatton Street in Cairns. He had to pull the car over to the side of
Mulgrave Road and listen.
"What does it mean Mattie?" asked his Mother at the end of the newsflash.
The Reverend's face had turned pale. "Mum, if Yarrow is charged, then he is automatically disqualified from holding office in the Council. That is the law in this country."
"Then the Councillor for Division 2 would be the person who had the next highest number of votes which is you," said Betty Harmon, with a smile.
The Reverend frowned as he drove the car back onto Mulgrave Road. "Yes Mum, however I no longer want to go into the Council. I won't put my family through all that ever again."
Mrs. Harmon sighed. "It's your decision son."
...........................................
When Cush heard the ABC newsflash, he was irate. Angrily he phoned Horsey demanding to know which fucker in the Party had recommended Bud Yarrow stand as a candidate for Division 2.
Horsey thought only for a few short seconds. He knew as well as Cush, that Cush had personally chosen Bud Yarrow himself from a list of no less than fifteen Party hopefuls. However, this was serious shit and somebody had to take the fall. "It was the Cairns Branch Secretary herself,"
Horsey lied, making it up as he talked. "Ms Brooklyn Taylor-Downs. I recall her distinctly telling me she thought he was the best candidate we had and so we both trusted her judgement, if you recall."
"Fucken women!" Cush roared down the phone. "We must have been bloody out of our heads if we listened to her." "Oh, it was at Bob Hooper's funeral, if you remember," broke in Horsey. "When we were both at our lowest ebb, grieving for a good mate."
Cush agreed. "Oh hell yeah," he roared back. "We were at our lowest ebb, too fucken right we were, and then this idiotic knowitall little bitch passes this Yarrow over to us like a fucken Christmas present. Jesus bloody Christ mate, we're gonna end up with that happy clappin bloody Jesus lovin' do gooder bloody pinko after all! Get rid of her! I don't want to see her silly woofwoof face ever again."
"Count it done," Horsey replied. He would ensure there was enough drama and noise in the Party that no-one would be in any doubt that Ms Taylor-Downs had personally recommended Bud Yarrow to the Mayor at Bill Hooper's funeral. However, like Cush, he dreaded the appearance of the Reverend Matthew Harmon in the Council. He had no doubts that the Reverend would join the bloc of Councillors containing Lovelady, Mingin, Bomboniere and Piper who were now attempting to undermine Cush in the Council. They had too much at stake, he and Cush and they wouldn't cop a happy clappin do-gooder getting in their way.
...................................................
The Editor at "The Cairns Post" heard the newsflash from the ABC via a friend who SMS texted the news. He phoned Cush, and listened as Cush ranted how Yarrow had been recommended in the highest terms by the Secretary of the Cairns Conservative Party. "She got to us when we were at our lowest, mate," Cush repeated Horsey's words, "when we were bloody burying poor old Bill Hooper."
The Editor had no qualms in entering into the conspiracy. "Gosh, yes," he agreed, raising his voice a pitch as if to confirm recall, "That's right. I remember her telling me too what a great bloke Yarrow is at Hoopers funeral. I had clean forgotten!"
To be continued...............................
Friday, 29 July 2011
Monday, 25 July 2011
THE SKY PILOT FROM BENTLEY PARK - PART 6
THE BY-ELECTION VOTING RESULTS FOR DIVISION 2
YARROW, B.J. (CONS.) 5,434
DUNNYSMORE, T.D. (IND) 2,054
HARMON, REV. M.J. (SWP) 4,713
INF. 219
The Reverend Matthew Harmon knew from the results sent via SMS text from the Cairns Secretary of the Socialist Workers Party that it was all over. His scrutineers had advised the preferences from Dunnysmore were running two to one in favour of Yarrow. The Returning Officer had told him
earlier in the day that there were also approximately 300 Postal Votes.
It wasn't the excited backyard bar-b-que he had envisaged, in the grounds of the Community Baptist Church. Up until the week before the by-election he had fully expected to reduce Cush's influence over the city of Cairns. All the online polls had predicted an easy victory for him
particularly since he had a national profile in leading the public opposition to Australia's participation in the war in Afghanistan. Then had come the Editorial in the local newspaper, The Cairns Post which had hinted that he was a frequent patron of the sleazy strip club, The Red Plum and consorted with strippers. This had been taken up with gloating enthusiasm by the local shock
jock who along with his talk-back contributors had bloated the lie out into astonishing
proportions.
Glumly, silently, he passed his mobile phone to his wife Amber who closed her eyes and
shook her head with disbelief before then passing the phone onto the 60 Minutes journalist who had brought his crew to the Church bar-b-que while waiting for the results.
"We're very sorry mate," said the journalist who had trailled behind the Reverend all day, watching inteviewing and filming the by-election. The journalist's brief had been to follow up with a story on the election of the "Sky Pilot from Cairns" to the Cairns Regional Council. Everyone on the
60 Minutes team had expected the Reverend to win.
The Reverend could only nod. He didn't feel much like talking. However he knew he had to thank his parents, the party officials and members of his congregation who had all volunteered to work for him. With an effort, he shrugged off the bitterness he was feeling. It could wait until he was alone.
"Cush's Conservative Party are holding a Black Tie Celebratory Ball in the CBD at one of the
hotels there," he told the 60 minutes journalist. "You would find Bud Yarrow there, if you
need to interview him."
Someone from the Party told the journalist which hotel is was, and the 60 Minutes crew soon
left.
......................................
Troy (Dougie, because he hated his first name!) Douglas Dunnysmore was almost catatonic with
shock. He sat motionless, scarcely breathing at the dining room table in his unit. How could
his astrology charts be wrong! He had gone over them again and again and each time they
had predicted he would be the winner! Never, never had his charts been wrong before!
He had endured, yes ENDURED such a shit of a day! He had to put a mask on. There were so
many people coming through the gates of the Bentley Park State School where he stood to hand out his "How to Vote" cards. And so many of them coughed, and sneezed, and blew their disgusting
noses right in front of him. Then there were the rugrats, scores and scores of them, all with
wet sticky faces and hands. And they were cheeky little trolls too. "Mummy look at that funny mans with the yellow face!" one of them called out while another little bastard said, "Is that man from the Harry Potter movie?"
Then that creepy arsehole representing Colonel Cush's team came by and shook his hand.
"Hello, I'm Bud Yarrow, nice to meet you!" the creep had said lightly shaking his hand, then
holding his hand up and grimacing in distaste.
Well now the creep was the Councillor for Division 2. Dougie Dunnysmore hoped the voters in Division 2 were all happy with themselves. They had the opportunity to vote in the BEST
man, but they blew it. They blew it big time. Serves the fools right!
After that thought, he felt alive enough to think a cone would go down well. He needed something to help him relax.
.........................................................................
Bartholomew (Bud) Yarrow, newly elected Councillor for Division 2 of the Cairns Regional Council admired himself in the full length mirror of the ensuite in his plush hotel room. He was wearing a full tux, which made him look elegant he thought.
He would enjoy the evening. Having everyone say nice little pleasantries about him, having the
women all hug him and push their breasts against him, and generally being the centre of attention all evening. He didn't mind being the centre of attention.
Taking one last swallow of a glass of champagne, he left the hotel suite and took the lift
down to the basement where his chauffeur waited. As his lift descended, the adjoining lift
stopped at the floor of his hotel room. Three physically fit men, dressed in almost identical
grey suits stepped out and strode to his door and knocked.
After a few minutes knocking, they twigged. "Shit, we've missed him! He must have just
left to go to the party!" one said. Quickly the three Australian Federal Police Officers
took the lift back to the ground floor.
..............................................................................
The party was in full swing at the Esplanade hotel, where the Conservative Party were
holding their Celebratory Black Tie Ball. Cush was in fine form, throwing down glasses of
merlot, cracking jokes and keeping an eye out for the man of the moment, Bartholomew (Bud)
Yarrow, Councillor for Division 2, to arrive for his moment of glory.
Yarrow's wife Mia had arrived earlier by herself in a long limousine. She had told Cush that
her husband was caught up with a couple of phone calls, and would soon follow her to the
function. That had been over twenty minutes ago, and there was still no sign of the new
Councillor.
Cush noted that there were several television news crews in the room, waiting for the man
of the hour, as well.
Suddenly there was a shout and the MAN himself was walking in through the door. With one
accord, all those present gave out a mighty cheer. "The conquering hero!" shouted the local
radio shock jock who was Master of Ceremonies for the evening. There were more cheers, congratulatory slaps on the back, hands shaken, women hugged and kissed as the Councillor for Division 2 made his way slowly through the crowd to the stage where the M.C. waited for him with a huge smile on his face.
Sitting at a table was the Editor of The Cairns Post who was busily writing Monday's lead story for The Cairns Post on the by-election.
"CUSH DOES IT AGAIN!" he wrote. "Electors in Division 2 gave an overwhelming vote of confidence in the leadership of Colonel Ken Cush in Saturday's by-election. Bud Yarrow, the successful business entrepreneur who is engaged in the medical tourist industry in Vietnam and who owns several backpacker establishments in Bali, received a solid vote of approval from the 12,800 electors. It was the right choice as Bud Yarrow's credentials are exemplary. He is a successful businessman, he knows the tourist industry, he has solid links to Asia and the booming economies there, and as anyone knows, Bud Yarrow is a decent, generous man with scruples and integrity, well liked and admired by many. He will live up to the expectations of voters."
The Editor read it through a second time, and sent the story off via email. It was all done and he was happy with it. He sat there at his table, drinking a glass of wine and smiling. He had helped with this victory. He hoped Yarrow would remember who his friends were.
"Come up here buddy!" roared the M.C. radio shock jock, as Yarrow battled his way through
the surging crowd of well wishers, and made it to the stage.
