The Principal of Bash Street Primary School was at her wits end until finally, salvation came to her and her long-suffering educational community.
For years, no Secondary School had been foolish enough to accept the enrolments of the Bash Street Liberal/National Coalition miscreants, who had been rascally led by that perennial pugilist, Tony “Harry” Abbott.
Art work removed at artist's request.
Then, on that heaven-sent day, the Principal got a phone call from the Vice-Chancellor of the newly refurbished Sydney University who, as part of her “Building Education Revolution”, said she was willing to enrol the gang as probationary first-year undergraduates.
“Halleluiah!” whispered the Principal to herself, “there is a god after all!” So, she packed the worthless crew off to Sydney, wishing the Vice-Chancellor the best of luck, as she was going to need it.
True to form, it didn’t take long for “Harry” Abbott and the rest of the Bash Street Kids to start playing up. As well as picking fights with all and sundry, they ran amok in lectures.
Art work removed at artist's request.
The bad reputation of the Bash Street Kids gang is spreading rapidly across the campus of Sydney University.
As well as the leader, “Harry” Abbott, the gang is comprised of a number of other colourful characters. There is : “Fatty” (for obvious reasons) Hockey; also “Erbert” Sheridan, who, even though he wears glasses, takes them off when Harry is around, so that he can say he didn’t witness the shenanigans he gets up to.
Also in the gang is Troy “Plug” Buswell, soon dubbed as “Prof. Plug, Chair of Sniffology”, as he likes to hang around after lectures and sniff all the front seats in the lecture theatre that had been occupied by the female students. And closely related to “Prof. Plug” are the evil sisters, Sophie “Plugella” Mirabella, and Julie “Plugena” Bishop.
Another member of the gang is CanDo “Wilfred” Newman, from Queensland. Wilfred is very recognisable as he is the one who wears his jumper right up to the bottom of his nose. It is said he does this as a means of hiding his identity, as he realises he really is “on the nose”. At times, moreover, Wilfy is also known, for hiding his neck and lower face under his jumper, as “Tortoise”.
And, another member of the Bash Street Kids gang is Malcolm “Cuthbert Cringeworthy” Turnbull. However, to say that Cuthbert is a bona fide member of the gang is stretching the truth a bit. The others only tolerate him because he is filthy rich and they can open up a tab in the refectory in his name. Also, Cuthbert is, unlike the other members of the gang, a dreadful nerd who, upon entering the university, had volunteered to be on the editorial committee of the student paper, “Honorable Swots”. Cuthbert, therefore, soon ceased to be even a peripheral player and was relegated by the gang to the category of “one of them”.
And, incidentally, as part of the ecologically-friendly dimension of her ground-breaking “Building Education Revolution”, the Vice-Chancellor ordered all the brick walls in the university to be replaced with wafer-thin ones made from recycled egg-cartons, filled with insulating pink batts.
For his part, “Harry” Abbott isn’t the least bit impressed by this Vice-Chancellor. Not only is she a girly chairthing, she is also into all this lefty pinko crap. She is, in Harry’s eyes, so effete, he dubs her, “Madame Butterfly”.
It didn’t take Harry long, therefore, to sus out how easy it is leave his impression on the university murals. His favourite party-piece is, garbed in his trademark boxer shorts, to put his fist through a wall. And to enhance his growing reputation for being the epitome of masculinity, he wears, under his boxers, a specially-reinforced metal jockstrap, fashioned for him by none other than the formidable Man of Steel, John Howard.
So, to cut a long story somewhat shorter, the Bash Street Kids have been on a roll, causing havoc, with “Harry” Abbott especially in great biffo form, punching holes in walls and giving the frightened staff and students inside the mocking “be prepared to meet thy doom” sign-of-the-cross or the insulting middle-finger salute.
However, after a while, the Vice-Chancellor has had enough. She has decided that the namby-pamby pastoral care approach is secondary to the efficient smooth running of the university. Immediately, she orders in the Maintenance Crew and issues them with explicit instructions.
Meanwhile, the Bash Street Kids are meeting at their usual table in the refectory. As normal, the room, except for the gang members, is empty. Even the serving staffs behind the counter have fled, so the gang are helping themselves to free choc milks and caramel slices.
