Tag Archives: humour

Will Merv Take a Shot at Keelty’s Old Job ?

11 Friday Feb 2011

Posted by in Emmjay

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Speculation was rife at the Pig’s Arms last night when Merv spent an inordinate amount of time in the Pig’s Legs having Glenda attend to his dial.  The word in the front bar is that Merv intends to throw his hat into the ring as the new head of the APF and that he’s preparing for an interview.

His old mate Clarrie (Claret to Merv) from the now disbanded Division 21 (Liquor Licensing) team dropped a bombshell when he pointed out the unusually large number of former members of the force currently sheltering in the comparatively placid pool of licensed publicans.

Punters at the Pig’s have understandably started to join the dots and are coming to appreciate the nature of the cosy relationship that Merv has with the Pig’s resident bikie gang of geometricians – the Hells Angles.

Merv, on the other hand has started to wear his sunnies inside and on rainy days at night, claiming he has conjunctivitis, but Manne has sprung him doing little speeches into the mirror about strategic initiatives in the war on terriers (Helvi take note) and importation of boogie bags.

Danny said that he saw Tom Peterson – former ABC morning anchorman sipping a pink drink and leafing through a presentation copy of  “How to Win Friends and Avoid Dropping Important People in the Shit” with Merv.  Merv was nodding quite a lot and looking surprised with his new-found knowledge.  Clearly Merv is banking on being able to emulate Keelty – wrangling the press corp and enjoying the kind of control that only expert spinners like Peterson can bring to a turning pitch.

Nobody is buying the story Merv put to Danny – that his urgent demand to have the Jag serviced and tanked up – was for a pressing need to visit to the national Gallery to see the new soft scuplture exhibition.

The consensus in the Pig’s Arms was that Merv would be really a great candidate for Keelty’s job, considering his vast experience watering down things at the Pig’s and because his inadhesive qualities rival granny’s Teflon wedge pans.

Our thanks to Indonesian Press for the loan of their photo of Keelty

Inner Monologue and the Words I Spoke

08 Wednesday Dec 2010

Posted by in Gregor Stronach

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By Gregor Stronach

What the fuck is wrong with you? Seriously… I need to know.

“Adult to the city today, thanks mate… Yep… $3.40? It’s gone up again? Wow…”

I’ll tell you what’s wrong with me, if you like. Maybe it’ll help you open up. Maybe my telling you what’s bothering me will assist you in getting in touch with your inner gripe. Awaken the Muppet within – quit being such a Kermit. Fire Miss Piggy for sexual harassment. Let Rolf know that you can tell he’s not really playing the piano when he sings.

“Is anyone sitting here? No? Do you mind? You do? Oh… okay… I’ll stand then.”

So… what’s wrong with me? I’ll tell you. I’ll need to move closer to you… my voice is husky. I have been shouting. Lying face down on the bed and screaming into my pillow until all hours of the night, muffling my tortured sobs and hiding the rictus of pain from the world at large. I’m trying to think. Be quiet – I’m trying to think here. Cease your wriggling, quiet your moaning. I’ll loosen your bonds when you understand. You’ll be free to go, the instant you agree. Nod once. Let me know…. And hush. You’re here to learn. Relax and let me in.

“No, sorry – I don’t have any spare change. However, I do have the employment section from today’s paper. You can have that instead. I don’t care what you do with it… I know you can’t eat it. But you can use it to find a job, can’t you?”

I didn’t mean to cut you, you know. I didn’t mean to let my blade slip as I used it to caress your face – your alabaster face, glistening with sweat. I can smell the fear coming off you in waves. I can hear your ragged breathing around the gag I placed in your mouth.

“Morning Julie! How are you today?… Good! Me? I feel fine… No really… I’m okay. I didn’t get much sleep last night. But I’m okay…”

Stop crying. I don’t want to see tears. I want you to know. That’s all… I just want you to know. You hurt me once, you know… I don’t think you remember. It was 30 years ago, now. I was so small. So innocent. Defenceless. And you took advantage of that. You took something of mine that I can never have back.

“Hello?… Yes… Yes… well, I’d be delighted to attend, thank you, Simon. When’s it on?… let me check my diary and get back to you, but I think we’re off deadline then. Sure… I’ll email you and let you know. Thanks mate! Bye. Yep, Bye.”

So you could probably fathom that I’m a bit angry about that. I know, I know… it was a long time ago. And you probably felt some guilt after you raped me. Who knows… did you? Nod if you did. You did? Really? So how about now? Do you remember who I am now? You do? Excellent… I expect that what I’m about to do will hurt quite a bit… you may want to prepare yourself…

“I’m off to lunch now – anybody want anything while I’m downstairs? No?… I dunno what I’m having. Probably a salad or something. I’ll see what’s there. Back soon!”

There it is! Please – stop shouting. I can’t understand you when you scream. By golly, that does look painful, doesn’t it? And I certainly didn’t expect it to bleed that much. Do you want to hold it? Cradle your manhood in your hands and mourn its loss? Here… press it against your torn flesh, staunch the bleeding a bit. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll wake up soon. See that this is all a dream. But dreams aren’t supposed to hurt, are they? Dreams aren’t supposed to bleed. But my dreams do… my dreams bleed, red like the setting sun. Awash with shades of crimson.

“Yeah, mate… that’s nearly done. I’ll put it on the server once it’s finished and you can have a read. Let me know what you think.”