No-one noticed as three well built men, all dressed in similar grey suits walked into the
ball-room and carefully positioned themselves to the side of the stage.
As Yarrow climbed the stairs to the stage, the radio shock jock grabbed him in a tight bear-hug.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he roared, "I love this man, and I don't care who knows it!"
The three men stared. There was no doubting who they were looking at. They had seen
close ups of him in a video taken on a mobile phone by a very courageous young Balinese boy.
Bartholomew Josiah Yarrow was the Monster of Denpasar.
The radio shock jock continued his spiel. "I've known this man for many years, and I have to
tell you all, he is just the best, and I mean, the best type of person you could ever wish to
meet...."
"Fucking hell!" muttered one of the Australian Federal Police officers. "What have we got here?"
"Bud Yarrow is one of the most generous, community spirited and decent men I have
had the pleasure to know," continued the shock jock, warming to his subject and his voice.
"If you ask him for the shirt off his back, he'll give it to you..........."
"Ooooh, isn't he just gorgeous!" simpered a voice close to the A.F.P. officers. They all spun
around to see a middle aged woman staring at Bud Yarrow.
"Ooooh, he's just divine, he really is," gushed her friend beside her.
To be continued.................................
YARROW, B.J. (CONS.) 5,434
DUNNYSMORE, T.D. (IND) 2,054
HARMON, REV. M.J. (SWP) 4,713
INF. 219
The Reverend Matthew Harmon knew from the results sent via SMS text from the Cairns Secretary of the Socialist Workers Party that it was all over. His scrutineers had advised the preferences from Dunnysmore were running two to one in favour of Yarrow. The Returning Officer had told him
earlier in the day that there were also approximately 300 Postal Votes.
It wasn't the excited backyard bar-b-que he had envisaged, in the grounds of the Community Baptist Church. Up until the week before the by-election he had fully expected to reduce Cush's influence over the city of Cairns. All the online polls had predicted an easy victory for him
particularly since he had a national profile in leading the public opposition to Australia's participation in the war in Afghanistan. Then had come the Editorial in the local newspaper, The Cairns Post which had hinted that he was a frequent patron of the sleazy strip club, The Red Plum and consorted with strippers. This had been taken up with gloating enthusiasm by the local shock
jock who along with his talk-back contributors had bloated the lie out into astonishing
proportions.
Glumly, silently, he passed his mobile phone to his wife Amber who closed her eyes and
shook her head with disbelief before then passing the phone onto the 60 Minutes journalist who had brought his crew to the Church bar-b-que while waiting for the results.
"We're very sorry mate," said the journalist who had trailled behind the Reverend all day, watching inteviewing and filming the by-election. The journalist's brief had been to follow up with a story on the election of the "Sky Pilot from Cairns" to the Cairns Regional Council. Everyone on the
60 Minutes team had expected the Reverend to win.
The Reverend could only nod. He didn't feel much like talking. However he knew he had to thank his parents, the party officials and members of his congregation who had all volunteered to work for him. With an effort, he shrugged off the bitterness he was feeling. It could wait until he was alone.
"Cush's Conservative Party are holding a Black Tie Celebratory Ball in the CBD at one of the
hotels there," he told the 60 minutes journalist. "You would find Bud Yarrow there, if you
need to interview him."
Someone from the Party told the journalist which hotel is was, and the 60 Minutes crew soon
left.
......................................
Troy (Dougie, because he hated his first name!) Douglas Dunnysmore was almost catatonic with
shock. He sat motionless, scarcely breathing at the dining room table in his unit. How could
his astrology charts be wrong! He had gone over them again and again and each time they
had predicted he would be the winner! Never, never had his charts been wrong before!
He had endured, yes ENDURED such a shit of a day! He had to put a mask on. There were so
many people coming through the gates of the Bentley Park State School where he stood to hand out his "How to Vote" cards. And so many of them coughed, and sneezed, and blew their disgusting
noses right in front of him. Then there were the rugrats, scores and scores of them, all with
wet sticky faces and hands. And they were cheeky little trolls too. "Mummy look at that funny mans with the yellow face!" one of them called out while another little bastard said, "Is that man from the Harry Potter movie?"
Then that creepy arsehole representing Colonel Cush's team came by and shook his hand.
"Hello, I'm Bud Yarrow, nice to meet you!" the creep had said lightly shaking his hand, then
holding his hand up and grimacing in distaste.
Well now the creep was the Councillor for Division 2. Dougie Dunnysmore hoped the voters in Division 2 were all happy with themselves. They had the opportunity to vote in the BEST
man, but they blew it. They blew it big time. Serves the fools right!
After that thought, he felt alive enough to think a cone would go down well. He needed something to help him relax.
.........................................................................
Bartholomew (Bud) Yarrow, newly elected Councillor for Division 2 of the Cairns Regional Council admired himself in the full length mirror of the ensuite in his plush hotel room. He was wearing a full tux, which made him look elegant he thought.
He would enjoy the evening. Having everyone say nice little pleasantries about him, having the
women all hug him and push their breasts against him, and generally being the centre of attention all evening. He didn't mind being the centre of attention.
Taking one last swallow of a glass of champagne, he left the hotel suite and took the lift
down to the basement where his chauffeur waited. As his lift descended, the adjoining lift
stopped at the floor of his hotel room. Three physically fit men, dressed in almost identical
grey suits stepped out and strode to his door and knocked.
After a few minutes knocking, they twigged. "Shit, we've missed him! He must have just
left to go to the party!" one said. Quickly the three Australian Federal Police Officers
took the lift back to the ground floor.
..............................................................................
The party was in full swing at the Esplanade hotel, where the Conservative Party were
holding their Celebratory Black Tie Ball. Cush was in fine form, throwing down glasses of
merlot, cracking jokes and keeping an eye out for the man of the moment, Bartholomew (Bud)
Yarrow, Councillor for Division 2, to arrive for his moment of glory.
Yarrow's wife Mia had arrived earlier by herself in a long limousine. She had told Cush that
her husband was caught up with a couple of phone calls, and would soon follow her to the
function. That had been over twenty minutes ago, and there was still no sign of the new
Councillor.
Cush noted that there were several television news crews in the room, waiting for the man
of the hour, as well.
Suddenly there was a shout and the MAN himself was walking in through the door. With one
accord, all those present gave out a mighty cheer. "The conquering hero!" shouted the local
radio shock jock who was Master of Ceremonies for the evening. There were more cheers, congratulatory slaps on the back, hands shaken, women hugged and kissed as the Councillor for Division 2 made his way slowly through the crowd to the stage where the M.C. waited for him with a huge smile on his face.
Sitting at a table was the Editor of The Cairns Post who was busily writing Monday's lead story for The Cairns Post on the by-election.
"CUSH DOES IT AGAIN!" he wrote. "Electors in Division 2 gave an overwhelming vote of confidence in the leadership of Colonel Ken Cush in Saturday's by-election. Bud Yarrow, the successful business entrepreneur who is engaged in the medical tourist industry in Vietnam and who owns several backpacker establishments in Bali, received a solid vote of approval from the 12,800 electors. It was the right choice as Bud Yarrow's credentials are exemplary. He is a successful businessman, he knows the tourist industry, he has solid links to Asia and the booming economies there, and as anyone knows, Bud Yarrow is a decent, generous man with scruples and integrity, well liked and admired by many. He will live up to the expectations of voters."
The Editor read it through a second time, and sent the story off via email. It was all done and he was happy with it. He sat there at his table, drinking a glass of wine and smiling. He had helped with this victory. He hoped Yarrow would remember who his friends were.
"Come up here buddy!" roared the M.C. radio shock jock, as Yarrow battled his way through
the surging crowd of well wishers, and made it to the stage.
No-one noticed as three well built men, all dressed in similar grey suits walked into the
ball-room and carefully positioned themselves to the side of the stage.
As Yarrow climbed the stairs to the stage, the radio shock jock grabbed him in a tight bear-hug.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he roared, "I love this man, and I don't care who knows it!"
The three men stared. There was no doubting who they were looking at. They had seen
close ups of him in a video taken on a mobile phone by a very courageous young Balinese boy.
Bartholomew Josiah Yarrow was the Monster of Denpasar.
The radio shock jock continued his spiel. "I've known this man for many years, and I have to
tell you all, he is just the best, and I mean, the best type of person you could ever wish to
meet...."
"Fucking hell!" muttered one of the Australian Federal Police officers. "What have we got here?"
"Bud Yarrow is one of the most generous, community spirited and decent men I have
had the pleasure to know," continued the shock jock, warming to his subject and his voice.
"If you ask him for the shirt off his back, he'll give it to you..........."
"Ooooh, isn't he just gorgeous!" simpered a voice close to the A.F.P. officers. They all spun
around to see a middle aged woman staring at Bud Yarrow.
"Ooooh, he's just divine, he really is," gushed her friend beside her.
To be continued.................................
Wednesday, 20 July 2011
THE SKY PILOT FROM BENTLEY PARK - PART 5
SATURDAY 17TH AUGUST 2013 - BY-ELECTION FOR DIVISION 2
CAIRNS REGIONAl COUNCIL
Doug Dunnysmore sipped his slippery elm bark tree tea (which was really not slippery elm
bark, but more of a mixture of ground up plain old black tea leaves mixed with powdered milk plus the odd grain or two of mouse droppings) with deep satisfaction.
In front of him lined up like a row of bullets were more of his defence forces against the world of bugs, viruses, bacteria and invisible deadly agents which, he, Doug Dunnysmore knew could strike a person down at any time. Taking a large mouthful of tea, he started the ritual of swallowing his
capsules of iodine, rose hips, lysine, proline, cod liver oil, potassium, garlic, magnesium, sulfur,
argon, beryllium ,silver, zinc, palladium, manganese and tungsten. Last but not least he swallowed two Vitamin C's and two immune boosting capsules.
