Is the likelihood that it will turn Australia into a complete shit-hole the reasons why Anne Aly supports this push for an indigenous ‘voice’ in Parliament so whole-heartedly? Finding herself still in Opposition, still unable to get her Muzzie blasphemy laws passed: is this Plan B in her grand scheme to really f**k this great country of ours?
Maybe. Nevertheless, I’m pretty sure it was her that I’d spotted in the crowd after my speech at NAIDOC’s ‘Give Us a F*n’ Voice’ Conference in Brissy last weekend.
As the sole white-fellah amongst all those black-fellahs, I’d been politely invited to address the delegates with a typical f*n’ whitey’s (their words) take on the voice matter.
After the obligatory confessional (acknowledging my white guilt and all that unconscious racism shit), I just winged it. At the same time showing the utmost respect and admitting my deep ignorance of indigenous matters, I just waffled on, reciting some of the half-baked gibberish I’d read in The Guardian somewhere. Things like, “80,000 years… Dreamtime… Ancient custodians… Rock-art… Squiggly lines all over the place… Didgeridoos… the famous ‘We was Happily Humping in our Humpies’ ditty… The Noble Savage… Bennelong: “Great-big, f*n’ funny-lookin’ f*n’ canoes in the f*n’ harbour all of a sudden. … Oh, Oh! – There goes the neighbourhood”… More squiggly lines: frantic squiggly lines… Albo Namatjira… Chant of Billy Blacksmith… Blood, lots of blood… “Call that a knife…?” (Was that not one of you guys..???)… Let’s try spots, lots of spots… Ronny Possum’s masterpiece, ‘Wobbygong-Dick Soup Dreaming’*… More squiggly lines… Treaty… Muzzie Mundine… Constitutional Recognition… And – Get the f*** off our f*n’ rock!” That sort of thing.
And then, my closing remarks – “If you ever get a parliamentary veto, all us white-fellahs are all gonna’ bugger off overseas to some place else.”) – were met with rapturous applause.
Making my way down from the rostrum, through the cheering delegates, shaking hands with my new-found friends, I thought I’d spotted Aly in the food area, standing over by the gluten-free ‘Mashed Goanna-Nuts Dreaming Pizza’ kiosk. Gesticulating excitedly, explaining something to someone who looked a lot like that Adam Goodes numbskull. Above the din I thought I heard her shouting something like “… silly war dance at the Footy… Spears’re useless. Try one of our custom-made ‘Good-bye Whitey, Hello Paradise’ belts… Much louder… Got a built-in timer…”
But when I looked again, the crowd had surged, and they were both gone. Nowhere to be seen.
Maybe like the rest of them here, I thought, I must be dreamin’.
*Now hanging at the NGV