“Harry” Abbott: Righto…listen up, you lot…here’s the plan of attack for today…First, we head down to the Chaplain’s place – I need to get my confession heard – and then we make our way, via wrecking a few lecture theatres, to the Vice-Chancellor’s office…
[A frenzied chorus ensues: “the bloody back-alley bitch!”; and, “yeah, let’s make an honest woman out of her!”; and, “let’s Whyalla the joint!”; and, “yeah, let’s slag and chaff bag the cow”; and, “can I go for a flying fox run between her ear-lobes?”
To quell the manic mayhem, Harry, imperiously, raises his hand. Immediately, and Pavlov-dog-style, there is silence. Then, slowly and deliberately, Harry rises to his feet, shouts “Let’s play ball!” and the gang takes off, at a raucous rate of knots, out of the refectory and down the corridor, with Harry issuing liberal doses of punches to sundry walls as he progresses.
As planned, the Bash Street Kids gang’s first port of call is the Chaplain’s office, so that Harry can get his confession heard. Upon reaching the Chaplaincy, Harry notices the green light over the confession box is lit, so he punches a hole in the door.]
Cardinal Pell [exasperated]: For God’s sake, Harry…I wish you would stop doing that…Every day you come to confession and every day I have to get the door replaced…And, as for that ridiculous-looking jockstrap you wear…it really is so immodest – you make Blackadder’s most bulbous codpiece look like a concave mirror…
[For the sake of the peace of the sacrament, Harry humours George and removes his jockstrap.]
Cardinal George: And anyway, Harry, I think you are abusing the true spirit of the sacrament…You can’t just turn it on and off like a beer tap in the Student Bar, y’know…
Harry: But…but…but…your eminentship…isn’t that the whole point of confession – I rock up to parrot my sins and you dish out the absolution, so that I can inflict Groundhog Day again on all my hapless victims…heh…heh…
Cardinal George: Erm…Harry…it doesn’t work that way, I’m afraid…as my esteemed predecessor. St Augustine used to say, genuine contrition is necessary for the sacrament to be efficacious…
Harry (very peeved by this stage): Now listen up, me bucko…you have two choices – either you grant me absolution every day, or I punch your lights out and you end up like that troublesome priest, Thomas Becket…which is it?
Cardinal George: I absolve thee, in the name of the Father…
[So, Harry Abbott reckons he’s now free to create some more guilt-free mayhem, and the Bash Street Kids continue with their nihilistic charges down even more corridors, with Harry punching even more holes in walls. Eventually, they reach Prof. Roxon’s lecture theatre. Harry delivers his customary punch through the wall and middle-fingers the illustrious professor, who, understandably, is fit to be tied by such a lack of respect. Whilst, inside, the fear-ridden students compete for corners to cower in, Prof. Roxon strides defiantly over to the door, opens it forcibly and eye-balls Harry.]
Prof. Roxon: Harry Abbott!!! What do you mean by this outrageous disruption of my class!!! And, furthermore, you are enrolled in this course – the lecture commenced half-an-hour ago – why are you late?
[Not having much experience of being challenged by an assertive female, Harry, muttering “that’s bullshit”, turns on his heel and the gang continues on with their rampage down the corridors. Shortly, they encounter a group of cleaning staff who are chucking bags of refuge down a garbage chute adjacent to the Staff Canteen. Upon witnessing the rampaging gang pillaging and punching their way towards them, the cleaners, utterly panic-stricken, dive, in search of succour, head first down their own chute. Some of the garbage bags thrown into the chute, however, contain food scraps from the canteen. The super-sensitive olfactory glands of “Fatty” Hockey are immediately put on notice.] “Fatty” Hockey: Mmmmmmm…fooooooood!!! I smell a snack coming on…I think I’ll just make a detour down the chute and sample some of those tasty morsels down there….yummmmmm…
“Harry” Abbott (very annoyed): Fatty!!! Don’t even think about it!!! We’ve got a job to do here, which instead involves making a dog’s dinner of the Vice-Chancellor’s office and then taking over the whole joint…
[Fatty, however, insists on having a free feed down the chute and persists in mutinously back-chatting Harry, who loses it and delivers an almighty punch to Fatty’s gob, hitting him so hard he falls into the opening of the chute, disappearing immediately into the void therein.]