This was a ritual which he undertook faithfully three times a day, as well as drinking iodine flavoured water and painting most of his body with iodine. Iodine was to help him fight the nuclear fall-out from Japan's stricken nuclear power stations which he calculated was out there in the atmosphere everywhere. Oh people had laughed at him and called him a stupid fuck, but he had only shrugged and thought youse will all be sorry one day!
The day of the election showed promise of being a beautiful, bright, sunny, but not too warm a day in the tropical city of Cairns. Dunnysmore stared out of his kitchen window with mounting excitement as he ate his breakfast of a handful of goji berries.
After today, he would be the new Councillor for Division Two on he Cairns Regional Council. To be sure he didn't have any relevant experience, having worked as a storeman for a large health food chain for some years, and he didn't have a large campaign committee or funds, but deep down he just knew he was the one people would vote for. Mentally he went over his organisation for the day. There were three polling places, St Theresa's School at Edmonton, the State School at Hambledon, and the State School at Bentley Park. He only had three polling workers, his brother Teddy, Teddy's mate Pedro and himself. They would all have to man one polling station each all day until the polls closed at 6pm.
As he finished his gojis, he felt a surge of fresh excitement course his body. This time tomorrow, he would be COUNCILLOR DUNNYSMORE. Then he could tell everyone, and especially those people who tormented him to take their shit and have sex with it. He smiled at his own wit.
..........................................................
The Reverend Harmon was preparing for the election day as well. He had visited all the polling places, at Edmonton, Hambledon and his home suburb of Bentley Park and helped erect tents, tables and chairs for the volunteers. Not that there were many volunteers left now. He had had to coerce his Aunt and Uncle to man the booth at Edmonton for half a day as more volunteers had backed away.
As he drove between the various polling places, making sure everyone had enough of the "How to Vote" papers, bottles of water and lists of mobile phone numbers to keep everyone connected during the day, he went over the events of the last twenty-four hours in his mind.
Following the local shock jock's talk-back radio show, he had received several abusive phone calls, mostly anonymous. Then after midday, Amber had arrived home from work in tears. She had overheard two of the women she worked with describe him as a "womanising sleaze hiding behind the cross". Amber had defended her husband as best she could before dissolving into floods of tears.
That afternoon, their oldest son, Aiden, arrived home with a black eye, a split lip and severe chest bruising. A fight had broken out in the school grounds of the Bentley Park State Primary School with some boys bullying Aiden about his father. Aiden had attempted to defend himself, and would have received more severe injuries had not some teachers intervened.
He had no idea his community aspirations could hurt his family so deeply, the Reverend thought grimly. His opponents had likely destroyed his political ambitions with one awful lie, but in so doing had put his family through hell. Once he saw his son's battered and bruised face, and watched how his son stoicly held back his tears, the Reverend decided that he would never stand as a candidate for public office ever again.
As he pulled up outside the Bentley Park State School, he swore softly under his breath as he spotted the 60 Minutes film crew waiting. He had completely forgotten how the producer had said they would come back after his successful television appearances to film the by-election. He could hear the journalese as the program aired...."The sky pilot from Bentley Park in the Far Norths city of Cairns, who appeared on this program some weeks ago, has fallen, big time....".
The only thing left for him was to discover just how many voters had deserted him.....
......................................................
Bud Yarrow sipped his coffee on the balcony of his first class hotel on the Cairns Esplanade as he read the days schedule prepared for him by the staff of the CUSH CONSERVATIVES COUNCIL TEAM. He noted that the local television media were expected to film the polling stations around noon, and it was suggested that he be there for the filming. The party staff had arranged all of this a few weeks back. All the polling stations were well manned, right down to ample scrutineers for the evening. Even the celebratory party had been planned and was to be held that evening in the ballroom of a local hotel. Black tie only.
Yarrow sent an SMS text message off to his wife Mia to be ready at approximately 11.30 when he would have his chauffeur drive by and pick her up so that the two of them could be seen visiting the volunteers at the polling station. He and his wife had not lived together for years, but both agreed to play the part of the happily married couple when occasion demanded it. Such as this election.
Mia "scrubbed up well" Yarrow thought. All the plastic surgery, teeth whitening, breast enlargement, laser and botox and what have you had kept her looking youthful for her own career
in life which was admiring herself in mirrors and comparing her beauty with other womens.
He stretched back in his chair and yawned. The campaign for Councillor hadn't been too difficult, a bit of a bore really. He was naturally competitive, but this hadn't been any real competition. Kenny Cush had fallen over himself in agreeing to endorse him as the candidate for the Division, when he offered Cush a cut in his businesses in Vietnam. Yarrow owned and operated several hotels in Vietnam and had cashed in on the growing "medical tourist" industry to Vietnam. As he explained to Cush, each year thousands of Australians, Americans and Europeans were flocking to countries like Vietnam for surgeries and dental treatments which were affordable in Vietnam but were no longer affordable in the West. Yarrow's company organised the whole kit and kaboodle for everyone. From the air travel, to hotel accommodation, to choosing the hospital and medical team, to the interpreter to his privately owned taxis and restaurants. It was a lucrative business with ever increasing profits. Cush had been only too happy to accept a parcel of shares in the company.
It was the only way to do business, Yarrow reasoned. A bit of the old quid pro quo. It had been very successful for him all his life, and every man had his price. Most men and women were hungry. He had seen it in Cush's eyes the moment he first saw him. And in the eyes of his Deputy Mayor, the lizard like man Cush called Horsey. And hunger for money was rarely sated.
There were all types of hunger, Yarrow reflected as he stood on the balcony and watched the deep blue of the Pacific Ocean lap the Cairns Esplanade. He, too, had hungers. He hungered for money, for wealth and status, but there was another hunger. One which he kept well hidden.
Abruptly, he left the balcony and went back into the rooms inside where he took out his laptop.
He had some emails to send. As he sent them off, he smiled as he thought that from tomorrow he could rightfully end his emails with, Councillor Bud Yarrow, Cairns Regional Council. Not of course that he wanted it all to end with being a mere Councillor. He had noted that Ken Cush didn't look exactly what anyone would call "salubrious" however they stretched their imagination. In fact the fat fuck looked like he could have a severe coronary at any moment. Yarrow stifled a dry chuckle as he thought about a certain Vietnamese doctor he had befriended who had told him that certain drugs could hasten a major heart attack. Give or take a couple of months, he would be his Worship the Mayor of Cairns, Bartholomew (Bud) Yarrow.
To be continued....................
CAIRNS REGIONAl COUNCIL
Doug Dunnysmore sipped his slippery elm bark tree tea (which was really not slippery elm
bark, but more of a mixture of ground up plain old black tea leaves mixed with powdered milk plus the odd grain or two of mouse droppings) with deep satisfaction.
In front of him lined up like a row of bullets were more of his defence forces against the world of bugs, viruses, bacteria and invisible deadly agents which, he, Doug Dunnysmore knew could strike a person down at any time. Taking a large mouthful of tea, he started the ritual of swallowing his
capsules of iodine, rose hips, lysine, proline, cod liver oil, potassium, garlic, magnesium, sulfur,
argon, beryllium ,silver, zinc, palladium, manganese and tungsten. Last but not least he swallowed two Vitamin C's and two immune boosting capsules.
This was a ritual which he undertook faithfully three times a day, as well as drinking iodine flavoured water and painting most of his body with iodine. Iodine was to help him fight the nuclear fall-out from Japan's stricken nuclear power stations which he calculated was out there in the atmosphere everywhere. Oh people had laughed at him and called him a stupid fuck, but he had only shrugged and thought youse will all be sorry one day!
The day of the election showed promise of being a beautiful, bright, sunny, but not too warm a day in the tropical city of Cairns. Dunnysmore stared out of his kitchen window with mounting excitement as he ate his breakfast of a handful of goji berries.
After today, he would be the new Councillor for Division Two on he Cairns Regional Council. To be sure he didn't have any relevant experience, having worked as a storeman for a large health food chain for some years, and he didn't have a large campaign committee or funds, but deep down he just knew he was the one people would vote for. Mentally he went over his organisation for the day. There were three polling places, St Theresa's School at Edmonton, the State School at Hambledon, and the State School at Bentley Park. He only had three polling workers, his brother Teddy, Teddy's mate Pedro and himself. They would all have to man one polling station each all day until the polls closed at 6pm.
As he finished his gojis, he felt a surge of fresh excitement course his body. This time tomorrow, he would be COUNCILLOR DUNNYSMORE. Then he could tell everyone, and especially those people who tormented him to take their shit and have sex with it. He smiled at his own wit.
..........................................................
The Reverend Harmon was preparing for the election day as well. He had visited all the polling places, at Edmonton, Hambledon and his home suburb of Bentley Park and helped erect tents, tables and chairs for the volunteers. Not that there were many volunteers left now. He had had to coerce his Aunt and Uncle to man the booth at Edmonton for half a day as more volunteers had backed away.
As he drove between the various polling places, making sure everyone had enough of the "How to Vote" papers, bottles of water and lists of mobile phone numbers to keep everyone connected during the day, he went over the events of the last twenty-four hours in his mind.
Following the local shock jock's talk-back radio show, he had received several abusive phone calls, mostly anonymous. Then after midday, Amber had arrived home from work in tears. She had overheard two of the women she worked with describe him as a "womanising sleaze hiding behind the cross". Amber had defended her husband as best she could before dissolving into floods of tears.
