Delta40
01-06-2013, 12:44 AM
Under the auspices of New Leadership, Australia sought a true symbol. Citizenship laws were tightened and there was little doubt in the minds of people what sort of Australian was looked upon most favourably. Anyone who found the idea distasteful and offensive could have their say. It didn't matter. Australia spoke and force fed this way of life down the throats of everyone whose foot touched golden sands.
The new PM unleashed his mighty power on the public a little over a week after his election to office. At first glance, this new symbol was nothing to look at but upon inspection, the Australian public realized its full ferocity.
He was black and furry with leadership colours in tartan twill. Harking back to a distant ancestry that Australia found itself most comfortable with, nobody would hear 'sorry Jimmy' from this wee fellow. The dog, fondly referred to as the PM's mascottie, had a serious, intense look rather like John Howard did when he realized that he had not only been voted out but would now need to take viagara to feel powerful.
The PM introduced the mascottie, known as Dougall and assured the people that he was indeed the new Leadership Warrior and stood for everything true Australians believed in. Dougall sat complacent on the PM's arm while cameras flashed, indifferent to such publicity.
'I give you Dougall, who pledges to tackle those issues which go straight to the heart of our people,' announced the PM.
'Prime Minister, what is the first item on Dougall's agenda?'
'I think that's pretty obvious, don't you?' replied the PM stroking Dougall's ears. 'First thing Monday morning Dougall will deal with terrorism.' The press went wild and closed in as the PM used Dougall's front paw to wave goodbye as he stepped off the podium under escort.
The Sydney Morning Herald followed the scent of Dougall as he penetrated the Iraq Embassy in Canberra. 'Take that Mohammed!' was splashed across headlines all over the country when Dougall was snapped sporting a chequered headpiece going undercover during an intelligence operation. Later, the mascottie pinned down a target in a restaurant and was photgraphed standing on the man's chest, victorious surrounded by applauding Federal Police.
Such heroism had its effect. The government had never been so popular. When Dougall wasn't spring cleaning the nation of Islamic extremists, he could be found safely in the crook of PM's arm to serve as a reminder to the country who the real Australians were.
Soon, the Caring, Humane, Underdog Mandate (CHUM) awarded Dougall their highest honour. Dougall proudly addressed the next issue. Gay rights.
The PM himself could not freely say yay or nay on the issue so the matter was placed in the trusty paws of the national symbol. Dougall launched into his campaign with a vengeance and bit every poofter in the country on the arse, branding them like cattle. The sensitive receptors in his nose told him everything he needed to know. Nobody who was gay got off scottie free. Entitlements to health care and social security was determined by a standardized bum cheek check. In the aftermath, the Senate oddly reduced in size and more women came into power.
It wasn't long before the public wanted Dougall as Prime Minister. They demanded he deal with more issues. Refugees for example. The PM claimed Dougall couldn't stomach Asian food and had them all sent back home.
Anyone who didn't fit the Dougall profile was short listed and the public felt no compunction in the hostile treatment they received. 'A Fair Go For Fair Australians' become the new slogan and those on the fringe likened it to the Ku Klux Klan. Dougall reinforced the notion when a reality tv show called African Safari went to air. Once a week Australians tuned in to watch Dougall search and locate families who had sought a new life here. The mascottie would publicly rescind their citizenship or residency while fans screamed, 'Howzat Oxfam?'
Despite his seeming lovability, the opposing government fought to get back on their feet. But the dog had a tight hold on the nation's thinking. Then the graffitti started.
'The PM is a dick-tater'
'Die Dougall Die!'
Somewhere, somebody believed New Leadership wasn't all it was cracked up to be. At first, the messages appeared on abandoned buildings, cargo containers and trains. But then they moved into shopping centres, malls and even to churches until the tagging got more and more media publicity. Bad side shots of Dougall appeared in magazines. He'd gained too much weight, he'd dramatically lost weight. Apparently he had been mating with any amount of b itches.
The PM was put under pressure to have Dougall's health checked and booked him in on the Monday but still the rumours grew through the media. Pictures of Dougall lookalikes humping true Australians legs appeared which caused a national outrage. The mascottie was turning on his own people. Tweets went wild. 'He's consumed by his own power'.
