Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Guess Who's Coming To Dinner?



ANXIETY’s shadow flickered briefly across the happy couple’s faces as they paused before the door of her parental home, a moment for fear and uncertainty to be dispelled by a quick squeeze of the hand and a peck on the cheek. It can be an ordeal meeting your sweetheart’s dad for the first time, and by now Julia understood that very well indeed. The memories flooded back and she shuddered.

“So, Bruce, what do you do and what are your intentions,” her Dad had asked Craig’s predecessor.

“Now that you ask,” replied Bruce, that lovable scamp, “I’m a thief and a very good one. As to my intentions, with your daughter to do the legal work my intention is to become the biggest thief, and I do mean the biggest, in any ACTU-affiliated industrial organisation. When my members are earning $10 an hour, it’s wrong, just plain wrong, that the bosses should have it all.”

Julia caught her father’s expression and saw his concern. He was older, still snared in that absolutist morality, unable without a little help to appreciate theft as one those relative and subjective things, which is how she had come to see it during the rough and tumble days of university and student politics. Once you grasped that the personal was political, that it was about you and always about you, that was the first step on the path to greatness.

“Dad, what you need to understand is that those of us on the left are working for a better Australia, and that’s the important thing. How we achieve that, well sometimes it can seem a bit odd, but rest assured that when everyone else is stealing, no one is stealing.”

Her dad had smiled at his pride and joy. She was so very good at helping him to grasp the way things worked in these modern times, and it was apparent Bruce had been cut from the same cloth.

“I’ll tell you how much I want Julia as my chief legal officer,” he had said, pausing just a second for effect. “I want you to know I’ve left the wife and kids in Perth to share a life with Julia in Melbourne.”

THE Bruce thing had not worked out, although the new bathroom, front fence and other renovations to Julia’s modest home remained cherished and practical mementoes of the love that might have been. Now it was Craig’s turn to pass paternal muster, and Julia reached once more for her swain's sweaty palm, but this time it was not there.

As the door opened she turned and saw that Craig had stepped back a metre or two, rolled up his trouser legs and placed upon his head a handkerchief knotted at all four corners. She had told him how her folks brought with them in the family’s ten-quid suitcases many of the Mother Country’s cultural customs and funny little ethnic ways, and this was Craig’s attempt to cross the divide of otherness.

Craig was twitching now, surrendering to the convulsive spasms she recognised as his notion of dancing, clearing his throat for what became a song that rose, bass and brave, from that cute little tubby-bubby paunch below his diaphragm.

"Men of Harlech, stop your dreaming,
"Can’t you see their spearpoints gleaming…"

Craig was bellowing, but she could just catch her father’s words.

“Your new bloke is an idiot,” he said.

“No denying it, Dad, but he has the makings of a fine Cabinet minister – and he really does love me.”

“Has he left a wife and kids in Perth as well?”

“No, Dad. In Brisbane.”

The father nodded and once again he smiled. It was wonderful to have a daughter who could see virtue when others might not, the girl who had swotted those uni courses devoted to personal entitlement and the right of a modern woman to make her way to the top of the machine by any means necessary, as so many men before her had done.

He didn’t understand it, the new rules that made black into white and ambition the trump of honesty.

But what he did understand was that Julia understood the new world's new rules and he admired the grace with which she had made honesty, fidelity and truth the subordinate satellites of ambition.

He could never be ashamed of someone who had made herself the mistress of such a thoroughly alien universe.

No, he would never be ashamed. And woe betide anyone who said otherwise.

31 comments:

  1. Do not give up please

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  2. mojo, Unrepentant YankOctober 2, 2012 at 2:18 AM

    Sailing mighty close to the wind, Prof.

    Hell Hath No Fury As A Media Scored.

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  3. I intend to plant a microphone in Professor Bunyip’s study as a service to the community. In time, I will have accumulated his scandalous slanderings of everyone in public office on both sides of the divide. However, we all know it will be necessary for me to publish only what he thinks about conservatives for they are the ones who are truly evil and deserving of censure and public outrage. What’s more, Bunyip will have no objection to the invasion of his privacy because he knows he’s evil. It’s for the common good.

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  4. Excellent work, Bunyip. It's true... because it's funny.

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  5. Nail. Head. Nothing more need be said...

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  6. Prof,
    As you should well know: those affairs were Tony Abbott's fault.

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  7. AbbottAbbottAbbott. All his fault!!!

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  8. Well said Perfesser. That is funniest commentary yet and probably so true. Excellent. Keep 'em coming,Sir!

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  9. The media is full of Alan Jones’ non-apology.

    Why?

    His "apology" reveals him as a silly obsessed old man. Obsessed with himself - that is. Why does any journalist give this shrill old queen the time of day?

    Perhaps they’re suffering from collective amnesia. They’ve forgotten that he was a strong supporter of Pauline Hanson. They’ve forgotten his adventures in London. They’ve forgotten that he made up stories reflecting badly on the ACT police when there weren’t as many trucks at his convoy of no confidence as he’d commanded.

    They’ve forgotten his innumerable brushes with the courts. They’ve forgotten that he was largely responsible for the Cronulla riots. They’ve forgotten his unsuccessful venture into television.

    They’ve forgotten that he makes a living out of hate and vilification.

    Perhaps they should close the loop and ignore him completely. This is standard treatment for an Id-obsessed child.

    It would work with him, I’m sure.