That afternoon, their oldest son, Aiden, arrived home with a black eye, a split lip and severe chest bruising. A fight had broken out in the school grounds of the Bentley Park State Primary School with some boys bullying Aiden about his father. Aiden had attempted to defend himself, and would have received more severe injuries had not some teachers intervened.
He had no idea his community aspirations could hurt his family so deeply, the Reverend thought grimly. His opponents had likely destroyed his political ambitions with one awful lie, but in so doing had put his family through hell. Once he saw his son's battered and bruised face, and watched how his son stoicly held back his tears, the Reverend decided that he would never stand as a candidate for public office ever again.
As he pulled up outside the Bentley Park State School, he swore softly under his breath as he spotted the 60 Minutes film crew waiting. He had completely forgotten how the producer had said they would come back after his successful television appearances to film the by-election. He could hear the journalese as the program aired...."The sky pilot from Bentley Park in the Far Norths city of Cairns, who appeared on this program some weeks ago, has fallen, big time....".
The only thing left for him was to discover just how many voters had deserted him.....
......................................................
Bud Yarrow sipped his coffee on the balcony of his first class hotel on the Cairns Esplanade as he read the days schedule prepared for him by the staff of the CUSH CONSERVATIVES COUNCIL TEAM. He noted that the local television media were expected to film the polling stations around noon, and it was suggested that he be there for the filming. The party staff had arranged all of this a few weeks back. All the polling stations were well manned, right down to ample scrutineers for the evening. Even the celebratory party had been planned and was to be held that evening in the ballroom of a local hotel. Black tie only.
Yarrow sent an SMS text message off to his wife Mia to be ready at approximately 11.30 when he would have his chauffeur drive by and pick her up so that the two of them could be seen visiting the volunteers at the polling station. He and his wife had not lived together for years, but both agreed to play the part of the happily married couple when occasion demanded it. Such as this election.
Mia "scrubbed up well" Yarrow thought. All the plastic surgery, teeth whitening, breast enlargement, laser and botox and what have you had kept her looking youthful for her own career
in life which was admiring herself in mirrors and comparing her beauty with other womens.
He stretched back in his chair and yawned. The campaign for Councillor hadn't been too difficult, a bit of a bore really. He was naturally competitive, but this hadn't been any real competition. Kenny Cush had fallen over himself in agreeing to endorse him as the candidate for the Division, when he offered Cush a cut in his businesses in Vietnam. Yarrow owned and operated several hotels in Vietnam and had cashed in on the growing "medical tourist" industry to Vietnam. As he explained to Cush, each year thousands of Australians, Americans and Europeans were flocking to countries like Vietnam for surgeries and dental treatments which were affordable in Vietnam but were no longer affordable in the West. Yarrow's company organised the whole kit and kaboodle for everyone. From the air travel, to hotel accommodation, to choosing the hospital and medical team, to the interpreter to his privately owned taxis and restaurants. It was a lucrative business with ever increasing profits. Cush had been only too happy to accept a parcel of shares in the company.
It was the only way to do business, Yarrow reasoned. A bit of the old quid pro quo. It had been very successful for him all his life, and every man had his price. Most men and women were hungry. He had seen it in Cush's eyes the moment he first saw him. And in the eyes of his Deputy Mayor, the lizard like man Cush called Horsey. And hunger for money was rarely sated.
There were all types of hunger, Yarrow reflected as he stood on the balcony and watched the deep blue of the Pacific Ocean lap the Cairns Esplanade. He, too, had hungers. He hungered for money, for wealth and status, but there was another hunger. One which he kept well hidden.
Abruptly, he left the balcony and went back into the rooms inside where he took out his laptop.
He had some emails to send. As he sent them off, he smiled as he thought that from tomorrow he could rightfully end his emails with, Councillor Bud Yarrow, Cairns Regional Council. Not of course that he wanted it all to end with being a mere Councillor. He had noted that Ken Cush didn't look exactly what anyone would call "salubrious" however they stretched their imagination. In fact the fat fuck looked like he could have a severe coronary at any moment. Yarrow stifled a dry chuckle as he thought about a certain Vietnamese doctor he had befriended who had told him that certain drugs could hasten a major heart attack. Give or take a couple of months, he would be his Worship the Mayor of Cairns, Bartholomew (Bud) Yarrow.
To be continued....................
Wednesday, 13 July 2011
THE SKY PILOT FROM BENTLEY PARK - PART 4
THE PRIME MINISTER OF AUSTRALIA, Malcolm Turnbull, could feel his temper beginning to roil and simmer. He flexed his hands under the table, sucked in his cheeks and looked at the clock. 15 minutes past 2PM. To all watching he looked calm and controlled. Only his Deputy Prime Minister, Julie Bishop sitting beside him was aware of the brewing anger.
The ALP Leader, Ms Penny Wong had deliberately left them all waiting, he was sure of it.
The Prime Minister had organised for the House of Representatives staff to personally call upon all the people he needed to see for this urgent meeting, and remind them it was a meeting they should not miss. Everyone else was here, all on time. He did a check around the long boardroom table, once again silently cursing the stupidity of the Australian voter.
At the 2013 Federal Election, the ALP lost office. That wasn't unexpected, Turnbull reflected, as Australians objected to Julia Gillard's proposed Carbon Tax and her inept handling of the issue. The Aussie voter had also thrown out the only Greens member in the House of Representatives as well. Yet, Malcolm mourned silently, the voter also turned away from the Liberal National Party. Tony Abbott was too unpopular, especially after all his gymnastics on climate change and whatever else..Turnbull couldn't care about the reasons why. He disliked Abbott intensely and was glad he was now relegated to the back benches under his, Turnbull's leadership. Just before the Federal Election was called, pollsters revealed the LNP would suffer huge losses if a new leader was not in place. Malcolm Turnbull therefore delightedly found himself restored as Parliamentary Leader of the Federal LNP. Strange things happen in politics.
No-one however could have predicted the result. Voters turned away from both major parties in their hundreds of thousands, with both the LNP and ALP suffering huge losses. Instead, voters selected a rag tag babble of select interest groups. In a cruel irony, both the LNP and ALP received an equal number of seats in the House of Representatives, echoing the hung Parliament of 2010. Malcolm had cursed as he realised whoever got into Government had to do deals with two Rastafarian looking aboriginal members of the "First Nation Party"; two members of the "Gay and Lesbian Rights Party"; a Queensland representative of Pauline Hanson's "One Nation Party" and three members of the "Australian Seniors Party", as well as a gaggle of non-aligned independents such as Queensland's Bob Katter and Tasmania's Andrew Wilkie.
The result was not to Malcolm Turnbull's liking. The LNP held a slippery grip on Government only with the help of Bob Katter, the two Gay & Lesbian Rights Party representatives, the One Nation Party representative and one Fred Nile type independent. To be truthful, Malcolm Turnbull thought to himself, it was a fucken nightmare! Julia Gillard had it cushy compared to the wheeling and dealing, negotiations and compromises he had to do. Frankly, it had pissed him off. On one hand he had the gays wanting legalisation of same-sex marriages, on the other the Fred Nile independent demanding he didn't legalise same sex marriages. One independent wanted the Government Intervention in the Northern Territory overturned and a softening in attitude of the Australian Government towards illegal immigrants, while the other wanted the opposite. Turnbull was pissed off with them all. Take this bloody meeting, for instance, if he had full control of Government, he would meet with Ms bloody Wong in his office and they would have had just a short meeting about this bloody awful bloody matter. And it would all over in about five minutes.
"She's here!" broke in Julie Bishop, leaning forward in her chair to the Prime Minister.
"So glad the Leader of the Opposition finally remembered this meeting," Malcolm said curtly, "Now let's get down to business."
Every head at the table turned towards the Prime Minister and in the few seconds following there was complete silence except for the sound of gentle snores coming from the seat of Dr Stephens, one of the representatives of the Australian Seniors Party.
Andrew Wilkie, sitting beside Dr Stephens shook him gently awake. "Hey Doc," he said,
"wakey wakey!"
Dr. Stephens awoke with a start and looked sleepily around. "The hospital has done very well, very well indeed!" he said in his soft, quavery voice.
"I'm glad he's one of yours Penny," quipped Joe Hockey, with a quick laugh.
"That's enough Joe," warned the Prime Minister. "We're all gathered here today for a very serious matter. I have a video to show you all and before I do I must ask if there is anyone here who has health problems, because the contents of this video are very disturbing. No flip comments from you Joe or I will send you OUT!" He looked warningly at Joe Hockey, who was smiling.
"Ohhh dear, oh dearie me," broke in Dr Stephens, struggling to his feet. "I have a matter of high blood pressure, perhaps I should go then."
"Anyone else?" the Prime Minister asked.
No-one else in the room moved, as the Doctor, one of the Australian Seniors Party representative and the oldest member of Parliament, slowly walked out.
"Off for a grandpa nap in his office," whispered Hockey, earning a baleful stare from other members of The Australian Seniors Party.
"Now that I have your undivided attention," said the Prime Minister. "I have called you all here today because an issue has come up which is urgent and, quite frankly, a matter of grave international delicacy. It has to be dealt with urgently and with as much secrecy as possible."
Every member in the room was now giving the Prime Minister their full attention. Even Joe Hockey who had noticed a button had pulled open on Julie Bishop's blouse, revealing a certain expanse of cleavage.
Prime Minister Turnbull turned to the large screen mounted on the wall behind him.
