A Dill Horin's Fellow Travellers

LEFTISTS, they sure are hard to figure out. Here’s A Dill Horin, in today’s Silly, going on about the inequitable distribution of tall drinks with little umbrellas in them:

… the government has felt no compunction to lift government payments and concessions to the point where Australia's poor and low-wage earners can enjoy an occasional overseas holiday and regular restaurant meals. Perhaps they are not seen as being greedy enough.

And here is David Williamson, as summarised by Gerard Henderson, lamenting that those same downtrodden masses are allowed out of the country at all:

There were "oodles of children" on board and "the adults didn't seem to be discussing Proust or George Eliot". Fancy that. What's more, the passengers enjoyed popular American culture but were interested in neither history nor architecture. Shame. So much so that, on Cruise Ship Australia, "there was no inquiry into anything". Even the games supervisor was best described as "our activities Oberfuhrer" - indicating an all-pervading fascist influence even during "deck parties". Pretty amusing, eh? The playwright regards his shipboard experience "as a kind of metaphor for Australia".

There is a solution to this disquiet, one both A Dill and Williamson would surely endorse.

From now on, whenever a luvvie goes overseas, he or she must pack a bogan with the rest of the luggage. A system of relatively modest government grants could finance caring and compassionate capture teams operating in the desolation of Emu Plains, Altona Meadows and other bleak Australian wildernesses. Aftyer that, a quick programme in a re-education facility would follow, your boganus antipodini being subjected to tested and proven psychological manipulations – exposure, for example, to pictures of pies, domestric beer and AFL cub logos being accompanied by short, sharp electric shocks.

Thus conditioned, they could be airlifted to Rome or Spoleto or the fringes of Edinburgh, where remote sensing devices would determine if the yob’s reaction to stimuli was of the approved sort, more electric shocks encouraging uproarious laughter at slight jokes about George W. Bush, Margaret Thatcher ,John Howard and all the other monsters in the left’s bestiary.

Then it would be back home, where only the hardest cases of boganism would need corrective psycho surgery. A probe behind the eyeball, a quick snip to separate the frontal lobe and they could all be as smart as Adele.