Dougall was destroyed on Friday. The PM released a statement to say that regrettably Dougall had suffered an aneurism and would be sadly missed by all but he had taught all of us a valuable lesson.
'What's that Prime Minister?'
'I'm sorry. I don't understand the question.'
The new PM unleashed his mighty power on the public a little over a week after his election to office. At first glance, this new symbol was nothing to look at but upon inspection, the Australian public realized its full ferocity.
He was black and furry with leadership colours in tartan twill. Harking back to a distant ancestry that Australia found itself most comfortable with, nobody would hear 'sorry Jimmy' from this wee fellow. The dog, fondly referred to as the PM's mascottie, had a serious, intense look rather like John Howard did when he realized that he had not only been voted out but would now need to take viagara to feel powerful.
The PM introduced the mascottie, known as Dougall and assured the people that he was indeed the new Leadership Warrior and stood for everything true Australians believed in. Dougall sat complacent on the PM's arm while cameras flashed, indifferent to such publicity.
'I give you Dougall, who pledges to tackle those issues which go straight to the heart of our people,' announced the PM.
'Prime Minister, what is the first item on Dougall's agenda?'
'I think that's pretty obvious, don't you?' replied the PM stroking Dougall's ears. 'First thing Monday morning Dougall will deal with terrorism.' The press went wild and closed in as the PM used Dougall's front paw to wave goodbye as he stepped off the podium under escort.
The Sydney Morning Herald followed the scent of Dougall as he penetrated the Iraq Embassy in Canberra. 'Take that Mohammed!' was splashed across headlines all over the country when Dougall was snapped sporting a chequered headpiece going undercover during an intelligence operation. Later, the mascottie pinned down a target in a restaurant and was photgraphed standing on the man's chest, victorious surrounded by applauding Federal Police.
Such heroism had its effect. The government had never been so popular. When Dougall wasn't spring cleaning the nation of Islamic extremists, he could be found safely in the crook of PM's arm to serve as a reminder to the country who the real Australians were.
Soon, the Caring, Humane, Underdog Mandate (CHUM) awarded Dougall their highest honour. Dougall proudly addressed the next issue. Gay rights.
The PM himself could not freely say yay or nay on the issue so the matter was placed in the trusty paws of the national symbol. Dougall launched into his campaign with a vengeance and bit every poofter in the country on the arse, branding them like cattle. The sensitive receptors in his nose told him everything he needed to know. Nobody who was gay got off scottie free. Entitlements to health care and social security was determined by a standardized bum cheek check. In the aftermath, the Senate oddly reduced in size and more women came into power.
It wasn't long before the public wanted Dougall as Prime Minister. They demanded he deal with more issues. Refugees for example. The PM claimed Dougall couldn't stomach Asian food and had them all sent back home.
Anyone who didn't fit the Dougall profile was short listed and the public felt no compunction in the hostile treatment they received. 'A Fair Go For Fair Australians' become the new slogan and those on the fringe likened it to the Ku Klux Klan. Dougall reinforced the notion when a reality tv show called African Safari went to air. Once a week Australians tuned in to watch Dougall search and locate families who had sought a new life here. The mascottie would publicly rescind their citizenship or residency while fans screamed, 'Howzat Oxfam?'
Despite his seeming lovability, the opposing government fought to get back on their feet. But the dog had a tight hold on the nation's thinking. Then the graffitti started.
'The PM is a dick-tater'
'Die Dougall Die!'
Somewhere, somebody believed New Leadership wasn't all it was cracked up to be. At first, the messages appeared on abandoned buildings, cargo containers and trains. But then they moved into shopping centres, malls and even to churches until the tagging got more and more media publicity. Bad side shots of Dougall appeared in magazines. He'd gained too much weight, he'd dramatically lost weight. Apparently he had been mating with any amount of b itches.
The PM was put under pressure to have Dougall's health checked and booked him in on the Monday but still the rumours grew through the media. Pictures of Dougall lookalikes humping true Australians legs appeared which caused a national outrage. The mascottie was turning on his own people. Tweets went wild. 'He's consumed by his own power'.
Dougall was destroyed on Friday. The PM released a statement to say that regrettably Dougall had suffered an aneurism and would be sadly missed by all but he had taught all of us a valuable lesson.
'What's that Prime Minister?'
'I'm sorry. I don't understand the question.'