So what do you think now? Do you think what you did is okay? Did you ever expect that I’d find you one day? Because I’ve been looking for you, you know. Every day, I look for you – and I find you – and I truss you up like a prisoner of war, and every day I think of new and darkly exciting things to do to you. But you don’t remember: so let me remind you. Yesterday, I raped you the way you raped me, but I used a knife. Today, I took your manhood. Tomorrow, I’ll feed you your own kidneys. The day after that, I’ll take a soldering iron to your eyes. After that, I’ll snap your bones, one by one, until you’re a helpless bag of worthless meat.

“I’m off home, now… I don’t think, so mate – if I have one beer now, I won’t stop until bed time, and I’ve got some work to do when I get home. But thanks – I’ll come to the pub with you another time. Sure thing… see you in the morning.”

Oh look at you… cowering there, all blood and shit and tears. How does that feel? Do you feel good? I do. I feel power. I feel the power you took from me 30 years ago. I feel it like you felt it when you had me. When you dragged me kicking and screaming from my childhood. I can see it in your eyes – you understand it now. So, I’ll keep my promise. I’ll let you go – just like I did yesterday, and tomorrow I will hunt you down again. You cannot hide from me. You have no power over me. I will kill you. One day. But not today. Not yet.

“Dear God. Please look over me while I sleep. I pray, dear Lord, that one day you let me find the man I am looking for. And I pray that you grant me the wisdom to forgive. But to never forget. Just once, God… just once I want to look into his eyes and ask him “why?”. I promise I won’t hurt him. I promise you that. I couldn’t hurt anyone. I ask this in Jesus’ name. Amen.”

First Published by http://rumandmonkey.com/ before most of their contributors were toliet trained

Of Porkies and Kiddie Porn

22 Tuesday Jun 2010

Posted by in Gerard Oosterman

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Is it not amazing that certain people are deemed to be beyond being human and possess a quality that not even the purest of cherubic angels could possibly ever own?  Not just most times, but twenty four hours seven days, and over their entire lives. There was Justice Einfeld being caught speeding and telling a porky that most of us are more than capable of and probably doing most of the time. Yet, he was jailed for being what we all are, fallible human beings. The fact of being a retired superior High Court Judge, a former President of the Human Rights and Equal Opportunities Commission and a Unicef Ambassador for children did not stand in the way of his punishment.  In fact, that was precisely why he was given such a harsh sentence.

There we are all cheerfully filling in our tax forms telling lies that will probably give us a nice little earner in refunds, hiding a few grand here and there in dodgy trusts or splitting income with our friendly stumpy Cattle dog  ‘Bitem’. All very legit, as they say.

 Good onya mate, Bob’s your uncle.  But for a mere bagatelle of a porky, poor Marcus in jail, hopefully with enough wisdom in contemplating the irony of it all.

Lately there has been remarkable diligence on the part of a blood hounding mob of do-gooders sniffing out scents in the discarded underpants of ethics, never of just ordinary folks like us, but only of those in the public eye.

Some time ago, the minister for Defence, having enjoyed a paid trip to China, compliments of a friend, apologizing for his lapse of memory or simply having forgotten it all, was being pursued by batteries of video cameras raised and aimed for his face from journalists with the well practised sensitivities of belt sanders. 

Where do the expectations come from that people in the limelight or of high position are somehow better or above the rest of us? There is the French President, divorcing his wife in full flight, taking a new one and being rewarded by a surge in popularity.  At the G8 Summit Conference he was allegedly filmed drunk. Such panache!  Are the French so much more sophisticated and tolerant and we in Australia so hypocritical?  Could a prime minister have gotten away with the’ flair and nous’ what the French President Nicolas Sarkozy seems to have managed so far?  Remember the uproar about young Kevin at the nightclub incident in the US? Where was our pride in our PM being one of us?

Is it also perhaps a fact that others elsewhere are more capable than us, of allowing even people in high places still to be human? The French President, after all, divorcing, taking another partner and sometimes getting pissed is what most of us intrinsically do as well.  Why the hypocrisy here when it involves only people in the limelight?
 
Those that get caught with child porn on their computers are also invariably ‘normal’ as well. From ABC employees to judges and magistrates, police officers, priests and prosecutors, and even ‘stranger danger’ educators. They all line up, worldwide, being charged, with having downloaded and/or spreading child porn. Now, if ‘normal ‘people are all so feeble and weak to fall prey to doing bad things at times, why are we always pretending those things are being done by others? Is it not true that we are all capable by just a hair’s breadth of doing unacceptable things? We can’t say that people caught are all seemingly respectable  pillars of society and absolutely ‘normal’ and condemning them, without also allowing and accepting that we are all capable of doing those bad things as well.

In the period of Queen Victoria, there were estimated to be over a hundred thousand child prostitutes in London alone. It is a fair bet, that those that abused children then were the judges, teachers, religious clergy, cabinet ministers, and regarded then as ‘normal’ as those now that are now caught with kiddie porn on their computers. Not that long ago, we stood by with terrible things being done to refugees, for years on end. The indefinite detention without trial of one of ours for many years, D.Hicks. The humiliation of Dr.Haneef and Cornelia Rau.  Basic and blatant breaches of human rights. All evil things done under our noses and with the apparent approval of most of us ‘normal’ people, without as much as a single prosecution so far. Where were the bloodhounds then?

Next time we hear or read about bad things, small or large, it is more likely to be ’us’ rather than ‘them’. We are ‘normal’.