"I will be showing you a video soon, but before I do, I just want to give you a briefing on what it is all about. "
"A few days ago, I was contacted by the President of Indonesia, Mr Susilo Yudhoyono and the President of Vietnam, Nguyen Minh Triet. What they told me was just horrific and what you see and hear today will affect you as much as it affected me. Authorities in those countries have been chasing a mass killer for some years. A killer whose victims are all children, some as young as three years of age. A killer whose crimes have been so terrible that the Indonesian and Vietnamese authorities have combined to find this monster. The Presidents tell me that the media in their respective countries have been putting pressure on their Governments to find and deal with this monstrous killer of children. In fact, in Indonesia, there was a huge demonstration outside the Indonesian Parliament by people demanding the authorities find the killer and bring him to justice. Well, that killer has been found, and the evidence to prove his guilt is quite substantial and beyond any doubt. There are witness accounts and even DNA samples, as well as a substantial number of images taken by mobile phones. "
The Prime Minister paused, and looked across at the faces around the table. "It is my unpleasant duty to inform you that the culprit, the man the Indonesian media have named "the Monster of Denpasar" is an Australian man. The Indonesian President wants him delivered to that country as soon as possible for a trial. "
Malcolm Turnbull turned towards the big screen behind him. "I'm now going to show you all the video which was sent to me by the President of Indonesia.. I warn you all it does show some particularly gruesome and disturbing scenes...."
The Members of Parliament watched as they listened to both Presidents of Indonesia and
Vietnam implore the Australian Government to assist them in bringing a mass murderer to justice. Both Presidents used interpreters, however the emotion both Presidents were experiencing was obvious to all who listened. The Indonesian President in particular did not hide his rising, angry voice. Both Presidents made it plain that unless the murderer was delivered to Indonesia before the coming Monday, they would take certain actions against Australia. The first would be to deny entry to either Indonesia or Vietnam of all Australians. They meant business!
The addresses by the two Presidents came to a close and images of bloodied and mangled bodies flashed across the screen. Julie Bishop screamed and put her hand over her mouth. Penny Wong closed her eyes and shuddered.
"Dear God," muttered Andrew Wilkie, "What manner of monster have we got here in Australia?"
"To do this to little children," said Bob Katter, his voice a high pitched squeak.
The images ceased and the Prime Minister turned to face the table of representatives.
His own face had blanched at seeing the images and he looked grey and haggard.
There was the sound of gagging, and one of the Australian Seniors Party stood and rushed to the door. Joe Hockey quickly threw him a waste paper basket. Just as the door closed, they could hear the sound of copious vomiting.
"If anyone else wants to leave," said Malcolm Turnbull, "I won't stop you."
"However, I am agreeing to the demands of the Indonesian and Vietnamese Governments and I have already contacted the Australian Federal Police. They have located the man, and an RAAF airplane will be flying out of Australia tomorrow night to fly him direct to a secret airfield in Indonesia. I have arranged for AFP officers and some members of the Australian armed forces to firstly apprehend the man and then to accompany him out of Australia."
"Due to the delicacy of this matter, and the repercussions to Australia, and even the possible danger to Australians in those countries, I am asking that this matter be kept under wraps until at least Monday when this monster is in Indonesian hands."
Everyone nodded.
Ever the legal eagle, Ms Wong asked, "Will he be allowed Australian legal counsel?"
The Prime Minister nodded. "Yes, although the trial will be fast tracked. They don't want to leave it too long."
To be continued................
The ALP Leader, Ms Penny Wong had deliberately left them all waiting, he was sure of it.
The Prime Minister had organised for the House of Representatives staff to personally call upon all the people he needed to see for this urgent meeting, and remind them it was a meeting they should not miss. Everyone else was here, all on time. He did a check around the long boardroom table, once again silently cursing the stupidity of the Australian voter.
At the 2013 Federal Election, the ALP lost office. That wasn't unexpected, Turnbull reflected, as Australians objected to Julia Gillard's proposed Carbon Tax and her inept handling of the issue. The Aussie voter had also thrown out the only Greens member in the House of Representatives as well. Yet, Malcolm mourned silently, the voter also turned away from the Liberal National Party. Tony Abbott was too unpopular, especially after all his gymnastics on climate change and whatever else..Turnbull couldn't care about the reasons why. He disliked Abbott intensely and was glad he was now relegated to the back benches under his, Turnbull's leadership. Just before the Federal Election was called, pollsters revealed the LNP would suffer huge losses if a new leader was not in place. Malcolm Turnbull therefore delightedly found himself restored as Parliamentary Leader of the Federal LNP. Strange things happen in politics.
No-one however could have predicted the result. Voters turned away from both major parties in their hundreds of thousands, with both the LNP and ALP suffering huge losses. Instead, voters selected a rag tag babble of select interest groups. In a cruel irony, both the LNP and ALP received an equal number of seats in the House of Representatives, echoing the hung Parliament of 2010. Malcolm had cursed as he realised whoever got into Government had to do deals with two Rastafarian looking aboriginal members of the "First Nation Party"; two members of the "Gay and Lesbian Rights Party"; a Queensland representative of Pauline Hanson's "One Nation Party" and three members of the "Australian Seniors Party", as well as a gaggle of non-aligned independents such as Queensland's Bob Katter and Tasmania's Andrew Wilkie.
The result was not to Malcolm Turnbull's liking. The LNP held a slippery grip on Government only with the help of Bob Katter, the two Gay & Lesbian Rights Party representatives, the One Nation Party representative and one Fred Nile type independent. To be truthful, Malcolm Turnbull thought to himself, it was a fucken nightmare! Julia Gillard had it cushy compared to the wheeling and dealing, negotiations and compromises he had to do. Frankly, it had pissed him off. On one hand he had the gays wanting legalisation of same-sex marriages, on the other the Fred Nile independent demanding he didn't legalise same sex marriages. One independent wanted the Government Intervention in the Northern Territory overturned and a softening in attitude of the Australian Government towards illegal immigrants, while the other wanted the opposite. Turnbull was pissed off with them all. Take this bloody meeting, for instance, if he had full control of Government, he would meet with Ms bloody Wong in his office and they would have had just a short meeting about this bloody awful bloody matter. And it would all over in about five minutes.
"She's here!" broke in Julie Bishop, leaning forward in her chair to the Prime Minister.
"So glad the Leader of the Opposition finally remembered this meeting," Malcolm said curtly, "Now let's get down to business."
Every head at the table turned towards the Prime Minister and in the few seconds following there was complete silence except for the sound of gentle snores coming from the seat of Dr Stephens, one of the representatives of the Australian Seniors Party.
Andrew Wilkie, sitting beside Dr Stephens shook him gently awake. "Hey Doc," he said,
"wakey wakey!"
Dr. Stephens awoke with a start and looked sleepily around. "The hospital has done very well, very well indeed!" he said in his soft, quavery voice.
"I'm glad he's one of yours Penny," quipped Joe Hockey, with a quick laugh.
"That's enough Joe," warned the Prime Minister. "We're all gathered here today for a very serious matter. I have a video to show you all and before I do I must ask if there is anyone here who has health problems, because the contents of this video are very disturbing. No flip comments from you Joe or I will send you OUT!" He looked warningly at Joe Hockey, who was smiling.
"Ohhh dear, oh dearie me," broke in Dr Stephens, struggling to his feet. "I have a matter of high blood pressure, perhaps I should go then."
"Anyone else?" the Prime Minister asked.
No-one else in the room moved, as the Doctor, one of the Australian Seniors Party representative and the oldest member of Parliament, slowly walked out.
"Off for a grandpa nap in his office," whispered Hockey, earning a baleful stare from other members of The Australian Seniors Party.
"Now that I have your undivided attention," said the Prime Minister. "I have called you all here today because an issue has come up which is urgent and, quite frankly, a matter of grave international delicacy. It has to be dealt with urgently and with as much secrecy as possible."
Every member in the room was now giving the Prime Minister their full attention. Even Joe Hockey who had noticed a button had pulled open on Julie Bishop's blouse, revealing a certain expanse of cleavage.
Prime Minister Turnbull turned to the large screen mounted on the wall behind him.
"I will be showing you a video soon, but before I do, I just want to give you a briefing on what it is all about. "
"A few days ago, I was contacted by the President of Indonesia, Mr Susilo Yudhoyono and the President of Vietnam, Nguyen Minh Triet. What they told me was just horrific and what you see and hear today will affect you as much as it affected me. Authorities in those countries have been chasing a mass killer for some years. A killer whose victims are all children, some as young as three years of age. A killer whose crimes have been so terrible that the Indonesian and Vietnamese authorities have combined to find this monster. The Presidents tell me that the media in their respective countries have been putting pressure on their Governments to find and deal with this monstrous killer of children. In fact, in Indonesia, there was a huge demonstration outside the Indonesian Parliament by people demanding the authorities find the killer and bring him to justice. Well, that killer has been found, and the evidence to prove his guilt is quite substantial and beyond any doubt. There are witness accounts and even DNA samples, as well as a substantial number of images taken by mobile phones. "
The Prime Minister paused, and looked across at the faces around the table. "It is my unpleasant duty to inform you that the culprit, the man the Indonesian media have named "the Monster of Denpasar" is an Australian man. The Indonesian President wants him delivered to that country as soon as possible for a trial. "
Malcolm Turnbull turned towards the big screen behind him. "I'm now going to show you all the video which was sent to me by the President of Indonesia.. I warn you all it does show some particularly gruesome and disturbing scenes...."
The Members of Parliament watched as they listened to both Presidents of Indonesia and
Vietnam implore the Australian Government to assist them in bringing a mass murderer to justice. Both Presidents used interpreters, however the emotion both Presidents were experiencing was obvious to all who listened. The Indonesian President in particular did not hide his rising, angry voice. Both Presidents made it plain that unless the murderer was delivered to Indonesia before the coming Monday, they would take certain actions against Australia. The first would be to deny entry to either Indonesia or Vietnam of all Australians. They meant business!
