A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away...............
Postcards From The Edge of Oblivion			Little Johnny "The Howard" didn't want to play with those dirty, smelly Refee kids, (besides Archbishop "He Smeared Braso on my Bottie Sir" told him he'd go blind); so he asked his uncle Sir Philip of Ruddockland to exile them to the Womering Pit of Eternal Queue Jumping. Uncle Philip was sick of Little Johnny's whining, so he had come up with a plan to get rid of those nasty Refee kids once & for all. Now he knew the Ruddocklanders were very religious: they were mostly devout Aussies. Aussieism is a religion peculiar to Ruddockland whereby the metaphysical realm known as "Sportz" represents the only true reality. Aussies shun all forms of intellectual endeavour, (even those required for the adequate use of their own language) & are dedicated to complete & utter ignorance & disdain of anything not "Aussie". However, this later precept produces no problem for them, as they actually believe that the whole world is in effect "Aussie". Uncle Philip could barely contain his glee at the simplicity & efficacy of his plan as he addressed the nation. He told the Ruddocklanders that a hoard of nasty, dirty, smelly Refees were coming with an armada of warships armed to the teeth with the evil blasphemy of "Soccer" to unravel the blessed fabric of the Holy Trinity of AFL, NRL & the Super 12.  The Ruddocklanders were filled with righteous indignation." We have to protect the borders of the Blessed Realm"... "Oh if the sacred tabernacle of the MCG were to be desecrated", the people cried with one voice. A new line was even added to sacred medal ceremony hymn.   "Ruddocklanders all let us rejoice, Ewes all are young and free. We killed off all them Abories, Now we'll start on those Refees" "Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, Oi, Oi, Oi"   The fact that; this "armada" was in reality: a leaky rubber dinghy carrying one octogenarian invalid washer woman (who, it should be stressed in uncle Philip's defence, he believed to be the reincarnation of Saladin), three starving orphaned amputee children with no legs, & a goat, was not lost on Uncle Philip. He would have to come up with a good cover story or he wouldn't get his Amnesty International Commemorative Bumper Sticker. Oh well, if things went really pear shaped he could always count on his Triple K Final "Pacific" Solution Calendar. However, he was not concerned about his fellow Ruddocklanders, he had confidence in them: or rather, the generations of careful social engineering that had produced the slow witted, gullible, people that he now ruled. Oh how he thanked the great thinkers & prophets of Aussieism: Barassi, Bradman, Wayne Carey, Anthony Mundine, Crackers Keenan, John (Sam) Newman, Rex Hunt (Yibberdee Yibberder), Robert Diperdemenico et al, as he pondered the scope of this achievement. In this, he was correct to be suitably self-satisfied. To take a people with educational & other opportunities the equal of anywhere & mould them into a people defined by their ignorance is no mean achievement, second only to the mythical cornucopia of the United States of Alienation from reality. "We have to send the SAS (Special Arshole Squad) immediately, we have credible evidence that a midget submarine has been spotted in Sydney Harbour" The leader of the governing "Liberal with your Civil Liberties" party proclaimed to the parliament. "I thought that was in 1943", said the leader of the opposition "Labor the Point" party (An extremist splinter group promoting the radical & subversive concept of life outside Sportz).   "Poofter soft on boarder protection!" was the cry in unison from the Aussies.   Uncle Philip let the furore continue momentarily & when he sensed the time was right rose to his feet. The chamber fell silent as they saw that he had unsheathed the sacred Gray Nichols of democracy. "The honourable gentleman from the opposition bench has gone too far this time, he must suffer the ultimate penalty, bring in the Indigenous 400 metre runner". This was a most horrible punishment, reserved for only the most heinous of crimes. The poor unfortunate would be placed in a soundproof room with a recording of the above runner's unique & unfortunate foray into the world of sports broadcasting outside the boarders of Ruddockland. It was said, her commentary at the Silly Olympics for the BBC so bewildered an unsuspecting British public, that their switchboards were inundated with outbursts of outrage, panic, & expressions of sympathy for the poor girl. Once suitably restrained, they are compelled to listen to her athletics commentary ad nauseam. Most are reduced to a gibbering heap within an hour or so, reaching an almost catatonic state within a few hours. It is not uncommon even years later to have recurrent nightmares about incomprehensible sentence construction. In fact grown men have been known to put out their own eardrums rather than endure any more of Ms "I'm not an Aborie now am I you white bastards'" insights. (Not sure if that's her real name as, lets face it, at least half her family were "liberated".) The "Talking" room (as it is known) was not originally soundproofed; however, it soon became evident, that this posed an unacceptable risk to innocent bystanders, as overhearing even a small portion of our little indigenous princess's dialectic could engender the onset of psychotic symptoms in susceptible individuals. * * * Thus, is all decent extinguished in Ruddockland…a subtle mixture of Sportz & violence.
Cry "Havoc!" and let slip the Sniffer Dogs of war
The Tampon Crisis
The Final "Pacific" Solution
New Migration Zone "Over There"
Platopus Republic
The Womering Pit of Eternal Queue Jumping.
"Sorry" Seems to be. . . . . . .
Second Star on the right hook straight on to Mundine
Hansard is a tale told by an idiot..
* * *
The Old Fart Wars Saga
The Pants Off Menace
Coalition - Attack of the Clowns
Old Fart Wars
The Coalition Strikes Back
Return of the Refees
* * *

For those interested in uncovering the complex intellectual tradition that underpins the metaphysical construct that is "The Aussie" you could try such revered tombs as:

Cry "Havoc!" and let slip the Sniffer Dogs of war