What a weird dream I had last night. I was in some kind of parallel universe where the PM and all his Ministers seemed to have developed common sense – and cojones.
I was back in Gove at some kind of official ceremony. Ken Wyatt, The Minister for Indigenous Australians was sitting next to me and Galarrwuy Yunupingu was giving a speech about how sick he was of our Constitution.
Instead of sitting there meekly copping all of this, Ken Wyatt was visibly shaking and turning purple.
When Galarrwuy started telling everyone how he was going to throw the Constitution into the ocean, Wyatt jumped up and stormed out, almost knocking over the podium in the process.
A short time later, several armed police showed up – handcuffed Galarrwuy– and wheeled him into the back of a police van telling everyone that they were acting on the orders of the Prime Minister.
The press immediately went berserk and Twitter exploded with outrage. Throngs of activists were howling for Morrison’s resignation. The Prime Minister was due to appear on Q and A that night and things were tense.
Appearing calm on the ABC, the Prime Minister offered to take questions right off the bat. The first person to speak was a typical Aussie transgender dwarf from Somalia.
“Why have you committed this outrage!” zee demanded.
“Because I felt like it” replied Morrison calmly.
“But you can’t F@#K P*SS, SH%T, do that,” screamed a Chinese Tasmanian with a particularly bad case of Tourette’s Syndrome.
“Really?” asked Morrison, cool as a cucumber. “What’s to stop me?”
“IT’S… IT’S… IT’S UNCONSTITUTIONAL!!” Thundered the dwarf and the whole crowd erupted with screams of “WHAT ABOUT THE CONSTITUTION” and “HOW DARE YOU!!!!”
“Ahh,” said the PM slowly, once the crowd had calmed down enough for him to be heard, “but the Yolngu people’s copy of the Constitution was last seen a couple of miles off the coast of Vanuatu. It doesn’t seem like they have much use for it.
Also, I wanted to announce that while we are at it, we will be building a giant Nike factory in Arnhem Land and forcing indigenous children to work there.
At this point the crowd rushed screaming at Morrison who had to be rescued from the studio by armed riot police.
Suddenly, the dream switched, and it was later. I’m not sure, but it felt like about a week later and Scott Morrison was at the airport, on a stairwell leading up to a jumbo jet with his wife.
The cameras were on him and he was speaking calmly and clearly though he seemed to have a bit of a smirk on his face.
“After all the protests and the violence of the last week, I have decided to give in and allow the Yolngu people to once more have the full protection of the Australian Constitution as they have been demanding.”
To all the activists who have forced me to back down, I would like to say that I am deeply sorry for all the fear and resentment I have caused, and I promise never again to try to take away the constitutional rights of the Aboriginal people.
I will now be flying off to play golf for a week in Florida as a guest of my new best friend, Donald Trump, and I look forward to resuming work on my return.”
Morrison then turned and began walking up the staircase. Unfortunately for him however, he had left his microphone on so the crowd could clearly hear him sniggering and muttering something that sounded a lot like “Mission accomplished.”
As he reached the top of the stairs, a space alien came out, smoking a huge cigar. The clouds of smoke he was blowing out of his butt wafted up and set off the smoke alarms which erupted with a hideous shrill beeping.
That sound filled me with a horrible foreboding. I’d heard it before. Something bad was about to happen. It sounded just like – my alarm clock. Goddammit! I was having such a lovely dream. Doh!
