Sunday, July 1, 2012
His family taken from him by godless gay marriage advocates, 'Mad Tax' Abbott was left to fend on his own, save for his loyal pup 'Pyney' and his whiskey priest confessor, Pell. Today, was 'C'-Day. Carbon Day.
Out of petrol, Tony abandoned his car - a lime-green Subaru Forester (his wife had favoured the ochre, but that is a whole other story). The road outside Canberra was quiet, the vacuum punctuated by stray screams from isolated hamlets as the Carbon Tax wreaked its hellish havoc.
Whyalla was gone. We knew that would happen. So too was Wollongong, Wagga Wagga and Woden. Clearly the cursed tax was working backwards through the alphabet. So there was time to save Villawood. But maybe not.
Sensing a showdown with the ultimate evil, Tony wracked his brain, trying to recall his schoolboy Latin for the phrase that epitomised his predicament - rigor mortis? in vino veritas? coitus interruptus? Nothing fit. But he knew if he didn't stop this cursed tax, this pox on the nation, this blight on humanity, he would have failed himself and his maker. And that was before he got to Pell.
Then, a voice. A banshee howl, though somehow reassuring in its strangulated nasality 'Axe the tax! Axe the tax!' He turned to see a woman, a ruddy-faced large woman, yelling from the window of a semi-trailer - the lead vehicle in a dust-churning convoy clearly headed for Canberra. "Jump on board, handsome," she called, swinging the door open. "We've got some work to do."
Grateful for the company, Tony picked up a panting Pyney and clambered aboard. He held out his hand to the Wagnerian stranger. "Tony," he said, offering his trade-mark lopsided grin. "Gina," she replied, leaning forward and nearly smothering him with her ample bosom.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"All the way," she replied.
TO BE CONTINUED....
Posted by Mr D at 4:23 PM