“The League is very well when sparrows shout, but no good at all when eagles fall out.” Mussolini
Aussies are the last free people on earth, but they are a stupid pack of wankers who have no idea that their freedom is being swindled away from them by Armani suit wearing, seafood swilling corporate pigs.
Grandad sat all angry at the dinner table and said that no-one understands what him and his mates did for us in World War One. Back then I didn’t get it, assumed he had to glorify the War, to justify the horror of his caved in head, to quiet the machine gun fire he screamed about from his bed. But one day, I said —Sell it to me, Grandad…make me believe that killing can ever justify its end, that murdering someone’s Father, Uncle, Brother, Lover or friend, can make us better men. He gazed at me a while, gently shook his head, rose and fetched his pipe, tapped it on the mantle, sat, and began:
—Son, I’m not talking about the fight…atrocious? Too right! I’m speaking of what we won. Australia became a sovereign state, all of us, free men, no longer subjects of bastard inbreds who claim empires, while standing on heads. And those damn politicians, treasonous sons of thieves, swearing allegiance to old fucking-family-money—the incestual disease of policies conceived in greed—those arseholes in Canberra and their double speak, the anger they wake in me!
He punches the teapot from the table.
Grandma shakes her head, tut-tutting, fetches a sponge from the sink.
© Brentley 2010