Wednesday, December 21, 2011

The PM doesn't always get her way!

Last week Julia Gillard and Tim were reportedly taking a well-earned holiday in some mystery location in Victoria.

With the help of the blowfly-telegraph The Blowfly managed to locate them. He can report to you, confidentially of course, on some of the goings-on.

The Blowfly managed to penetrate deep inside the Prime Minister’s holiday boudoir.

You can just imagine me can’t you? Perched on the bedhead awaiting the first opening of eyes. Waiting for a little action to start.

It had actually been a rather disturbed night with Tim and Julia both calling out things in their sleep.

Once I heard Tim call out something about “ I’ll save you from the fashion police Julia. I’m a hairdresser.”

And later in the night Julia was a little restless and she sort of exclaimed “No Kevin! You can’t have it. It’s mine and I’m not letting go yet. If anyone is going to get it then it will be Bill. He’s my little helper now!”

But then peace emerged and both slept fitfully until the willy-wagtails starting announcing the dawn.

It was Julia who stirred first.

Her eyes fixed on Tim who was still away with the fairies.

Your little antennae went up so you could tune into her thoughts.

Isn’t he a hunk?.......and he loves me so much………..how am I going to tell him that I’m not going let him write any more speeches for me………that one at the ALP Conference was a disaster…………..it sounded like one of Kevin’s............ Tim will just have to content himself with fiddling with my hair………..and he does that so well!.............Maggie Thatcher eat your heart out……….”

Then Tim stirred and they looked at each other with those adoring eyes.
Then Julia started giggling.

“What’s funny?” said Tim

“I was just thinking about a joke Barack told me about Bill Clinton. Barack told me that they interviewed 10000 American women about whether they would have sex with Bill Clinton. 86% said ‘Never again!’”, reported Julia as she lovingly touched his brow.

Tim guffawed. “Red-heads are such a hoot”, he thought.

They continued to gaze into each other’s eyes.

“What do you want for Christmas, Jules?” he whispers.

“Do you want a Chinese hit-man to take Kevin out?..........a sex-scandal to embroil Tony Abbott?……….an identical twin for Craig Thomson?……….a Dale Carnegie course for Wayne Swan?……..another Liberal like Peter Slipper?..................a miraculous new source of energy that means you won’t have to proceed with the carbon tax?...................Gina and Twiggy to come out and support your mineral resources and rent tax?.........or do you just want……………….MEEEEEEEEEEE?”

“Oh Warney, Oh Warney you’re such good fun. Did you get those blistered fingers by putting your hand on my bottom?” she laughed.

“Why don’t we get married Tim?” she whispered softly.

“You know the answer Jules. We’ve had this discussion before.”

“We have such a gay time when we are together and you’re dead against gay marriage!”

“Why don’t you take me seriously, Tim? It would set a good example for the populace?”

“Jules, I’m a hairdresser. Give me a break! How can I take anything seriously?”

The Blowfly hopes your holidays are more productive than the PM’s.

No comments:

Post a comment