The Blowfly, early on Australia Day morn, had a hunch that something big was going to happen.
I managed to plant myself on the top of the back seat in the PM’s white car---the one with the pretty flags---- just behind where the PM normally sits.
We dropped the PM at the inaugural National Emergency Services awards and she was feeling quite chipper.
I was having a nice little kip when hell broke loose.
The door flew open and rather than her usual demure entrance the PM landed heavily in the car, quickly scrambled across to my side and then Tony Abbott fell in beside her.
Both were short of breath and a little dishevelled.
Julia initially was feeling her head because of the dull thud that I’d heard as she was pushed into the car. It must’ve hurt!
Tony said nothing for a little while.
Then he looked at her with a beguiling smile and said: “Did I do that?”
The PM wasn’t smiling. She was still mourning her lost shoe.
Another moment’s silence.
“Aboriginals are a little precious about their Tent Embassy,” Tony finally murmured , semi-apologetically.
“Well Tony”, she said, “you’ve been a little precious yourself. All this rot about the Prime Ministership that you reckon should’ve been yours. You should understand them if anyone could.”
Tony did not answer immediately. He was contemplating as suburban Canberra raced past him.
“Julia, I just told them that they should move on.”
“Like you’ve moved on Tony?” she drawled.
“Always calling for a new election! Moving censure motions! Uttering 3 word slogans! You’re a Rhodes Scholar for god’s sake!”
“Take your own advice and move on,” the PM re-iterated.
Tony was thinking. Before he could open his mouth the PM started laughing.
“If only they could see us now, Tony?”
“Two poms! Refugees from the ‘old dart’ sharing a car together because you opened your big Catholic mouth”.
“At least I believe in God, Julia-----and in marriage!” he exclaimed.
“And where has it got you, Tony. Father Bob has a greater following than you!”
She continued laughing.
“And both of us now being steadily undermined by our previous leaders,” she said more pensively.
“There are some days , Tony, when I wish that Wilkie had fallen for that $1billion hospital you promised him and Windsor had bought your backside.”
Tony was starting to smile.
“You don’t mean it, Julia. You wouldn’t have missed the Royal Wedding for anything.”
“Margie liked your hat by the way,” he added.
“And poker machine reform would have generated no traction with me,” Tony muttered. “Most of the problem gamblers are your voters. And I don’t know how I could’ve worked with that ego-maniac Wilkie. He hated Howard. And ‘little Johnny’ was my hero.”
“So here we are, Tony. Two refugees from Pommie-Land forced to flee from people whose land we stole. Maybe we should consider going back?”
The Blowfly did think that maybe that idea had some merit.
An Australia Day gift that the nation would never forget!
David Cameron, I’m sure, would be eternally grateful! As would many Australians!
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