The Poisoned Chalice

Chapter 9: The Chalice gets passed around

Many were those who sipped (some even slurped) from the Chalice this past week. One who veritably guzzled was unionist sans visage, Jackie Howe. He left his blue singlet at home, the better to mingle with a torrent of trendy capitalists at the launch of his tome without a face. Nor was he inclined to delicacy in his treatment of that likely lad, Our Kevvie. No, it was a bucket of bile for poor Kevvie who was shorn of his fleece better than old Jackie could ever do a sheep. Haydo, the former drover’s dog, once introduced the term to flense into our local political lexicon and young Jackie seems very taken with the concept, leaving Kevvie an ideal candidate for Fiona Wood’s spray-on skin. And these are notional comrades-in-arms! Even Cleopatra would be askance at clutching this one to her bosom.

But Kevvie – who thought we’d ever remember him with something approaching sentiment? – had his comeuppance. Having reprised his diplomatic skills during recent whirlwind wanderings around the globe, he was able to do a soft-shoe shuffle with Hills Hoist, the Presidentess-in-waiting. And such a gay and hearty it was. His new best girl – who it must be acknowledged chooses her words with such skill and certainty that nary a slip passes twixt her lip and microphone – adorned him with the old token of affection: Prime Minister. Well, wasn’t he chuffed! Yes, his office later sanitised the term in the official record but for days the nation was bathed in the brilliant glare of a supernova that was just Kevvie’s new-found smile. Watch out, Mother Theresa, the US-Aussie alliance may be about to get a going-over.

Queen Julia herself kept imbibing from the Chalice as the peasants recorded their displeasure at the continuance of her ‘real’ persona. Newspoll suggests they don’t actually dislike her but are finding it hard to take a shine to her portrayal of her starring role as the nation’s Boss Cocky. Mind you, monarchs are rarely troubled by the platitudes of the peasants so we can expect her to sail serenely on. Though, when travelling to distant parts, her epistles to assembled throngs do need some work.

The Queen’s recent Grand Tour of the region appeared to leave heads of government speechless with her rabid rants on the topic of “Build it and they will come”. No-one was able to quite grasp her proclivity for a fabulous new resort at Timor L’Este. Indeed, few appeared to know just where TL is, far less why The Great South Land would want to build a massive resort there for Indians, Sri Lankans, Afghanis and Pakistanis. No doubt their diplomatic enquiries would have revealed that no-one in the south land understands it either. A mystery to us all!

And then there was the Duck With An Abacus: the one who looks as though he is forced to carry the Chalice with him everywhere these days. Treasurers have for decades been able to wax lyrical every so often about the benefits of a strong dollar but poor old Swannee appears likely to be poleaxed by a little Aussie dollar on steroids. His recent budget update was masterful as he announced the finding of another $10 billion black hole in his sums without even shedding a tear. Tremendous poise, Treasurer! And we all eagerly await the denouement of his faithful promise that the budget will return to surplus regardless of these cataclysmic conniptions.

But The Duck’s poise may be shaken even more by the public disclosure (until now kept under wraps by the mandarins’ shrouds of secrecy) that the NBN poses economic risks. Who would have thought? But, again, this Treasurer is not for turning. Promises to be like watching a road accident unfold.

Nor is it only characters who populate our national Political Play School who get to sup from The Poisoned Chalice. No, that pleasure is now bestowed on all the citizenry of Sydney thanks to the great salt shaker at Kurnell. It’s one of those stupendous screw-ups that make mere mortals wonder what the hell ever goes on in the minds of the would-be clever dicks of the world. You see, this $2 billion source of salvation for a parched land was built on the premise that ocean currents in the vicinity only ever flow one way – to the south. But, wonder of wonders, someone has now pointed out that, in fact, the currents flow north – about a third of the time. This takes the lovely, luscious leftovers of society from the Cronulla sewage outfall right up past the ever-sucking intake of the Kurnell salt shaker. And, thanks to what is described as the impact of a cold eddy, we are told the current has done this for the past week! Raise a glass, Sydney, you’re drinking it! And they reckon Queenslanders are unsophisticated! Tee, hee 

But, in a pleasant end to all this poison-sipping, we gained guidance and insight from the Yankees’ former First Lady: and what a prime lady she proved to be. Hills Hoist squired (and that might indeed be the word) our very own Queen around Melbourne, showing her how to work a media audience, indeed any audience. Hills so adroitly massaged the emotions of those around her that Queen Julia’s lower lip was seen, on occasion, to drop slightly and quiver. Just as Madama Blanchett magnificently and mysteriously melds all others into a miasma, so the Hoist demonstrates sheer class so effortlessly that it bewilders the brain akin to Harry Houdini’s feats of escapism. Fabians everywhere will be praying that the Queen learned some tricks while being so up close and personal.

