Post by Niemmy on Jun 3, 2007 10:58:28 GMT -5
Inside John Howard's mind
* OPINION
Phillip Adams
* May 19, 2007
OVER the weekend, after reading Phillip Adams, our favourite newspaper columnist, I was sitting alongside Janette in the loungeroom at Kirribilli watching the 17-inch Astor we've had all our married life - the same one we Howards watched Homicide and Mr Ed on when I was a kiddie, the very set Mum and Dad gave us for a wedding present when they were upgrading to the 21-inch Admiral, the set we took on our honeymoon so I could watch the cricket wearing what Janette calls my Sandy Stone cozzie (my nice warm winceyette ’jamas, comfy felt slippers and dressing gown), the hottie in my lap inside the woollen cover Janette knitted while sipping Akta-Vite from my favourite mug, the one with King George VI and the Queen on it which I won as a scripture prize at Sunday School when I was eight, and we saw that rude Rudd bloke making a speech to his rough, rowdy friends and mocking our telly because it’s black and white, which was good enough for Mr Menzies so it’s good enough for me and in any case I like to see the world and issues and politics in black and white – so we were, frankly, a bit miffed by him using the Astor (they don’t make them like that any more) to suggest I’m behind the times and stuck back in the ’50s while suggesting I’m the sort of Prime Minister who puts personal political advantage ahead of the national interest when, in fact, I can’t wait to hand this job over to Peter or Malcolm or someone the very minute I’ve put a few important things in place for the good of Australia – which I care about almost as much as I care about Janette and cricket – and although I couldn’t hear it all because the sound from the Astor isn’t too good since the removalists dropped it when we shifted in 11 years ago and my hearing aid’s got a flattish battery, it was loud and clear that Rudd was ridiculing me which I found really upsetting because, in many ways, he reminds me of me when I was a bit younger, us both being conservative, both Protestants and both lacking what they call charisma, which Whitlam and Hawke and Keating apparently had, not that it did them much good in the long run given they got kicked out either by the voters or their comrades whereas I’m still here in Kirribilli watching the old Astor with Janette, in my ’jamas with the nice cup of Akta-Vite the butler brought me in my King George mug while they’re out in the political cold and unable to build lots of nuclear plants that prove I’ve still got it and not because it’ll be one of those wedge issues they reckon I’m good at in the run-up to the election; that, frankly, is the last thing on my mind because I want to leave my mark on history and help reduce greenhouse gases as long as that doesn’t cost a single job in the coal mining industry and keeps those unsightly solar panels and windmills off the hillsides because Malcolm told me the reflections from the panels might give kiddies sunburn and melanoma and those big revolving blades can kill rare cockatoos whereas nuclear power has never hurt anyone except for a few communists in Russia 20 years ago and anyway there’s a big quid in uranium exports including to Russia which isn’t communist any more so there’s no risk that it’ll finish up in bombs which George and Condie will handle anyway with the new Star Warsy anti-missile systems they’re installing in places like Poland, even if Putin doesn’t like it, though it’s more like the system that Mr Spock switched on in Star Trek, which we used to watch on the Astor, activating the shields while I drank my Akta-Vite which I gave up for a while when the Americans tried to nick it and Idon’t care about them trying to nick Qantas because it’s a left-wing Labor partyish sort of airline but Iwas glad when we got Akta-Vite back because it’s conservative picket-fence Australian and MrMenzies used to drink it though you can’t stop progress, which is why I’m all for activating nuclear because it’s progressive and exciting and modern and makes that rude Rudd look fuddy-duddy instead of me which serves him right for saying I’m getting too old for it, which is exactly what Peter Costello says and they can both get stuffed, excuse the French, who incidentally have a lot of nuclear power stations that don’t seem to affect their tourist numbers the way Peter Beattie says even a few reactors will in Queensland if you put them on the Gold Coast or near the Barrier Reef though Malcolm reckons any leakage of radioactivity will only brighten the colours of the coral and the fish, making them glow in the dark so tourist operators will be able to do a night shift which will increase productivity while saving the world from climate change if you take that seriously which, just between you and me, I don’t and neither does George or Condie, although we all have to pretend wedo and I bet Rudd is only pretending too just so he can try to embarrass me only he can’t, because though he’s a bit like me I’m more like me than he is – and as Janette proudly says, I’ve the hide of a rhino and I must ask the butler if there’s any of the Horlicks left that Margaret Thatcher sent us from Number 10 or has it all gone hard in the jar?