101 Uses for a John Howard

Picture yourself washing down a fresh Tasmanian oyster with a crisp white wine while you watch the sun set over the beautiful rolling hills of a Tamar Valley winery.

Boring huh?

Luckily, Tasmanian tourism is going to receive an overdue injection of adrenaline in the near future. Instead of endless tracts of pristine this and untouched that, you’ll be able to watch it all get chopped down and turned into pulp.

THRILL to the logtruck derby where the only thing on the road more endangered than you is the native wildlife! GASP at the spectacular stench of fugitive mill emissions! RETCH as you tuck into a dioxin-laced oyster! The days when the most exciting thing about a Tasmanian holiday was wondering when the rain will stop are long gone.

Humble fellow that he is, John can really only take credit for the pollution of Bass Strait as he left the approval for pulping the rest of Tasmania up to the state government where the only thing dodgier than the approvals process will be the local fisherman’s basket once the effluent starts flowing. No Save The Franklin fiascos for John - look at what a missed waterskiing opportunity that turned out to be.

So, next time you’re about to tuck into a slippery Bass Strait oyster with a slightly dodgy look about it, think of John Howard. It’s not really that much of a stretch.

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Back in 1998, Australians got an early glimpse of John’s grand vision for a happier and more harmonious workplace on the docks of Australia. Not only did the lure of lower pay and fewer conditions for all beckon invitingly, the new regime also promised full employment for big angry dogs. Sadly, big angry dogs and the associated hired goon and balaclava and baton manufacturing industries failed to achieve their potential in the ensuing years.

With the introduction of WorkChoices, a system I’m sure the electorate would have voted for if John had had the time to mention it during the last election campaign, an opportunity for a resurgence in large dog employment has arisen.

The average worker currently possesses an enormous tactical advantage in current AWA negotiations, with employers armed only with greater financial and administrative resources and the ability to sack the employee without recourse.
Legislation is in the works to have a large angry dog to be present at all workplace negotiations, with the employee given a large rare steak with which to defend themselves in the interests of fairness. AWA negotiations are sure to proceed extremely smoothly, with any associated emergency surgery or rabies shots to be provided by the employer in exchange for a few public holidays and the right to go to the toilet during office hours.

For this bold vision to work, Australia’s large angry dogs will need to be maintained at peak fitness at all times. The key is John Howard and his tracksuit. Dogs could be trained to obey only the wearer of the tracksuit while being walked to the point of exhaustion by the great man. The tracksuit would become the business suit of the new regime, with it being a sackable offence to wear the tracksuit when not in possession of an ABN.

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All this talk of preambles to the Constitution takes me back to the heady days of 1999 when the Battlers of Australia voted against elitism by retaining the, er… British Monarchy. It’s no secret that Little Johnny’s a big fan of HRH and it is one of the great cruelties of male pattern baldness that as a loyal Monarchist, while he is certainly tugging away at something, he is entirely devoid of any forelock with which to make the traditional obeisance.

Fortunately, the solution is clear. Johnny was one of the unsung heroes of ‘99, obfuscating, complicating, bamboozling and befuddling the Elitist Army to snatch victory for queen and country. While he may lack a forelock of his own, he made up for it by tugging everybody else’s forelock for them.

The forelock-tugging power of one John Howard is approximately equal to that of 10000 Egyptian slaves (now those were the days) during the construction of the pyramids. It has been calculated that John Howard equipped with a cable fashioned from human forelocks and a quick burst of Rule, Brittania! would have been enough to get the Pasha Bulker off Nobbys Beach at Newcastle before they even got to the bit about how Britons will never be slaves.

Whilst Johnny Tugboat could enjoy a productive retirement towing refugee terrorist boat people back to the end of the queue where they belong, a more ambitious plan presents itself.

While elitists are self-evidently wrong about everything, they are slightly correct in pointing out that the Queen of Australia resides at the opposite end of the planet. Now, give John a map, a really strong cable woven from the forelocks of all true Australian British subjects and a rousing chorus of God Save the Queen and he’ll have us towed into the Atlantic, just to the west of Ireland before you could say off with his head.

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What do you call a boomerang that won’t come back?

John Howard.

Sure, when it comes to pretty much any topic, a sudden reversal of direction wouldn’t cause a single eyelid to bat, but on the subject of indigenous reconciliation, you’d have to say that until quite recently, John Howard had all the direction-changing power of a well-flung stick. Practical reconciliation was all the rage, which mainly involved sending the tanks into the Northern Territory without so much as a by-your-leave, presumably on the grounds that it worked so well in Iraq.

But out of the gathering darkness, there’s a whirring in the sky as Johnny’s made a screaming U-turn, spinning like mad and promising to hold a referendum to have a Statement of Reconciliation incorporated into a preamble to the Constitution.

Now anyone who has attempted any sort of amble through Australia’s Constitution will tell you that a more pleasant stroll could possibly be had through an unmarked minefield inside a quicksand swamp infested by hungry crocodiles on a moonless night, and the smartest type of preamble would best involve ambling as quickly as possible in the opposite direction.

A simple apology would seem a more practical first step, but apparently that’s where is all gets a bit complicated. For what it’s worth, we’re sorry we asked.

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A lert is a small, furry marsupial endemic to the urban areas of Australia. It is considered to be endangered, but zoologists suspect it is just extremely shy, spending most of its time hiding under rocks dialling the emergency terrorist hotline.

Contrary to popular belief, the lert has very few predators in Australia and the most common cause of death is caused by fright. It is a close cousin of the larmed, which although somewhat more robust than the lert, has a tendency to wander about like it’s not about to be blown up by terrorists.

The cruel irony is that this relaxed attitude makes the meat of the larmed considerably more tasty and tender than that of the lert, leading to it also being on the endangered list. The perfect method for making tenderised larmed steaks is to run it over, and the gruesome remains can be found in the fridges of Australia, leading zoologists to conclude that this explains the meaning of the cryptic warning occasionally found on magnets affixed to the front of these appliances.

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