The addresses by the two Presidents came to a close and images of bloodied and mangled bodies flashed across the screen. Julie Bishop screamed and put her hand over her mouth. Penny Wong closed her eyes and shuddered.
"Dear God," muttered Andrew Wilkie, "What manner of monster have we got here in Australia?"
"To do this to little children," said Bob Katter, his voice a high pitched squeak.
The images ceased and the Prime Minister turned to face the table of representatives.
His own face had blanched at seeing the images and he looked grey and haggard.
There was the sound of gagging, and one of the Australian Seniors Party stood and rushed to the door. Joe Hockey quickly threw him a waste paper basket. Just as the door closed, they could hear the sound of copious vomiting.
"If anyone else wants to leave," said Malcolm Turnbull, "I won't stop you."
"However, I am agreeing to the demands of the Indonesian and Vietnamese Governments and I have already contacted the Australian Federal Police. They have located the man, and an RAAF airplane will be flying out of Australia tomorrow night to fly him direct to a secret airfield in Indonesia. I have arranged for AFP officers and some members of the Australian armed forces to firstly apprehend the man and then to accompany him out of Australia."
"Due to the delicacy of this matter, and the repercussions to Australia, and even the possible danger to Australians in those countries, I am asking that this matter be kept under wraps until at least Monday when this monster is in Indonesian hands."
Everyone nodded.
Ever the legal eagle, Ms Wong asked, "Will he be allowed Australian legal counsel?"
The Prime Minister nodded. "Yes, although the trial will be fast tracked. They don't want to leave it too long."
To be continued................
Saturday, 9 July 2011
THE SKY PILOT FROM BENTLEY PARK - PART 3
Horsey took it upon himself to do a "follow up" call with the local Cairns Post newspaper.
Horsey prided himself on "follow ups". It was amazing what could be achieved, he reasoned, with diligent observance of the social graces.
"Hey mate! On yer!" he chortled cheerily, as he finally reached the Editor's desk.
The frosty tone of voice which had identified the Editor changed immediately to one of familiarity and cordiality. "Horsey mate, how's it hangin'? Haven't heard from you in a couple of weeks?"
Horsey chuckled. "Too busy with all this Council bizzo, you know how it is. But hey, did you see that stripper from The Red Plum a little while ago? She was on her way in, to talk with you?"
"Haven't seen any stripper in here mate, wished I could though," came the reply. "What's all this about?"
Horsey frowned and silently cursed himself for not using his mobile phone to record Dilly reciting back what he had told her to say. It would have provided hard evidence to discredit the Reverend and he could have sent it on to the Editor. The benefits of modern technology, he thought with irritation, and he was not savvy enough to bloody use it!
Horsey chose his words, carefully. Very carefully. "Well mate, you know it's not like me to carry tales out of school, like........."
"No mate, that's for sure," broke in the Editor, raising his eyebrows and rolling his eyes.
"But I got to tell you this," Horsey continued, speaking slowly. "One of the strippers from The Red Plum, name of Dilly, told me only about an hour or so ago, that one of The Club's regular customers is none other than our own sky pilot bloody morals crusader himself. Not only that, but the Reverend has been an ummm, client of Dilly's more entertaining services."
"Really?" came the excited reply. "Well, well, well, doesn't surprise me in the least...you know what these so called Ministers of Religion can be like........"
"Exactly," Horsey answered. "So I sent this Dilly girl over to see you mate. Hasn't she arrived there yet?"
"No, I haven't seen her and no-one in the downstairs office has left me a message either," the Editor replied.
"You could always give Jaye a call at The Red Plum and find out where she is?" suggested Horsey helpfully, smiling broadly, even as he wondered what the hell had happened with the stripper.
"I'll do that mate and thanks for the info."
.................................
A phone call from the Editor five minutes later confirmed that "Dilly" was a stripper at The Red Plum, but that she was not available to talk at the time of the call. Jaye, the Manager of The Red Plum was circumspect when asked directly by the Editor if the Reverend Harmon was a regular guest of the premises. "Mate, he could be, I wouldn't know. We don't ask our patrons who they are," he replied. Several phone calls later, and the Editor had still been unable to talk directly with Dilly. On the last call, Jaye told the Editor that another stripper called "Candy" had last seen Dilly that morning walking down Lake Street to do some shopping.
The Editor decided to trust in Horsey and the stripper, for a well timed Editorial.
As he wrote, he wondered just how much of an impact it would have on that commie bastard's election chances on the following Saturday.
....................................................
The Editorial appeared in the Friday newspaper, one day before the by-election for Division 2.
"A LITTLE MATTER OF HYPOCRISY"
We all admire people of principles, integrity and moral rectitude, particularly in these uncertain times of rising crime, family break-ups, confusion over long held values and the general cynicism towards our elected representatives.
Yes, we all admire and respect those wholesome, honest, shining men and women whose lives are without blemish or the faults of us lesser mortals. It makes us feel good to know these perfect people are still around.
We admire goodness. We admire decency. We're tired of trusting in people who let us down. We want someone to represent us whom we can trust in absolutely.
We don't want someone who loudly proclaims to be an innocent, yet behind closed doors is as tarnished and sullied as the next person. We don't want someone who sells himself to all and sundry as "a good and decent man", yet hides a secret and immoral life.
Our society has wolves in sheep's clothing. This Editor has discovered such a wolf, a hideous, carping hypocrite of a man, who publicly condemns the Girlie Club industry in Cairns, while being a frequent patron himself.
For this coming by-election for Division 2, I would ask voters to give who they vote for some serious, critical thinking and not be misled by the wolves in
our community who speak with forked tongues. "
..................................................
The Reverend Matthew Harmon read the Editorial about mid morning on the Friday.
He hadn't read "The Cairns Post" until one of his congregation, old Tom Algey, had
phoned to pass the information on.
"He's writing about you I reckon," old Tom croaked. "Someone has it in for you!"
Matt Harmon read the Editorial with exasperation. He had guessed there would be
more attempts to sabotage his election chances, however he never thought for a moment
that it would go this far. He hoped, he prayed, that people would continue to trust him.
It was all he could do.
His Mother phoned, barely seconds after he had finished reading the Editorial. She was
upset almost to the point of hysteria. "Everyone at the Bowls Club has read it and
are talking about it," she said, with a catch in her throat.
Matt did his best to calm his Mother, while wondering if it would affect his campaign workers.
It didn't take long to find out. As he fired up his computer and checked his emails, he
found short emails from three volunteer booth workers, stating that they had other
commitments on the Saturday and would no longer be working for him. This was
followed by a phone call from a woman who had also volunteered to hand out his "How
to Vote" cards at the State School in Hambledon. "I don't want to do it," said the
woman. "I just don't believe in you any more!" Before Matt could reply, she hung up.
Another call was received. "Listen to Radio Cairns, will you," said the anxious voice of his
wife Amber, calling from her workplace. "They're all talking about you."
The Reverend switched on his radio. He was just in time to hear a caller say:-
"...and it is obviously the Reverend, the one they reckon is the sky pilot from Bentley
Park. He's just like all the ministers of religion. They preach God and all this bullshit
and then they go and do the opposite...."
"Isn't it just amazing," said the shock jock. "Where do all these creeps come from?
They creep out from under logs, like maggots, whenever there is an election, with all this publicity about how good they are, how decent they are, how they're going to clean up the city, and lo and behold, we find out, often through a sheer fluke, that they are nothing but
reprehensible, hypocritcal, self-indulgent liars. I've said this before, but you wonder,
you really wonder at the mental health of some of these people. That they truly
believe they can live a double life and not be found out? I mean, you do wonder
if they shouldn't be declared criminally insane or something?"
"Oh, we have another caller. I can't believe, I mean I just cannot BELIEVE
how this issue has fired up the community," said the shock jock, not bothering to hide his elation.
It was another regular talk-back caller, "Reg of Redlynch."
"Mate," said Reg, "I wondered about this reverend bastard, the very minute I
heard about him. I mean, as you said mate, he sounded just too good to be true. You
got it right again mate. And once again, all has been exposed. Lucky we found out in
good time. I reckon those voters tomorrow should do the right thing and vote for
Cush's man, Bud Yarrow. Now that's a bloody good bloke there, mate, as you have
always said."
The Reverend Matthew Harmon phoned desperately to contact the shock-jock to
defend himself. The receptionist at the radio station told him he was not welcome to
comment on the program.
..........................................
Across the city of Cairns, sitting back in a leather arm chair at one of Cairns' most
expensive hotels, Bud Yarrow, the Conservative Party candidate for Division 2, laughed
at the callers on the radio program.
Tomorrow would be a shit-in for him. On Saturday night, he would be COUNCILLOR Bud Yarrow.
.............................
In a small masonry unit in Mt Sheridan, another person was istening with great
interest to the radio call-back program. Doug Dunnysmore, the third candidate in
Saturday's by-election was sitting inside his PVC pyramid in the lotus position,
energising himself for the big day tomorrow. He had covered his entire body with
iodine and would paint himself again all over that night following a good spray with
magnesium. Iodine and garlic, liberal amounts of it, were his choice of weapons against
the never ending army of germs proliferating in the community.
He had to be very careful, going out in the community tomorrow, amongst so many
people all of whom carried trillions of little nasties with them.
He had a supply of face masks to take as well as surgical gloves, hand washing liquid
and bottles of disinfectant spray. Mentally he went over his stash.
He was sure he had enough to prevent any of the nasties getting through.
Even so, he knew he would have the usual nightmares that night, about armies of
germs flying through the air, crawling on the ground and in his clothes, and jumping
off people.
