Tony Abbott’s ‘STOP THE WASTE’ campaign against the Public Service is unrelenting. From the bureaucrats in Queensland to the fat cats in Canberra, its open season as far as Tones is concerned. However, one of the top public servants in Australia, Nic ‘Macca’ Machiavelli, is not taking the sniping lying down. Macca has invited Tones to spend a day in his office, to see how hard working the Public Service really is.
On the day in question, Tones, as usual, dons the Lycra and peddles in. By the time he reaches Macca’s establishment, he is very hot and sweaty. With a cordial welcome, Macca invites Tones into the office that he will be occupying during the day. All it has is a desk, two chairs and a computer. Also, a door leads to an adjoining office in which Macca resides. Macca says he will leave the door ajar, in case Tones requires anything.
Tones: Yeah, mate...thanks for inviting me along today...Oh, and by the way, are you Canberra’s version of Chief Sitting Bull?
Macca: Erm...whaddya mean, Tones...I’m not with you on this one...
Tones: Why, its easy, mate...in the States they’ve got Chief Sitting Bull...here in Canberra I’m presuming you’ve got you own version – Chief Shiny Bum...haw...haw...
[Macca laughs along at Tones’ lame joke and smiles to himself, as it is he who plans to have the last laugh at the end of the day. Macca asks Tones does he want a nice cup of tea.]
Tones: Huh, thought as much…you blokes are certainly living up to your reputation…But, I’ll tell you what – just as I’m parched after my big ride in, I’ll take you up on your offer…white with no sugar thanks…
[Macca excuses himself and sticks the kettle on in his room next door. He puts a tea-bag in a mug, and while he waits for the kettle to boil, he adds a few drops of liquid Mogadon. He pours the boiling water and a dash of milk, gives it a good stir, and brings it into Tones, who slurps it down thirstily. Macca returns to his office.]
Macca (to himself): The Mogadon will take effect pretty quickly…this looks like the beginning of a very interesting day…heh…heh…
[After a few minutes, Macca looks in, expecting to see Tones in a near-comatose state, a piece of ripe fruit ready for picking. However, he is shocked by what he sees – Tones is still his hyperactive self, lying underneath the desk, doing push-ups whilst lifting the desk with his back as he does so. “Whew”, says Macca to himself, “It looks like he needs a lot more Mogadon”. Macca boils the kettle again, and this time pours the rest of the bottle into the mug. He brings it into Tones, who again consumes its contents immediately. This time, the Mogadon overdose has its desired effect and Tones slumps down into the chair, staring blankly at the computer screen. “Great”, says Macca to himself. “Now for part two of the plan”. This entails Macca re-jigging Tones computer so that he can type on his computer in the adjoining room and make the text appear on Tones’ computer. The scene has now been set for turning this tiny part of the Canberra Public Service into LITTLE BRITAIN with Carol Beer]
[In order to show he could multi-task, Tones/Carol had, the day before, arranged for three people to come along to Macca’s joint, so that he could individually discuss some issues with them. The trio are: a marketing guy from a swimwear company; one of the managers from the bank where Tones got his mortgage; and Tony Windsor.]
[So, Macca shows in the first appointment, a Mr W.E.L. Hung from the Big Balls Budgie Smugglers Co. Macca retires to his office next door, but keeps the adjoining door ajar.]
W.E.L.: Good morning, Mr Abbott...it is my great pleasure to put a proposition to you – one that you cannot refuse...
[W.E.L. waits for a reply from Tones, but he continues to stare vacantly at the computer screen. W.E.L. is a tad disconcerted but, nevertheless, proceeds with his marketing pitch.]
W.E.L.: So, Mr Abbott...we would be delighted if you would be the public face of our new line in male swimwear...It would definitely give you a lot of positive publicity, raising your profile, and maybe even increasing your atrociously-low Preferred Prime Minister ratings on Newspoll...So what’s your decision, Mr Abbott? [At this, Macca types on his keyboard and the text appears on Tones’ screen. As usual, Tones stares at it blankly.]
Tones: The computer says No...
W.E.L.: Whaddya mean, “No”!!! You won’t ever get an offer like this to increase your support with females and gays, Mr Abbott!! So, there’s nothing else for it but for me to make the offer instead to Ban Morrison...he would look well posing in his budgies with a Nauru guano pit as background...[cough]
[W.E.L. gets up and exits. On his way out the door, W.E.L. nearly knocks over Macca, who is bringing in a person from Tones’ bank to discuss his mortgage. Fortunately for Tones, it is not the formidable District manager, Mr Stop-the-Debt, but a junior manager, Cuthbert Postletwaite, who is sent along to get a bit of on-the-job experience. Just by chance, Cuthbert is also a member of the Young Liberals. Macca introduces them to each other and retreats to his adjoining room, again leaving the door open.]
Cuthbert (gushingly): Oh, Mr Abbott...I am such a big admirer of yours...I think you are a great Leader of the Opposition...
[At such faint praise, but still mightily under the influence of the Mogadon, Tones can do no more than glare at this half-wit.]
Cuthbert: Well anyway, Mr Abbott...I believe you want us to waive your payments until such times as you become Prime Minister and get a whacking great new big pay rise...Well, I can do a lot better than that, Mr Abbott...Because you are a great friend of Big Business, our bank is prepared to write off completely your entire debt...Just sign here, Mr Abbott...
[Again, Macca doesn’t miss his cue, and types on his keyboard. As before, the text then appears on Tones’ screen.]
Tones: The computer says No...
Cuthbert: Whaddya mean, “No”? We’re prepared to waive your $700,000 mortgage and you say, “No”!! How ungrateful you are, Mr Abbott...And now you can jolly-well pay up like all the other losers on our books...Good-day sir!! [cough]
[Alone again, Tones can’t believe what is happening to him. “What sort of living nightmare is this anyway?” he laments to himself. “There I was, ready to get free publicity as swimwear model, and the total redeeming of my enormous mortgage and I said, “No” to both. What’s wrong with me?” At this, Macca reappears, this time with Tony Windsor, who wants to see Tones urgently. Again, Macca absents himself into his adjoining office.]
Tony W: Now look here, Tones...this malarkey of yours is just going to have to stop...With your present carry-on, there’s absolutely no way the Indos are going to back you and give you a free pass into the Lodge...We need to get down to brass tacks here...Are you going to continue repeating all those idiotic three-word slogans...and keep up this denialist global warming mumbo-jumbo...and continue to hint you might un-cremate WorkChoices...and keep saying, “bullshit” all the time...and talk endlessly on that silly boatphone...and condone the labelling of Julia Gillard as a “back alley bitch”, “a Gaddafi look-alike”, and a “Ju-Liar”...and walk out of press conferences...and say that New Zealanders aren’t foreigners, for flip’s sake!!!
[Tones can’t believe his luck. “If this dopey computer is going to be consistent, it will say, “No” to all of these and Tony Windsor will be placated enough to get his mates to join my team. Bingo!!!” Macca, however, has heard everything, and types on his computer. Tones looks at his screen and a loud despairing scream emits from the very bowels of his being.]
Tones: The f**king computer says Yes!!!!!!!
Tony W: Well, that’s it, then...it looks like the Lodge is a lost cause for you mate – it’s been nice knowing ya...[cough]
[Tones holds his head in his hands, wondering what the hell he is going to do now. After a while, he lifts his gaze to his computer screen.]
Screen: And you thought Julia Gillard was full of Machiavellian bastardry? Mate, she’s not in the same league as me...Shit happens, eh? [ cough]...
