Despite being thoroughly fed up with the paparazzi, drones, TV cameras, reporters and so on, Barnaby still retains great affections for Independent Australia. To show his support, he granted one of our leading journalists access to an hour in the life of the new father, ex-deputy PM, Barnaby Joyce.
Join them as Barnaby prams his way along a street near his new abode.
BARNABY: Yes, that’s me. Do I know you?
CITIZEN: No, but I feel that I sort of know you.
BARNABY: I well understand. When you called my name just then, was it more with an exclamation mark or a question mark after it?
CITIZEN: Well, I know what you look like, so I reckon it was an exclamation mark.
BARNABY: That’s okay, then.
CITIZEN: I don’t quite follow your drift.
BARNABY: If it was a question, I’d have to charge you.
BARNABY: Now that’s definitely a question. Can’t answer unless I get at least five bucks from you.
CITIZEN: Jesus. That’s a bit rough, but I suppose five dollars won’t break my finances. OK, here’s five dollars.
He hands a five dollar note to Barnaby.
BARNABY: Because from now on I’ll only answer a question if I am paid, so I’ll eventually be able to afford to send my troublemaking brat, Sebastian, to a good Catholic school where he can learn good conservative values. Realistically, my days as a politician could be drawing to a close. Gina is less likely to view me as favourably as she has, so basically, if Murdoch doesn’t find a slot for me, either in print or TV, I’ll only have my politician’s pension to fall back on.
Talk about having it tough. I’ll be rooted. The Nats will cast me adrift. I’ll be faced with alimony for my four daughters, plus have my new sheila and Seb to take care of. I’ll be fucked.
CITIZEN: That’s terrible Barnaby. I had no idea. And my sister thinks she’s got it hard bringing up two kids on a single mum’s pension. Two kids!
Didn’t you describe some of your conservative Parliamentary colleagues as "scum of the earth"?
BARNABY: That’s another question. Another fiver.
CITIZEN: Oh, alright.
Barnaby holds out his hand until the five dollar note is deposited in it.
BARNABY: Yes I did.
CITIZEN: Well, those conservative, Parliamentary colleague scum-of-the-earth types went to good Catholic schools.
BARNABY: Is that a statement or a question?
BARNABY: Statement. No percentage in answering it. Have a nice day.
Barnaby prams further along the road, eventually reaching a park where a gay wedding is taking place. He stops, for a minute, to observe.
MARRIAGE CELEBRANT: Husbands, you may now kiss each other as husband and husband.
The gathering cheer and this wakens little Seb from his sleep.
BARNABY: Oh yuk! Don’t look Seb. Your pure, little eyes don’t need to be polluted by the sight of two men kissing. It’s not like one of them has just scored a goal, or a try, or taken a great catch, or something worthwhile like that. And to make things worse, the buggers are married to each other.
Little Seb starts crying. Barnaby shoves a dummy in the little boy’s mouth to shut him up.
BARNABY: Seb. You don’t choose who you fall in love with, which means, you are free to fall in love with anyone you want, even if they are already married to somebody else at the time, as long as it’s a sheila and not a bloke. Got it.
Seb makes a burping sound which comes out sounding like "why".
BARNABY: You just said "why". My little man just asked me a question. I’ll tell you why. The answer is obvious. Your family name sounds like a sheila and you may marry a girl called Joyce. She’ll become Joyce Joyce, but that’s as same-same as we’ll accept in our family. Your half-sisters can have husbands, but you can’t little fella.
Oh, and by the way, that was a question, so I’ll have to charge you five dollars for my answer.
Barnaby takes one of the five dollar notes he was given and slips it into his back pocket as he pushes for home.
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