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The Turnbulls always enjoy the days leading up to Christmas. Malcolm, especially, finds it an exciting time of the year. December 25 is not long off and their excitement is growing by the day. Join our first couple in their harbourside mansion.

MALCOLM: How good is this Lucy! Not many sleeps 'til Santa. Don’t you love this time of year?

LUCY: Yes.

MALCOLM: Yes. Yes. Yes. Oh, I love that word. Sixty one point six per cent of Australians love that word. Say it again for me, darling.

LUCY: If it makes you happy. Yes.

MALCOLM: Wonderful. My word. We seem to have lots of mail today and a few parcels. How good is this! A parcel from an S. Dastyari. Do you know any Dastyaris, Lucy?

LUCY: Not personally. Only that funny little man on the other side.

MALCOLM: Don’t tell me. (He unwraps the parcel) You’re right. I don’t believe it. Sam Dastyari, of all people, has sent me a Christmas gift.

How good is this! Two sets of gold plated chopsticks, and some rare, exotic Chinese Teas.

LUCY: Really? Is there a note with it?

MALCOLM: Yes.

Dear Malcolm and Lucy. I must thank you Malcolm. Due to you, I have been freed up to spend far more time with my Chinese businessman mate.

Talk about jobs and growth. Huang has offered me a job in one of his companies, and the pay Malcolm, the pay. If ever you put your home on the market don’t be surprised if I buy it. I can’t thank you enough.

Sam Dastyari.

(GIF by @Biggy1883)

LUCY: Really. I’ve always been partial to a good Chinese tea.

MALCOLM: Goodness. You won’t believe it. Looks like a Christmas card from Tony Abbott.

LUCY: You’re bullshitting me, Malcolm.

MALCOLM: Lucy. Please. I do know the difference between our house and Parliament House. Hang on. It’s an invitation. He must be kidding me.

LUCY: Why?

MALCOLM: Listen to this:

Dear Malcolm,

Are you free on February 2. My sister is getting married and I would love you to be my plus one.

I acknowledge you will be rather surprised, in fact, downright confused. Please allow me to explain. Due to the nature of my sister’s union, er... I mean marriage (she’s marrying another sheila. Personally I find it disgusting, but what do I know?!) I will feel uncomfortable rolling up on February 2 with a woman on my arm. In keeping with the flavour of the occasion, I hope you will be happy to be on my arm, so to speak.

I look forward to a speedy reply, and, don’t worry, I’ll pay for the gift myself.

Tony Abbott

ex-Prime Minister of Australia.

LUCY: Tell him that, unfortunately, you can’t, because you are washing your hair that day.

MALCOLM: OK. How lovely. A Christmas card from John Alexander. What’s this? A gift voucher for five free tennis lessons.

LUCY: We don’t really play tennis, Malcolm. People really are strange.

MALCOLM: I’ll read his message:

Dear Malcolm,

In case I find myself out of a job after Bennelong, I figure the only thing I am qualified to do is teach people how to play tennis. Because of your help over the last few weeks, you and Lucy can have five free lessons, anytime you want.

(Only five, Malcolm. Any more than that I’ll have to charge you.)

LUCY: He’s not quite Santa, is he? Open the big parcel, Malcolm.

MALCOLM: Will do. My word. What’s this? A cake. From Eric Abetz, of all people! A Black Forest gateau: original German recipe.

LUCY: Don’t eat it. I don’t trust him.

MALCOLM: Oh Lucy. That’s silly.

There’s a note with it:

Dear Malcolm and Lucy,

I tracked down the baker who made the cake that ruined John Hewson’s campaign back in the '90s. I am taking lessons from him, to learn to bake cakes and pastries.

This is my first effort. Let me know what you think. Be brutal if need be.

My reason for learning how to bake is simple. In case any of my family members decide to marry (we Abetz's are all heterosexual) I want to make sure the wedding cake is not baked by anyone in a same sex marriage. Heaven forbid!

The only way to ensure that won’t be the case is for me to bake the cake myself.

Merry Christmas and don’t forget to tell me how the cake tasted.

Senator Eric Abetz.

LUCY: The cake is all yours Malcolm, but for the sake of our tennis game, let’s hope Kristina wins.

MALCOLM: Lucy. Please. That’s not funny. Santa won’t think you’ve been a good girl. He won’t leave you any gifts.

LUCY: Who needs Santa? I’ve got your credit card.

Rocky Dabscheck is a musician/songwriter and front person for Rocky and The Two Bob Millionaires. He is also the author of Stoney Broke and the Hi-Spenders.

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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Australia License

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