David Russell gives a satirical take on a morning in the life of Kevin Rudd.
Kevvie looked at the clothes Mother Theresa had laid out neatly on his bed and did a slow pirouette before the mirror in his boxer shorts. Somehow, they just didn’t seem right. This was the week Blood Sport resumed. The Wire Cage was back in all its ferocious glory and Kevvie couldn’t wait to take charge at the Despatch Box again! But this time . . . this time, things were different. Patrician the Turncoat had been cast out by that bloody Monsignor: he who favoured nude bathing.
Kevvie felt a surge of electricity course through his groin. This was no time for boxers. Today he would wear . . . aagh, why did it all have to be so damned difficult? Man panties, Reg Grundies, what? That bloody Monsignor and his budgie smugglers. How could he? And in public, too? That damned priest had no shame, Kevvie muttered to himself as he took a deep breath and withdrew a sleek pair of jet black briefs from his top drawer. Mother T had bought them for him at Harrods the last time he had a meeting with Hang Dog at Number 10. She had urged him to wear them for a quick walk through Hyde Park and perhaps a step up onto the Soap Box but Kevvie had begged-off, feeling they were too risqué for normal wear.
As he slid them over his admittedly rather fat ankles, Kevvie felt energised. Loins girded, he was ready to take-on the world. Uh oh, that reminded him of the last time he’d felt that way – just before Amsterdam or wherever it was. How could those bastards leave him hanging on a limb like that? He’d gone there fully prepared to show the whole world how the planet could be saved only to have them snub him. And why? He’d already showed them how they could run their economies. A bit of fiscal stimulus here and there and, hey presto, the Global Financial Crisis was reduced to manageable proportions. Just imagine if that dreadful, dreadful, dreadful Winnie the Little Poo and his sidekick The Smirk had still been in charge! What a mess Australia would have been in.
As Kevvie slipped on the rest of his gear he thought of his own sidekick, Way Down Upon The. Funny that he should have the same misgivings about Way Down as the Little Poo had about The Smirk. Kevvie remembered when he and Way Down had been a pair of Nambour nubiles. They’d fallen out, of course, when Way Down had developed aspirations of his own. But Kevvie had shown him. He got to be Doctor Death while his mate Larry the Larynx ran Queensland. Way Down had slipped into the shadows but every Great Leader needs a good money man and Way Down had a way with an abacus so Kevvie forgave him his aspirations. Theirs was, well, an interesting relationship. Perhaps best summed-up by acknowledging a degree of creative tension.
But that didn’t matter this week, there were bigger fish to fry. Slick Paulie had once confided that the greatest pleasure to be had (apart from Mahler, of course) was to fillet your opponents and fry them slowly. Kevvie didn’t really care for the analogy. Didn’t care too much for anything Slick Paulie said, frankly. That old dog had had his day and he should just play with his fob watches and keep his mouth closed. Like that would ever happen! But Kevvie had a few challenges of his own this week. He had to cool down the planet, save the whales, construct a Play School website that wouldn’t crash under the weight of expectations, revolutionise school hall construction, protect Australian womanhood from virginity and exorcise the demons from that damned Monsignor. Lesser mortals might quail but Kevvie felt the tight grip of his briefs and knew he had what it took to show Australia real leadership. He could feel it.
And now, girls and boys, out of respect for national political institutions we will resume our regular programming. Let’s just hope we can get a few more episodes to air before Stephen installs his specially-recruited Chinese censors as part of his NBN. Stay tuned!
David M. Russell is a professional communicator with a passion for good governance. His personal blog can be found at davidmrussell.wordpress.com.
