Joshy Boy’s New Clothes

Three days ago there was a Treasurer so exceedingly fond of a surplus that he backed his whole career on a shiny new budget. He cared nothing about the impending climate catastrophe, the unemployed, or the expensive and empty detention centre on the tropical island named after the holy one’s day of birth. He only cared about the optics of a surplus. He had a graph for every hour of the day, and instead of saying, as one might, about any other person in charge of the budget, “The Treasurer’s consulting with the poor and needy,” here in the land of continuous economic growth they say, “Joshy’s in the fitting room with Scotty, the boss.”

In the capital where he counted all the money, life was an allowance fuelled rort. Every day hungry corporate overlords came to Canberra, and among them one day came two swindlers, one from the IPA, the other from the Minerals Council. They let it be known they could fashion a budget from the most magnificent lies imaginable. Not only were their lies made from the finest white patriarchal fibre, but a budget woven of this mendacious fabric had a wonderful way of becoming invisible to anyone who was deemed unfit for financial assistance. These leaners would be far too uncouth and undeserving to appreciate the wonders of an invisible budget, the swindlers boasted.

You know the rest of the story.

Bring on the election Scomo. We see right through you and your naked neo-liberal chummy boys.

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