Fail to unconditionally support January 26 as our permanent day of national pride and reflection and you are so terribly unpatriotic and so terribly un-Australian, dear chap! Or dear girl! Old boy, whatever.
That’s the clear message over recent days from our blokey, happy-chappy prime minister Scott Morrison, ably supported by an Opposition leader shit-scared of losing any unnecessary votes over such jingoism.
While polls suggests a majority of Australians are happy with the current date, it appals me. I’m just grateful that yesterday I avoided built-up Australia where bogans with Aussie flags stuck out of the windows and on the bonnets of their clapped-out cars and utes – vehicles with fuel economies in the old gauge that just about matched their IQs – rumbled around the streets showing how patriotic they were.
As others have pointed out, having as our national day of celebration the date when another country stuck a quarter of our flag on the beach at Sydney Cove and proclaimed it as their latest convict colony is surely head-shaking.
Of even greater impact was the fact that January 26, 1788, symbolises the start of the great fucking-over of the world’s oldest civilisation with an amazing culture and lifestyle befitting our heat-stroked, flooded and fire-ravished land. Calling it Survival or Invasion Day makes a lot of sense to this old, fat whitey. Protests on this day are only going to get bigger and rowdier.
But when you have an election looming and the only two economic policies you’ve pushed so hard for the past three years have been dumped, not just to try to save Fizz’s sorry over-privileged arse but for good by his cowardly and chicken-hearted successor, Morrison waves the Aussie flag about and issues unenforceable edicts about what people at citizenship ceremonies should wear.
In some ways, it makes sense that such an appeal to very average, not-too-bright Australians should come from one of their own. The jingo jerk from the Shire.
This next little rant is not directed at the likes of Tony Abbott, David Flint and little Johnny “aaaah…aaah….nar….aaah….aaah” Howard and their irk. Giggling as they probably are right now, holding hands, wetting their pants and safely tucked away in the silken undergarments of her Maj Queen Betty, they are way beyond saving.
But for others who are still not convinced that Oz needs a new flag, please take in a replay of the national anthem before the ladies final at the Australian Open tennis last night.
All around the darkened Rod Laver Arena were Union Jacks. Well, that’s what stood out. You didn’t get to see many stars. Maybe it was overcast. One of the final shots of the winner’s trophy had nothing but the Union Jack as its backdrop. Rule Britannia!
I’ve grown to hate that flag. It’s hard not to when all you could see on top of the coffins of our fallen Diggers during those ramp ceremonies was that fucking Union Jack. Or when our sports fans run around a cricket Test ground with that fucking Union Jack on their backs.
The Union Jack is a great flag – for Britain. I’m sure it will still look good with the Scottish bits taken out for the Un-united Kingdom.
Yet I remain hopeful – as a fair-dinkum, true-blue Australian patriot even if I don’t think Australia is always right – that a truly patriotic Australia removes it from our national flag before Howard croaks it. Just to let the little cunt know he didn’t win in the end.
Besides, it would be good just to get one over New Zealand for a change.
And don’t get me started on the absolute need for a republic before the Lying Rodent shuffles off this mortal coil. I read in Peter Fitzsimons’ glowing Sun-Herald column today, supporting winter Olympian Zali Steggall’s bid to topple the aforementioned Mad Monk in Warringah, that Steggall “is not convinced, yet, of the virtues of an Australian republic”.
She calls herself a “small L” Liberal” whatever the fuck that means. Let me guess: a “moderate” small ‘L’ Liberal in the mould of Kelly O’Dwyer? Heaven help us all.
While she can be admired on her climate change views – how 21st Century or her! – she has never voted Labor in her life and never will. She’ll undoubtedly spend the entire campaign bagging each and every ALP policy aimed at a fairier, more equitable Australia. She’ll stand up for the unfair tax and property investment lurks and perks enjoyed by many in her electorate, probably even her.
She’ll refrain from blushing when she says the right of politics always manage economies better. She will gladly accept the preferences that flow her way from Labor and the Greens but she won’t return the kindness. When push comes to shove, she’ll back the bloke she says is a relic of the past.
Sounds like a “capital T” Tory for mine and I’d have much preferred Fitzsimons to be urging as many Warringah voters as possible to be backing the Labor and Greens candidates as the best possible way of getting rid of the Mad Monk. Well, that’s the way I would have written the column if I led the Australian Republican movement.
It won’t happen but the Machiavellian arsehole in me thinks Labor should preference Abbott at the next election anyway. At least with him, you know what you’re getting. Someone who thinks it’s only right that our head of state should forever remain some Briton for no other reason than the hole he or she was unlucky enough to have popped out of. At least he’s not wishy-washy about that.
A loyalist, un-Australian, unpatriotic budgie-smuggling-wearing, right-wing nutjob who’ll hang around Canberra stinking up the joint a while longer and, most importantly, doing further damage to what remains of the Liberal brand after the election. He’ll do me.