Harry: Right…that’s settled his hash once and for all...And he should be quite at home down there…after all, he was always fond of black holes…bwahahahaha…
[Like a band of vicious Vikings who have overdosed on their pillaging pills, the remaining members of the Bash Street Kids gang wreak further havoc on their way to their final destination – Madame Butterfly’s Vice-Chancellor’s office. However, as they proceed, the membership of the gang gradually dissipates.
For instance, after “Harry” Abbott has punched yet another hole in a lecture theatre wall, he looks through the little glass window in the door and spots a student inside who is confined to a wheelchair, and is breathing oxygen through two tubes inserted in his nostrils. Harry turns to “Wilfy” Newman, aka TheTortoise, who is still on the nose with his jumper pulled right up.]
Harry: Righto, Wilfy…you tortoises have sharp beaks…you can rejoin us later on our rampage…but, in the meantime, I want you to wait here until the lecture’s over, and when that malingerer in the wheelchair comes out, use your beak to slice through his oxygen tubes…hee…hee…
“Wilfy” Newman: You reckon he’s not pure of heart, boss?
Harry: Got it in one, Wilfy, old son…and no better man than you to complete this assignment…after all, with all your experience of cuts, you’d put Jack the Ripper in the shade…heh…heh…
[Also, Julie “Plugena” Bishop comes across a photocopier in a corridor and, as usual, is hooked. Similarly, her equally nasty twin, Sophie “Plugella” Mirabella goes AWOL – she reads a notice on a lecture theatre door advertising a class on “The assets of the elderly”. Without a second thought, Plugella rushes in, kicks a poor unfortunate, very-mature-age, student out of her front-row seat, and is all ears.
Moreover, in another rush along a now-devastated corridor, Greg “Erbert” Sheridan loses his specs, runs into a pillar and knocks himself out. Also, having punched multiple holes in the walls of the hated “Wimmin’s Meeting Room”, clearing it of its shrieking incumbents, Harry then proceeds on his merry way, oblivious of the fact that Troy “Plug” Buswell has broken ranks and stayed behind in the now-empty Wimmin’s Room, sniffing the recently–occupied seats voraciously.
So, by this stage, “Harry” Abbott has reached the Vice-Chancellor’s corridor, not realising, however, that he is the sole standing member of the Bash Street Kids gang. Suddenly, the door of the Vice-Chancellor’s office opens and out strides Madame Butterfly herself, red hair aflame, nostrils flaring so ominously and widely, they would make Krakatoa look like the Sea of Tranquility.]
Vice-Chancellor: Harry Abbott!!! You just stop this instant!!! I’ve had a gutful of your antics!! Clean out your locker and remove your sorry carcass from the establishment!!! You and your Bash Street Kids can go straight back to primary school – that is, if they’ll have you…
Harry (confidently): Get her, guys!! The Vice-Chancellor’s office is ours for the taking…Phone a friend, bitch…we’re in charge now…heh…heh…
[Harry, however, suddenly realises his mates are as plentiful as pork chops at a Jewish barbeque. Undeterred (“she’s only a woman after all”, he thinks to himself), Harry aims a punch at the Vice-Chancellor’s head, which he is sure will result in her turning into a gibbering girly wreck, lying pitifully on the floor, crying for mercy.
However, The Vice-Chancellor sees the attempted punch coming a mile off, side-steps adroitly, and Harry’s fist lands on the wall adjacent to her office door. Little did Harry know, but when the Vice-Chancellor called in the Maintenance Crew earlier, they had replaced that section of the wall with bricks, instead of the previous fragile walls made of egg cartons and pink batts. Harry emits such a cry of anguish and pain, he sounds like Twiggy Forrest after he heard about the fall in Fortescue Metal’s share price.
As Harry skips in excruciating pain from one foot to the other, holding his broken and bleeding knuckles, the Vice-Chancellor lifts her knee expertly, and decisively, into Harry’s nuts. He crumples to a pathetic heap on the floor. By this stage, moreover, the University Security Squad has arrived.]
Vice-Chancellor: Just in time, guys…take him down-town…heh…heh…
Harry (in a hushed, barely-audible tone): Huh…this is your Dirt Unit, I presume…
Vice-Chancellor: Nah, mate…you’re the only piece of garbage around here…
Harry: I still can’t believe I’ve been out-smarted by a girl…boo…hoo…
Vice-Chancellor: Too right, mate…shit happens…you should have realised it would be a big mistake to stuff around with me…As I say, “mess with Madame Butterfly – you get my knee!”…heh…heh…