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    1. You could have (for balance - which maybe an entirely foreign concept to you) also have mentioned Jones's charity and good works. But then these do not make it to the media nor does Jones talk about them.
      No I'm not a Jones apologist but I do know of some of his much appreciated and significant charities.

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    2. Homophobia, Numbers?

      Perhaps we are aware of all that, but defend his right to say things we disagree with. Tony Abbot made him say it, anyway, so Jones is exempt from any criticism.

      Actually, obviously Tony Abbot created the environment wherein you could express your homophobia. As Bipolar Nicola said, you light a match, you don't know where the fire might go.

      Incidentally, why are they demanding the Japanese apologise for the Sandakkan Death March? That was also clearly Abbott's fault. As was her affair with Bill Shorten. And the end of that affair.

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    3. "this shrill old queen"

      Scratch a pearl-clutching Lefty hyperventilating about the Right's alleged "hate and vilification" and demanding "civility" from them; find an ugly hateful intolerant vilifying hypocrite.

      Every. Single. Time.

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    4. "They’ve forgotten that he was largely responsible for the Cronulla riots."

      Here is a collection of pictures of Allan Jones's 'listeners'.

      http://www.bing.com/images/search?q=cronulla+riots&qpvt=cronulla+riots&FORM=IGRE#x0y0

      Who Listens to Alan Jones? by C Hamilton:

      The typical Jones listener is an older Australian - 68 per cent are over 50 compared to 37 per cent of the entire population over 14.

      http://www.clivehamilton.net.au/cms/media/documents/articles/Who_Listens_to_Alan_Jones.pdf

      They call Jones 'the parrot', but it's obvious who is the bird brain here.

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    5. Numbers once again is able to unite the blogosphere against him.
      How he never shot himself in the foot as a private is beyond ken.

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    6. Hard to shoot yourself in the foot peeling spuds!

      MN

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    7. Peeling spuds is tricksy; he has the scarred fingers to prove it.

      Cheers

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  10. Funneee! and brave. But let's face it the truth - although unsure whether she was brave enough to take these bozos home to meet mum & dad.
    I would say the ALP needs to tread with care because their unrelenting attacks on TA will see JG's ugly cavorting with married men brought more & more to the fore.
    (The image of duck bum . . .sends shudders through me)

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  11. Poor numbers.....another comrade struck down by the Roman Polanski syndrome.

    In Roman's case the left had to know his politics before they could opine on his guilt or innocent. In Jones's case they have to know his politics before he can be a "shrill old queen".
    Stand by for a withering reply by leftoid old queen retired ex Justice Kirby.

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  12. Fantistic ,
    yet somehow wasted on such a small audience.
    If only Jonathan Marshall could discover this blog and expose its wicked efforts to tne MSM.
    Why don't you invite him round for a private function Prof.

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  13. Anonymous at 9.50. Kirby, David Marr and Bob Brown as a team, should be able to inveigle themselves into the pages of Fairfax without any obstruction. Perish the thought, the ABC could bring us a live performance. A troika of queen bees, preening their stings for a good old bitch session.

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  14. Thank you Prof. A very enjoyable start to the day. (Anonymous as I cant work out how to put my name - Paul- on this.)

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    1. Paul - it took me a while too. After typing in your comment, scroll down in the Select Profile box and hit 'name/URL'. There then will be a box into which you write the name you choose for the occasion. Then hit "Publish' of "Review' as you choose, and then try to get past the numbers and letters.

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    2. Thanks rafiki. Like Paul the Anonymous it had me buggered as well [metaphorically speaking].

      And thanks Prof - priceless

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  15. "this shrill old queen

    Can you imagine the mileage the professional pearl-clutchers at Fairfax and Their ABC would get out of that had it been aimed at David Marr rather than at Alan Jones?

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  16. OhI'm glad someone else has admitted to having trouble - Paul, thought it was this ageing dumb blonde. Tried to make a comment on Saturday, I did something that kept telling me URL doesnt recognise. Had to go and have a flutter on the horses - hello Mr wee Willie Wilkie, not poker machines, horsies. Anyway will try again.
    Your beautiful command of the English language is just wonderful, Professor. Sooo clever. Be careful of sneaky, slithering little known journos, loitering around. For the good of the community of course. Thanks again for the laugh. Incidentally, in case I have to go Anonymous - its delfino

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  17. Professor, you have out pickeringed Pickering. Well done sir.

    "Craig was twitching now, surrendering to the convulsive spasms she recognised as his notion of dancing" - that is one of the funniest things I have read in a long time.

    I'm looking forward to the "Altona wipeout, right there on my TV" - may it come soon.

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  18. Elizabeth (Lizzie) B.October 3, 2012 at 9:10 AM

    In all the revival (and creation) of traditions concerning marriage (the big scenic proposal, the high-spend wedding, the wedding guests financing the honeymoon etc.) there is a stand-out: asking da papa for da lady's hand. It's suddenly got all very formal and very, very much the done thing, even if the lady in question is soon to be a Partner in a law firm (one case I heard of). This is one scenario of course that Julia has never had to concern herself with: it seems no-one has asked either her or her pa for her tender little hand.

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    Replies
    1. "Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?"

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  19. Ho hum. A Tory media outlet reporting on comments made by a Tory shock jock at an event for baby Tories. Who cares? Surely no one would expect wisdom or fulfilment to be the outcome.

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    1. And certainly not humour in the case of the left...

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