Your mate my mate Joe Chip gurgles under water: The Revolution is Nigh
Your mate is having a Wet Wet Wet moment (and why not? Is it possible to condemn anything Scottish? With the possible exception of Glasgow Rangers. And Adam Smith. And John Knox. And the Highland Clearances, they were bad. And the suppression of gaelic, though that was done by the sassenachs of course. Your mate and Edgar Edgarberger had a perfectly pleasant evening recently at the barn that is entitled “The Sydney Entertainment Centre” listening to the dulcet tones of Jim Kerr and a backing band describing themselves as ‘Simple Minds’ [and of course DEVO, but I am unaware of any Scottish connection there, though of course there must be one]. Except that while Edgar was enjoying himself condemning the fashion sense of all those round him, I was contemplating the upcoming death of my dog, and berating myself for the bourgeois indulgence of pet ownership).
I seem to have digressed. Yes, a Wet Wet Wet moment. I can feel it in my fingers … and in my toes … the signs and portents are all around me … Australia is being haunted by a spectre … the spectre of communism (very different to the Spektor of Phil, and the antithesis of the spectre of Trevor). After the Bulldogs lost the Australian Rugby League grand final, the workers have been discontented to quite a slight degree, and our 152 silver medals (our national slogan: “close enough is good enough, so fuck off”) at the London Olympics did not satisfy their false god of sport. The government has tried to salve their wounds with the true opium of the masses, more poker machines at bus stops and schools, and compulsory gambling (not anti-gambling) ads during the televising of all sporting events, but it is not working. Climate change has denied all Australians their birth right – a hot Christmas! We do not wear jumpers in the summer. We do not look for the blankets we put away in that mad moment on 1 September (the official start of spring – don’t get me started on that one.
Yes, the Revolution being historically inevitable, each moment brings it closer, so the coming new year is so much more likely to see it in than the last one. I’m so excited. And not that good Revolutionaries can be superstitious, but I must confess an amazing coincidence which should fill you with confidence: 2013 happens to be my lucky number- and Edgar’s too! Amazing! That of course may explain why we haven’t won lotto yet – the numbers only go up to 44. Fascists! WHERE IS MY BEACH WEATHER?