Barnaby’s return evokes fine memories

With the return of Barnaby Joyce to the second most powerful position in Australian politics, The Bug has dug into its archives for this piece about what the Member for New England put his hand to in his three wilderness years on the backbench.

The following story from several years ago revealed to the world that Mr Joyce had turned author of romantic fiction novels. The Bug understands the bodice-ripper, The Corridors of Lust, did very, very well and is still available in fine book store remainder bins everywhere.


barnaby's book

Despite threats of litigation from former Deputy Prime Minister Barnaby Joyce and the publishers of his pending novel after The Bug was secretly handed the finished manuscript and cover art and promised to run extracts, this publication will not be silenced!

The Bug therefore is proud to offer up to its readers the first of two extracts from the novel, The Corridors of Lust, set in New South Wales politics in the early years of the 20th Century.


What on earth is wrong with you?” Scarlett O’Campion admonished herself silently as she sat in her tiny room in the Department of Agriculture’s five-storey sandstone building in inner-Sydney, not far from the state’s Parliament House in Macquarie Street.

Scarlett looked up the corridor at the closed doors of the minister’s office, and wondered once more why she could not stop thinking about Rhett Bull. After all, they had hardly talked since her appointment as a junior media officer, the lowest ranked person in Bull’s media and PR hub.

He had been kind enough, with words of support, and professional enough as he outlined her role and gave her some rough speech notes to read and comment on.

She blushed once more as she thought of Bull’s large and beefy hands and wondered how they would feel, calloused as they would be from his background as a farmhand, roustabout and chartered accountant, as they explored every nook and cranny of her lithe twenty-four-year-old body.

maude fealy in the early 1900s (2)

What shocked Scarlett most about such carnal thoughts was that she remained, for all intents and purposes, a rather naive Catholic girl at heart. Educated at the Blessed Virgin Mary College for Sweet Innocent Young Girls in Newtown, run by the brutal but fair Hymen Intactica Order of nuns, Scarlett had been equally blessed by few encounters with men in her short life.

Her one and only real boyfriend, George, had at first agreed fully that they should abstain from sexual relations until and if they decided to wed. The relationship hadn’t lasted, but Scarlett once again admonished herself as to why her thoughts about Bull were far more pleasurable than anything she had ever felt from the minor petting she had allowed a fumbling George on their outings to the local pictures.

And why Bull, she pondered again. Sure, he was handsome in a rugged enough sort of way. He was a big man with a ruddy face and a ready and inviting smile. Rather charismatic, the more you thought about it.

She had watched him play rugger down at the Domain with his ministerial colleagues and even his paunch seemed somehow attractive. She blushed again as she thought of that paunch working away rhythmically above her compliant and demanding body and taking her to sexual planes she had never thought possible.

But she was also acutely aware that he also had a reputation as a bit of a ladies man. She had heard his nickname, The Stud, mentioned in whispers around the office. Rhett “The Stud” Bull. She also knew he was married with four daughters and that his family lived out west. She couldn’t fathom why that, rather than disgusting her as it should as a good Catholic girl if the rumours were anywhere near true, somehow seemed to make the damned man even more interesting.

She blushed again as she felt herself moisten at the very thought of him. She hoped her pretty pastel blouse she had bought at Mark Hoy’s to celebrate her new job would hide her now erect nipples, standing proudly like lighthouses in the middle of the dark-brown islands that were her areolae.

“What on earth is wrong with you?” she asked once more. Besides, of what interest would she be to a worldly, man’s man such as Bull. Sure, she accepted she was pretty enough, with lovely hazel eyes that more than made up for a rather squashed nose and thick lips that sometimes made her look sexy yet at other times just a little horsey. Her figure was nice enough and while her breasts were not large, she was confident a future husband would find them totally agreeable as pre-coital playthings in the marital bed.

She squirmed in her seat and a hand pressed instinctively into her lap as thoughts of what it would be like to have Bull in that bed buzzed electrically inside her head and travelled quickly down her spine to further heat those already inflamed hidden parts that make every woman the unique person she is.

She was startled as the man at the centre of those erotic thoughts appeared out of nowhere and loomed over her desk.

“I’ve got some bad news for you, love,” Bull told her. “My main press secretary has come down with the flu so you’ll be accompanying me on a trip out to Broken Hill. We leave Central Station late this arvo so head home and pack some luggage for a week or so.”

Scarlett looked up at her boss and said weakly: “Of course, sir. It will be a pleasure to serve under you for the whole week in any way I can.”

She blushed and felt a fresh flood, not just of emotions, envelop her as a strangely knowing smile developed on Bull’s ruggedly handsome face.

“Why on earth did I say that?” Scarlett admonished herself mentally after he had sauntered away. But she also wondered what might come of such a trip to the far outback of NSW and could she control her lustful thoughts in such close proximity to a man as ruggedly handsome and as infuriatingly interesting as Rhett “The Stud” Bull?

TOMORROW FROM THE BUG ARCHIVES: the steamy trip out to Broken Hill and how heated passions take their lustful toll in the mining town’s famous Palace Hotel late one night.