An urgent phone call from New York today has me off to Tasmania, seconded at the last minute to the UN’s team of international observers monitoring the elections. Since it was officially listed as a third-world country after the Labor/Greens axis seized power in 2010, additional oversight is needed to ensure the Tassie elections are free and fair. There goes the weekend.
I haven’t been to the Apple Isle after leaving in disgust in 1983 when the Franklin dam was stopped in 1983 and am not really sure what to expect. Before leaving I manage to get in a quick call to Larissa Waters, apparently one of the few sane Greens senators (according to Turnbull,) asking for tips.
Despite the propaganda from Murdoch press, Larissa assures me Tasmania is stunning; a pristine paradise, the envy of the world, she says. And I will absolutely love it. After the Labor/Greens axis finally stopped the logging and dismantled the wood-chip mills we have returned it to how nature originally intended, she says: Green! Its deep, verdant valleys, snow-capped mountains and thunderous waterfalls have been restored to their former glory, she explains – back to how they were before that Cook prick came along and ruined it 200 years ago. Fauns, satyrs and nubile nymphs swim side-by-side together with playful dolphins in crystal-clear mountain streams, never-before seen species of whales frolic near the shores, and Thylacines cavort freely throughout the Island’s lush forests. And the people are always joyous, she smiles: joyous and content! At the end of their bountiful working day, they put their quilt-making aside and go out to sit under the stars, where they roast marshmallows over new-growth-forest-certified wood fires and enthusiastically recite Bob Brown’s speeches backwards to each other until they are blue in the face, before gently nodding off to sleep.
I can’t wait, I say, resisting the urge to hang up on her.
Before finishing Larissa offers to send me a sample pack of Christine Milne’s newly-released boutique range of gender-neutral arm bracelets. Stylishly and lovingly crafted from the teeth of the (now extinct) Gunns Board of Directors, they also double as a garrotte for use against stray loggers.
Turnbull was wrong. In a hurry to leave, I agree.
And, one thing, she adds finally. When around that horrible Giddings woman, no sudden movements.
Before I leave I pack an extra UN helmet, expecting the worse.
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