He concentrated on his election campaign. He had hand delivered his campaign letters into
as many letter boxes in Edmonton, Hambledon, and Bentley Park as well as his own
neioghbourhood of Mr Sheridan, as he possible could. He was proud of his campaign
promises and his slogan:
GET TOUGH WITH DUNNYSMORE
The going is tough for everyone now, that's why you need
DOUG DUNNYSMORE
A tough man for Division 2
Doug, if elected, will work hard to bring back
Capital punishment
Public floggings
The public stocks
Abolition of juvenile courts
Mandatory micro-chipping of criminals
Yes, Doug Dunnysmore thought. He had done real well. As he lit up a nice slim joint,
took a couple of puffs, he thought dreamily of the pleasure he would have watching a
public flogging. As a Cairns Regional Councillor, he would insist on having a front row
seat at all the public floggings on the proviso of ensuring "Quality Assurance". Yes,
he was big on Q.A. because people didn't like seeing their money wasted any more.
They wanted value, and by golly, so did Doug Dunnysmore. No half measures, or
gentle slaps on the backs any more, but a real flesh ripping, bloody, screaming, whip lashing
FLOGGING! Oh yeaaaaaaaah................
To be continued...............
Monday, 4 July 2011
THE SKY PILOT FROM BENTLEY PARK - PART 2
"You know we got to get rid of this fucken happy clappin' Jesus lovin commie do-gooder,"
Cush said as he stretched back in the chair in his Mayoral office while downing a few drinks with Deputy Mayor Horsey.
"Too fucken right," agreed Horsey. "See on the TV news last night that he led this big
demonstration in Melbourne against the war in Afghanistan, like a fucken Pied fucken
Piper."
"Piper!" Cush roared, leaning forward and pushing some A4 pages across the table to Horsey.
"Don't fucken talk to me about fucken Pipers!"
"Hey, what's this then? Horsey asked as he picked the sheets up and quickly scanned them.
"Dom fucken Piper and that weasel little poofter, Bomboniere are both resigning from the Party and from my Council team," Cush snarled back.
"Jesus bloody Christ, that's all we fucken need," Horsey replied angrily.
Cush sat up straight in his chair and swung round to face Horsey. "We got to look at our numbers in the Council now. If this Jesus lovin' commie prick wins Division 2 on Saturday and if old Phil has another heart attack or something, then we're stuffed. And you know we got so much on the agenda. We got those applications from Stringfellows waiting, they want to open up a Club in Cairns and one in Port. Then we got a buyer for those bloody Council pensioner cottages we want to flog off, and we got a buyer for that Whitfield land."
Horsey nodded thoughtfully. Phil Browne, the Councillor for Division 4 had already had open heart surgery and the general understanding was his prognosis was not good. Time was ticking away for the seventy-four year old Councillor who had made it plain he did not want to retire.
If he had another attack and if the Reverend Harmon won the coming by-election, the Cush team could very well lose control of the Cairns Regional Council. Horsey couldn't bear to think about it, not with everything going so well. There would be a special "commission" for himself and Cush for approving the Stringfellows "Gentlemen's Clubs", as well as some nice tidy sums from the sale of the Council owned land at Whitfield, and the sale of the pensioners cottages.
They were onto a good bloody thing alright.
"So, what are we gonna do about this fucken sky pilot then?" he asked Cush.
Cush gave a dirty chuckle. "Throw a bit of pussy in his face. You know what those "reverends" are all like. They can't resist it. Don't worry about the community. These days the Church is so bloody full of paedophiles and sexual deviates that the community will believe anything."
Horsey laughed. Cush was right. People were all too willing to instantly and without question believe the worst about men of the cloth.
"I reckon I might be able to get one of the strippers from The Red Plum to run along to our good friends at "The Cairns Post" and tell them a few stories about the good Reverend," Horsey grinned.
Cush bellowed his approval. "How much ya reckon?"
Horsey did a quick calculation. "Probably about five thou each. We got to give the girl a chance to leave town quick smart after she's been down to "The Cairns Post" and set up somewhere else in Australia or preferably overseas."
Cush nodded. "No worries. You arrange the payment and I'll pay you back later. And when the fucken sky pilot from Bentley Park is dog shit, then we got to do something about Dom fucken Piper. We'll make him wish he'd never been born mate."
It didn't take Horsey long to find his girl. "Dilly" from The Red Plum was an addict, and, as Jaye the Manager of The Red Plum had told him, she would do "anything for money."
"You give me money now," demanded Dilly as Horsey explained what he needed her to do.
"I will give you two thousand up front," Horsey replied as he handed over the notes. "And the remaining eight thousand when we see the article about the Reverend Harmon appear in the pages of The Cairns Post either tomorrow or the day after."
"So," said Dilly, "I go to Cairns Post in Abbott Street, I know the building and I tell boss man there that this man of God, this Reverend man, he is good customer of The Red Plum and that I have sex with him couple of times."
Horsey nodded. "That's all you have to do," he smiled.
Dilly smiled too. It was the easiest money she would ever make!
As Horsey left The Red Plum, Dilly freshened her make-up and pulled a short latex mini skirt over her g-string to make the journey to The Cairns Post building two streets away. Before leaving however, she couldn't resist bragging about her windfall to someone, so she sent an SMS text message to her girlfriend, Candy, who was also a stripper at The Red Plum. "Just got two thousand dollar give to me! Lucky me!"
Unknown to Dilly, Candy and her addict boyfriend Jimbo were standing immediately out front of The Red Plum when Candy received the SMS message. They were both discussing how Dilly could have received such a sum of money when they spotted Dilly walking up the side of the building and turning to walk down the street. Jimbo only had eyes for her shoulder bag, swinging jauntily at her side as she strutted along on her high heels.
Motioning Candy to stay put, Jimbo slowly took off after Dilly. In the end, Dilly didn't know what hit her. She came to, with a throbbing egg shaped lump on the back of her head at the back of some empty buildings. Her shoulder bag lay opened beside her. She cried as she saw the money, the precious money, was gone.
.....................................................................
The Reverend Matthew Harmon leaned back on the chair in his study at his modest home in Bentley Park. His campaign was going extremely well. Oh, after his television appearances he had had so many people come forward and volunteer their services for his campaign.
All his campaign materials, corflutes and handbills had been provided by people working in the IT industry locally. Volunteers had joined him as he door knocked most of the homes in his Division 2. He had been gratified with the response of the people. Most people agreed that Cairns desperately needed "cleaning up". Yes, people were worried over the rising level of organised crime and the growing drug trade in Cairns. Yes, people wanted Council to provide more for the sporting and community services. Yes, people wanted Council to build another Civic Theatre.
He had so many volunteers to man all the voting booths on Saturday, that it was all arranged. Amber even had ladies volunteering to make sandwiches for the poll workers, and to cook for the celebratory victory that evening. Matt Harmon smiled. He had never ever wanted a public profile, prefering to do God's work quietly and without public recognition. However, events had just well, happened and he ended up sort of caught up in it all, like being part of a fast moving tumbleweed.
However, he had to be honest to himself and to God. He liked it! He had thoroughly enjoyed leading the anti Afghanistan war demonstrations and he enjoyed making the speeches. He thrived on the TV appearances. Oh some of the Church hierarchy had made some protests about religion and politics shouldn't mix, but generally speaking the Church was not interfering. The Socialist Workers Party were pleased that his high profile was assisting the party, and party organisers were reporting that membership was steadily increasing.
He was looking forward to taking his seat in the Council Chamber, representing Division 2 in the Cairns Regional Council. He had so much to fight for. His first priority would be to raise the issue of re-instating Council funding for community sporting groups. As a former Taipans basketballer, the Reverend coached junior basketball, and there was an ugent need for more facilities for the juniors in Cairns. The Reverend intended making that a pet project. Above all else however, the Reverend was determined to close down the "Gentlemen's Night Club" industry which had bloomed under the Cush Council, and restore decency to the city. He still smarted whenever he heard Cairns referred to in the Southern media, as the "sex capital of Queensland" or "sin city". It wasn't the Cairns he had grown up in or the Cairns he wanted!
He didn't doubt that the people of Division 2 supported his views.
All he could do now, was to wait these last few days. He knew he was up against a high powered campaign with massive amounts of money being thrown behind Bud Yarrow's bid for the Divisional seat. As well, the local media were openly and enthusiastically supporting Bud Yarrow. Each day it seemed the local "shock jock" on radio Cairns was informing people that it was a "great honour for people to have a luminary such as Bud Yarrow prepared to give up his valuable time and energy to represent the people...". Not only was it disgusting slobbering sycophancy, but it was a brazen denial of democracy, the Reverend reasoned.
Individuals should be honoured to be chosen by the people to represent them, not the other way around. However, the shock jock on radio Cairns had his supporters. The Reverend laughed out loud as "Boyd of Redlynch" came online:
"Oh mate," began Boyd, on the talk-back show, "you're right. The people of Bentley Park and so on are just so lucky mate, so lucky that someone like this Bud Yarrow is prepared to, I mean he is prepared to give his time, as you say. I mean the man knows how to make money for himself, so he could be out there making a few more million, instead he's prepared to give it all up and come and work for the people. He sounds just the man we need."
"Boyd of Redlynch" was followed by "Marva" a regular talk-back contributor who spoke with a heavy European accent. "Marva" was in tears. "Oh I like this Mr Yarrow mans very very much. He is a rich mans so he knows a lot I thinks. Why we have to have election on Saturday when this communist Reverend might get elected? I come from communist country. We shouldn't have any election. Our wunnerful Mayor, His Worship Mr Cush should just appoint this Mr Yarrow. Having elections is helping the communists. I know this..."
"I agree, I agree," interrupted the shock jock. "Why are we bothering with this election? Why are we wasting all this money on filling one single vacancy on the Council? You wonder at the monkeys in charge of things. "We all know Bud Yarrow who is incidentally a close friend of His Worship the Mayor, Colonel Ken Cush, who is the best Mayor this city has ever had, I might remind you all, this Bud Yarrow is without doubt, the best man possible to represent Division 2. Why are the fools going ahead with a stupid election then?"
