THERE’S a bloke at the club who’s got three cars.
He’s the only one who drives them. He’s got a wife and three kids, but the partner rides a scooter and the three children aren’t old enough to drive.
He sat through three beers to justify why he needed such an extravagant motorcade in his carport.
That the number of beers equaled the number of cars was merely a coincidence, but it explains the time he took to evade the embarrassment of being called out as a victim of desire.
The first of his vehicles, a ute, took care of the odd jobs, he’d say. Rubbish to the dump, helping neighbours move house – that sort of thing. What a guy.
The second, a small car, was the runabout which accommodated the smells and furballs left behind by a rather large dog.
The third, a luxury convertible, was his toy – a pleasure vehicle used for recreational drives on sunny days to nice places.
The evidence checks out. However, I’ve seen him driving the convertible with the dog in the passenger’s seat. His argument was less than watertight.
But he’s been conditioned by a government that can’t function without spin doctors to cover their tracks of societal destruction.
The Queen P manages to find more zeros to put at the end of an increasing Olympic Games transformation of our nearest capital city that includes grand stadia and no doubt mountains of fireworks.
Meanwhile, we’re left wondering where burgeoning population growth will rest their weary heads over the next 10 years amid rent and social housing crises.
We’re even more perplexed about how they’ll get there. Bus drivers want more money, fast rail has ironically been downgraded to “faster” rail, and we’re in search of land to host bigger batteries to offset the rising cost of fuel.
Electric vehicles are great. Great for the environment, and great for people like me who feel hoons whose Friday night “broom broom” noises should be stopped by nail guns triggered by civilians.
Police can’t possibly be everywhere there’s a moron fish-tailing through otherwise quiet streets.
My answer is logical. Issue every corner block householder with the authority to set off a remote that fires barbs into the tyres of anyone over the neighbourhood speed limit.
While I may seem to digress, the bloke at the bar isn’t all that different to our governments.
He sits there knowing people don’t give a brass bed pan why he wants three cars, but he continues to find ways to win votes from a beer-infused audience that three cars is normal behaviour.
Let him be him. It’s his money.
But that’s not the case when a government throws spin at a voting public, expecting us to believe that it won’t be long now.
Soon, very soon, we’ll have more hospitals, more schools, more homes, more public transport, more money, more jobs.
Better lifestyle, better health, better knowledge.
At no point will a political statement say “we’ve mucked things up a bit” because that would be to show vulnerability, and people want strong leaders who don’t make mistakes.
Like the bloke at the bar who really shouldn’t have bought that second car.
Like whoever it was that said $550 off our power bill would be enough to buy loyalty in a world where allegiance is preyed upon by insurance companies, banks and brokers as an excuse to bleed us dry.
Or like the bleeding hearts who turn their noses up at the villains of our communities who take a weak justice system as a sign to commit more crime.
Is that what people want?
Or do they want a sprinkling of humility in our leaders, an ounce of compassion and signs of empathy that make us feel we’re being heard?
Hey Wanda, I know you’ve just been to yoga but I can’t find my blood pressure pills. Any ideas?
