You get out of work after a day of wrangling telecommunications engineers, a day when you've had a blinding headache only just kept at bay with disprin. It's the day when you've had yet another round of "Death by PowerPoint" and you're just happy to be outside strolling home on a nippy but bright Autumn day.
It's the day when you feel like you're a retriever with your head out of the window the moment you step out of work - as nothing is happier than a retriever with it's head out of the car window as it travels down the road, the wind flapping its ears.
It was the night where I sneaked in a macaron, just to make the evening a little better - and it sort of helped with the headache and gave a small rush of energy for the walk home.
I made my way across Spring Street and walked next to Treasury Gardens enjoying the cool air on my face.
Just lovely.
And there in front of me coming out of one of the government buildings. There he was. Security tow.
I was within feet of our Prime Minister, Tony Abbott.
AAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH.
I've rehearsed this moment in my head thousands of times.
What do you do when this person you hold with the same esteem as you do a paedophilic rapist, an animal abuser or a herd of Essendon supporters?
The things that I've wanted to say include:
"I rue the day you were born."
"Crawl back under your rock, Luddite."
"Hey, Prime Minister for the Infrastructure - telecommunications are important infrastructure too!"
"Piss of back to England you fascist, elitist wanker."
"Don't touch the royals - not a good look."
"Seriously, Minister for Women? Show us your tits and your last mammogram results."
"Get a new f*&^ing tie. That blue one is getting very old."
"Why is the NBN now the MBM (Malcolm's Bloody Mess)?"
"Are you and Margie really separated?"
"You should be in prison for how you bullied Julia Gillard!"
"When are you going to do a Harry Holt and drown?"
Okay, these are the just publishable things I've wanted to yell out.
Anybody who's been around me when he comes on the telly knows that I'm very apt at pointing two fingers at him and yelling, "Bang". (Used to do that to John Howard too.. little good it did.) He gets told to go away in a very loud voice too - the neighbours have had words about me screaming at the telly.
My computer is sort of immune to Tony Abbott as I've installed an add on called "Stop Tony Meow" that changes any picture of him into that of a kitten. (See http://stoptonymeow.com/ if you want a copy for yourself).
So. I'm within spitting distance of our Prime Minister and his goons.
What do I do?
Not much.
It was all a bit surreal. This guy with a comb over, blue tie, who looked bloody miserable, walking like Popeye next to some government buildings is walking towards you. He's shorter than you think. He really does walk like Popeye - reminds me of an old manager of mine who used to work the submarines.
It takes a few seconds to get me out of my Retriever with it's head out of the window happiness and work out that this person who I really wish would just go away and get out of my news bandwidth.
Me, I just kept walking, though I gave him my best death stare.
Thing is, he looked miserable enough already.
And I really wasn't in the mood to get manhandled by goons or arrested. Besides, I've got to get to dream group.
It must be complete crap being a politician. Okay, we all know that Abbott has skin thicker than a week old custard tart. We know he's a Luddite, a neo-conservative, climate change denying buffoon with no dress sense, etiquette, manners or social conscience.
How horrible it must be.
I'm glad I kept my composure, stayed silent and got to get the withering look in - the same look you give dog shit when you find it on your shoe.
Thing is, no matter how completely horrible a person I find the Mephistopheles** Cardboard Cut out Prime Minister, the good, kind, compassionate person in me does not have it in me to make somebody's day even worse.
I walked past and started to kick myself.
I've had my opportunity!
Seriously though, as much as I loathe this man and some of the things his government are doing, hatred is not the answer.
I pity him. I pity him and his party's lack of vision, lack of compassion, lack of reason and lack of hope.
Personally, I think being pitied is far, far worse than being hated.
Hate is just destructive. No point in it.
Pity weakens the agressor. It also allows for change.
**Mephistopheles - sold his soul to the devil. Look it up.
2 comments:
Mark Twain said that 'Anger is an acid which does more damage to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured.' Which is equally true of hate. But I admire your fortitude in not at least hissing and spitting. I am not certain I am as strong.
Hi Pand,
Bloody Hell! Talk about self-control!
To be fair, I am sure you are not alone in your hatred of him; I imagine there are other people who tell him exactly what they think of him - which is probably why he looks so bloody miserable.
:-)
Cheers
PM
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