Fabians’ folly

You have to wonder at the Labor Party’s cult-like approach to its disparate membership. It matters not how ‘out there’ you might be so long as you are inside the tent. If you are an outsider, you are automatically persona non grata. And if you have committed the most grievous crime of all – leaving the tent altogether – then expect vituperation and condemnation to rain down upon you.

It must surely be this zealot-like mindset that anything can be forgiven so long as you are one of us that has led to a recent perplexing promotion to Labor’s senior ranks. Patricia Karvelas in The Australian reports that Sharon Grierson, the ALP Member for Newcastle has just secured leadership of the Caucus Economics Committee.

She has done so after Julia Gillard threw out the Kevin Rudd handbook and pledged that Labor backbenchers (and Ministers for that matter!) could actually have a say in policy formulation. A wonderfully enlightened approach to running a  modern democracy!

The fascinating aspect of the Grierson victory is that she is a member of the ALP’s Socialist Left faction. Yes, socialism may have departed the official platform but its spirit has never left the party’s soul, apparently.

How quaint that a committed socialist can now be in charge of a key Labor economic policy formulation engine. Though perhaps quaint is not the word. It may underline Wayne Swan’s recent rhetoric about renewed regulation for the major banks. Maybe Grierson is making her presence felt very quickly?

Perhaps, too, it explains the willingness of Labor to get into bed with the Greens and their wacky economic notions (is anyone sure those guys don’t do drugs?)

It is also food for thought given the surging influence of America’s Tea Party and its antipathy to big-spending big government that Labor here exalts a socialist who no doubt thinks the Rudd-Swan-Gillard stimulus package didn’t go half far enough and that $43 billion for an NBN is barely a decent down-payment. How Ms Grierson must salivate at the thought the US printing another $600 billion in new currency. Whither sanity?

Budget bungling

So adept are they at kicking own goals, it hardly seems fair to draw attention to any further stuff-ups by the Fabian fiasco in The Failed State that goes by the name of the Kenneally Government. Of course, it’s just as unfair to brandish her name since her predecessors (and there have been rather a few, eh?) conspired to tarnish the Labor brand in such a way that the North Korean administration appears a model of sanity and efficiency by comparison.

But enough of damning faint praise.

We are beholden to Lisa Murray in The Australian Financial Review who has shed some light on the socialist approach to financial management. Not a pretty picture so be prepared for discomfort if you are, by residential misfortune, a shareholder in the New South Welshian jurisdiction. Superficially there’s a pretty picture with Kenneally and Co reporting a surplus (wonder of wonders!) of $994 million for 2009-10. Just a year earlier, this lot were predicting almost exactly the same number as a deficit. But, no, their economic and management skills have not miraculously turned around in that time. Indeed, their slide down the slippery slope of fiscal imprudence continues not only unabated but perhaps gathering speed.

This is attested by the fact that the water-into-wine trick of deficit into surplus was produced by a federal stimulus gift of $3.2 billion. Which still leaves another $1.2 billion that appears to have simply disappeared into the mist. Albeit some of the gorillas inhabiting that space are those who belong to that rather generic genus known as consultants. Spending on these ubiquitous creatures soared from a still substantial $90 million or so back in 08-09 to a concerning $207 million this past year. Lots of snouts, lots of troughs.

Of greater concern, though, is superannuation. Unfunded liabilities have now leapt to nearly $35 billion and some very pointed questions should surely be asked about how this problem is to be addressed.

Indicative of the slapdash approach to management of funds is that no less than seven of 24 state agencies produced accounts which contained errors of more than $20 million. But what’s a few score million here or there when state net debt is approaching $10 billion?

The position is so parlous that it makes you wonder why anyone would want to put their hand up to sort out the mess. Clearly, altruism is not yet dead.