As seen on The Scrivener’s Fancy
When the trashmedia kraken got wind of an ALP leadership spill, it rustled its gills in illicit pleasure. The existing leader had long fallen out of its favour, and the period when the kraken laboured to make this boring man seem interesting had now well and truly faded into the mists of history. A smile crept over the kraken’s beak-like maw, as it realised that this colourless figure could be jettisoned in favour of a person far more suited to a self-oscillating cycle of inane and trivial commentary. This was especially welcome following a particularly taxing period of fastidiously avoiding providing Australians with any substantive details of the proposed resources super profits tax. The arrival of Australia’s First Female Prime Minister (abbreviated here to the more common ‘AFFPM’) opened up an enormous window of opportunity for the kraken to give the impression of asking the big questions, whilst actually plying its customary trade in irrelevant ephemera.
When the she-bogan was informed of AFFPM, it rushed to the family computing console and onlogged the book of faces. Despite possessing all the political savvy of a waterlogged horsebiscuit, and all the feminist credentials of a suburban football team’s end-of-season trip to Phuket, the she-bogan nonetheless felt compelled to update its status in expression of its newfound interest in events Canberraside, and its salivating glee that a woman had finally ‘made it’ to the top job. Rapidly, the interwebz were awash with innumerable pithy quotes like ‘OMG go Julia lol! Girl power!’ Much like bogans claiming credit for any Australian team’s successes on the world stage, despite having done nothing more than watch it on TV, the she-bogan was anxious to claim credit for Gillard’s rise to power, purely by virtue of possessing a matching set of genitalia. Upon pressing the ‘Share’ button on this missive of solidarity with the sisterhood, the she-bogan returned to the TV to continue watching Two and a Half Men.
‘OMG Charlie Sheen is soooooooo funny lol!’
Across the tiled roofs of suburbistan, a he-bogan noticed the she-bogan’s status update. Well versed in making a spectacle of its own ignorance, yet utterly convinced of its cutting insight into political matters, the he-bogan concocted a response. Incensed that it was not personally responsible for changing the nation’s leader, the he-bogan said that it did not vote for Julia Gillard. Despite the fact that the he-bogan is likely to have never voted for a Prime Minister in its life. The he-bogan is misinformed of these matters because it has augmented its pitiful understanding of Australia’s voting system with vague details of the American voting system – picked up from a steady stream of US sitcoms, movies and police procedurals. This is the same bogan who refused to vote for a republic a decade earlier, as it could not conceive of a government in which it could not personally appoint its leader.
Since her ascension, our new illustrious leader has rushed to embrace the bogan vote with a vigour not seen since the advent of negative gearing. First, she told beneficiaries of the baby bonus nationwide that she is philosophically disposed against ‘a big Australia’. She echoed the thoughts of bogans nationwide when she said that she was not racist, but in the immigration debate, political correctness had indeed gone mad. She then decided to negotiate with the miners on the resource rent tax, a tax that the bogan despised despite being unaffected by it and unaware of what it actually was. Then, after a solid three days of devising policy, she announced that she’d be shipping said queue jumpers back to East Timor where they came from. The bogan interpreted this as a PM who will do her utmost to prevent more towelheads arriving at our shores in a flotilla of bomb-laden rafts. Finally, she relentlessly and enthusiastically joined the bogan in tossing around as many hastily conceived rednut jokes as could be shoehorned into a content-free policy statement. Upon hearing this, the he-bogan rushed once again to the computing console, searching Google for as many redhead jokes as it could shoehorn into a morning coffee break.
In the first three weeks under AFFPM’s stewardship, the ALP has appeared more focused, supercharged with maxtreme cans of energy, ready to travel forwardly in direction, and backwardly in policy. In short, the ALP became more of a Thing Bogans Like, and the Powerfox, seeing her advantageous positioning vis-à-vis bogans, promptly called an election.
If anything can be learned from the mega-edifying opening salvos of election 2010, it is that there is nothing that bogans, party leaders and the kraken like more than a good slogan. While AFFPM is Moving Forward, Tony ‘Action Man’ Abbott offers Real Action. Because the bogan knows that any other kind of action is simply not maxtreme enough to earn its vote. He also offers to stop taxes and pay off the national debt. Despite the clear incoherence of this pledge, the bogan approves.
Sitting at its desk later, trawling the Internet for the latest news on X Factor auditions, the he-bogan decided that it wasn’t done commenting on the interwebz, and sought out trashmedia websites. On these, it could contribute to this vibrant democracy via the time-honoured bogan opining tool of choice: the binary poll.
How effective do you think the ALP policy on asylum seekers will be at keeping Australia’s borders safe? YES/NO
After voting ‘NO’ on sixteen polls, and commenting on various friends’ status updates with variations on the same quasi-republican theme, the he-bogan headed back over to the book of faces. Feeling magnanimous, the he-bogan decided that perhaps it was too quick to judge AFFPM. Thanks to her bogan-baiting, the bogan was becoming very comfortable with Gillard, and to top it all off, she seemed to talk like someone from the ‘real world’. Gillard looked ready to pounce on the bogan vote like a fiery-looking cougar, and drag it back to the ALP lair. The he-bogan discovered the perfect Facebook group to express his newfound support – ‘Julia Gillard is a Super-hot Fanta Pants Cougar LOL’ – and joined it immediately. Pleased to have engaged in political debate under the auspices of social networking, the he-bogan cracked another massive can of Mother and returned to the TV to continue watching Border Security: Fuck off, We’re Full. The kraken gurgled its deep satisfaction, and wiggled its many tentacles of spite.