The Right Honourable Prime Minister ScoMo takes time out from his extended smoko to pen a few words of encouragement to quiet Australians.
HULA!... Oops! I mean… hello, folks.
You might have heard reports that I had skipped out of town with my family to avoid the terrible smog in Sydney and bushfires raging across the nation, laying waste buildings, lives and large numbers of cute, cuddly koalas.
I’m here to reassure you that I do not accept these reports. I might be sunning myself in Hawaii but that’s because I have official Head Poobah business here. Fact-finding for Australia’s next tourism campaign. Deadset! I’ve already even conducted a comprehensive survey, with three waitresses and six hula girls. They tell me they don’t even like koalas. How good is that?! Also, I’m frankly not all that raptured by koalas, or the bush, either. But those probably aren’t Revelations to you.
As many of my favourite commentators have noted, I have had a very busy year and deserve a holiday with the love machine and our two to three kids. In May, I miraculously won an election and since then, it’s been a real drag. Sometimes, I’m only able to fit in two naps a day — fair dinkum! You might think doing nothing and never answering any questions would be piss-easy, but it has taken me being fired from every job I have ever wangled, plus a maniacal commitment to smug belligerence to develop this infuriating public persona. How good is ScoMo?!
Some left-wing greenies have got all over-excited and compared me with Christine Nixon. Completely ridiculous. As if ducking out for a bite at the local compares with this five-star island paradise.
As far as I’m concerned, if you aren’t in the Shire, where the bloody hell are ya? Dead, buried and cremated, prolly, as Johnny might say. The lying little weasel. Um, derr! I’m in Hawaii! Seriously, how good is Hawaii?!
Now, even though I am sipping cocktails in Honolulu, don’t think my thoughts are far away from you. For example, just this morning I was reminded of the trials our natural wildlife face when a local national park ranger shot me with a tranquilliser dart and used a forklift to haul me back to a wildlife enclosure. Seems I had been scaring the kiddies as I sunned myself on Waikiki beach and the overzealous ranger mistook me for a beached Beluga whale. It’s an easy mistake to make.
I gave that bloke the harsh side of my speaking in tongues, let me tell you.
So even though I am on holidays with this woman I know from church and her several small children, don’t think I don’t burn for you.
Although with the amount of beer I’ve smashed away this week, followed by always idiotically sticking the glass on my head, burning is probably a long shot. But I’m a half-full kinda PM.
Anyway, I’m here and you’re there. Sucks to be you.
Prime Minister out!
Oh shit. I’ve Engadined it again!
See ya later Straya.
PS How good is Hawaii?!
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