CUSH AND THE WHITFIELD NIMBYS - PART 1

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?
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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.
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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.
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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."
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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.
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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...............................