The next caller was "Wayne from Mt Sheridan".
"Because mate," said Wayne in a very firm voice, "this is a democracy where people decide who gets elected, not bloody suckholing arsehole shock jocks.............."
"Oh oh, we seem to have lost Wayne from Mt Sheridan," growled the shock jock.
The Reverend Matthew Harmon laughed so hard he almost fell off his chair.
To be continued..............
"
Cush said as he stretched back in the chair in his Mayoral office while downing a few drinks with Deputy Mayor Horsey.
"Too fucken right," agreed Horsey. "See on the TV news last night that he led this big
demonstration in Melbourne against the war in Afghanistan, like a fucken Pied fucken
Piper."
"Piper!" Cush roared, leaning forward and pushing some A4 pages across the table to Horsey.
"Don't fucken talk to me about fucken Pipers!"
"Hey, what's this then? Horsey asked as he picked the sheets up and quickly scanned them.
"Dom fucken Piper and that weasel little poofter, Bomboniere are both resigning from the Party and from my Council team," Cush snarled back.
"Jesus bloody Christ, that's all we fucken need," Horsey replied angrily.
Cush sat up straight in his chair and swung round to face Horsey. "We got to look at our numbers in the Council now. If this Jesus lovin' commie prick wins Division 2 on Saturday and if old Phil has another heart attack or something, then we're stuffed. And you know we got so much on the agenda. We got those applications from Stringfellows waiting, they want to open up a Club in Cairns and one in Port. Then we got a buyer for those bloody Council pensioner cottages we want to flog off, and we got a buyer for that Whitfield land."
Horsey nodded thoughtfully. Phil Browne, the Councillor for Division 4 had already had open heart surgery and the general understanding was his prognosis was not good. Time was ticking away for the seventy-four year old Councillor who had made it plain he did not want to retire.
If he had another attack and if the Reverend Harmon won the coming by-election, the Cush team could very well lose control of the Cairns Regional Council. Horsey couldn't bear to think about it, not with everything going so well. There would be a special "commission" for himself and Cush for approving the Stringfellows "Gentlemen's Clubs", as well as some nice tidy sums from the sale of the Council owned land at Whitfield, and the sale of the pensioners cottages.
They were onto a good bloody thing alright.
"So, what are we gonna do about this fucken sky pilot then?" he asked Cush.
Cush gave a dirty chuckle. "Throw a bit of pussy in his face. You know what those "reverends" are all like. They can't resist it. Don't worry about the community. These days the Church is so bloody full of paedophiles and sexual deviates that the community will believe anything."
Horsey laughed. Cush was right. People were all too willing to instantly and without question believe the worst about men of the cloth.
"I reckon I might be able to get one of the strippers from The Red Plum to run along to our good friends at "The Cairns Post" and tell them a few stories about the good Reverend," Horsey grinned.
Cush bellowed his approval. "How much ya reckon?"
Horsey did a quick calculation. "Probably about five thou each. We got to give the girl a chance to leave town quick smart after she's been down to "The Cairns Post" and set up somewhere else in Australia or preferably overseas."
Cush nodded. "No worries. You arrange the payment and I'll pay you back later. And when the fucken sky pilot from Bentley Park is dog shit, then we got to do something about Dom fucken Piper. We'll make him wish he'd never been born mate."
It didn't take Horsey long to find his girl. "Dilly" from The Red Plum was an addict, and, as Jaye the Manager of The Red Plum had told him, she would do "anything for money."
"You give me money now," demanded Dilly as Horsey explained what he needed her to do.
"I will give you two thousand up front," Horsey replied as he handed over the notes. "And the remaining eight thousand when we see the article about the Reverend Harmon appear in the pages of The Cairns Post either tomorrow or the day after."
"So," said Dilly, "I go to Cairns Post in Abbott Street, I know the building and I tell boss man there that this man of God, this Reverend man, he is good customer of The Red Plum and that I have sex with him couple of times."
Horsey nodded. "That's all you have to do," he smiled.
Dilly smiled too. It was the easiest money she would ever make!
As Horsey left The Red Plum, Dilly freshened her make-up and pulled a short latex mini skirt over her g-string to make the journey to The Cairns Post building two streets away. Before leaving however, she couldn't resist bragging about her windfall to someone, so she sent an SMS text message to her girlfriend, Candy, who was also a stripper at The Red Plum. "Just got two thousand dollar give to me! Lucky me!"
Unknown to Dilly, Candy and her addict boyfriend Jimbo were standing immediately out front of The Red Plum when Candy received the SMS message. They were both discussing how Dilly could have received such a sum of money when they spotted Dilly walking up the side of the building and turning to walk down the street. Jimbo only had eyes for her shoulder bag, swinging jauntily at her side as she strutted along on her high heels.
Motioning Candy to stay put, Jimbo slowly took off after Dilly. In the end, Dilly didn't know what hit her. She came to, with a throbbing egg shaped lump on the back of her head at the back of some empty buildings. Her shoulder bag lay opened beside her. She cried as she saw the money, the precious money, was gone.
.....................................................................
The Reverend Matthew Harmon leaned back on the chair in his study at his modest home in Bentley Park. His campaign was going extremely well. Oh, after his television appearances he had had so many people come forward and volunteer their services for his campaign.
All his campaign materials, corflutes and handbills had been provided by people working in the IT industry locally. Volunteers had joined him as he door knocked most of the homes in his Division 2. He had been gratified with the response of the people. Most people agreed that Cairns desperately needed "cleaning up". Yes, people were worried over the rising level of organised crime and the growing drug trade in Cairns. Yes, people wanted Council to provide more for the sporting and community services. Yes, people wanted Council to build another Civic Theatre.
He had so many volunteers to man all the voting booths on Saturday, that it was all arranged. Amber even had ladies volunteering to make sandwiches for the poll workers, and to cook for the celebratory victory that evening. Matt Harmon smiled. He had never ever wanted a public profile, prefering to do God's work quietly and without public recognition. However, events had just well, happened and he ended up sort of caught up in it all, like being part of a fast moving tumbleweed.
However, he had to be honest to himself and to God. He liked it! He had thoroughly enjoyed leading the anti Afghanistan war demonstrations and he enjoyed making the speeches. He thrived on the TV appearances. Oh some of the Church hierarchy had made some protests about religion and politics shouldn't mix, but generally speaking the Church was not interfering. The Socialist Workers Party were pleased that his high profile was assisting the party, and party organisers were reporting that membership was steadily increasing.
He was looking forward to taking his seat in the Council Chamber, representing Division 2 in the Cairns Regional Council. He had so much to fight for. His first priority would be to raise the issue of re-instating Council funding for community sporting groups. As a former Taipans basketballer, the Reverend coached junior basketball, and there was an ugent need for more facilities for the juniors in Cairns. The Reverend intended making that a pet project. Above all else however, the Reverend was determined to close down the "Gentlemen's Night Club" industry which had bloomed under the Cush Council, and restore decency to the city. He still smarted whenever he heard Cairns referred to in the Southern media, as the "sex capital of Queensland" or "sin city". It wasn't the Cairns he had grown up in or the Cairns he wanted!
He didn't doubt that the people of Division 2 supported his views.
All he could do now, was to wait these last few days. He knew he was up against a high powered campaign with massive amounts of money being thrown behind Bud Yarrow's bid for the Divisional seat. As well, the local media were openly and enthusiastically supporting Bud Yarrow. Each day it seemed the local "shock jock" on radio Cairns was informing people that it was a "great honour for people to have a luminary such as Bud Yarrow prepared to give up his valuable time and energy to represent the people...". Not only was it disgusting slobbering sycophancy, but it was a brazen denial of democracy, the Reverend reasoned.
Individuals should be honoured to be chosen by the people to represent them, not the other way around. However, the shock jock on radio Cairns had his supporters. The Reverend laughed out loud as "Boyd of Redlynch" came online:
"Oh mate," began Boyd, on the talk-back show, "you're right. The people of Bentley Park and so on are just so lucky mate, so lucky that someone like this Bud Yarrow is prepared to, I mean he is prepared to give his time, as you say. I mean the man knows how to make money for himself, so he could be out there making a few more million, instead he's prepared to give it all up and come and work for the people. He sounds just the man we need."
"Boyd of Redlynch" was followed by "Marva" a regular talk-back contributor who spoke with a heavy European accent. "Marva" was in tears. "Oh I like this Mr Yarrow mans very very much. He is a rich mans so he knows a lot I thinks. Why we have to have election on Saturday when this communist Reverend might get elected? I come from communist country. We shouldn't have any election. Our wunnerful Mayor, His Worship Mr Cush should just appoint this Mr Yarrow. Having elections is helping the communists. I know this..."
"I agree, I agree," interrupted the shock jock. "Why are we bothering with this election? Why are we wasting all this money on filling one single vacancy on the Council? You wonder at the monkeys in charge of things. "We all know Bud Yarrow who is incidentally a close friend of His Worship the Mayor, Colonel Ken Cush, who is the best Mayor this city has ever had, I might remind you all, this Bud Yarrow is without doubt, the best man possible to represent Division 2. Why are the fools going ahead with a stupid election then?"
The next caller was "Wayne from Mt Sheridan".
"Because mate," said Wayne in a very firm voice, "this is a democracy where people decide who gets elected, not bloody suckholing arsehole shock jocks.............."
"Oh oh, we seem to have lost Wayne from Mt Sheridan," growled the shock jock.
The Reverend Matthew Harmon laughed so hard he almost fell off his chair.
To be continued..............
"
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