Magnificent, full-bodied moustaches aside...

Column: Egads!   |   Date Published: Wednesday, 26 August 15   |   Author: Gideon Foxington-Smythe   |   1 year, 10 months ago

It is an oft-quoted and general truism that those who actively seek power are those who should be actively denied it. This is not something with which I have had to contend – influence, as it often is, being continually bestowed upon me without it having been sought, thanks to the dazzling nature and enticing allure of my magnificent, full-bodied moustache.

Magnificent, full-bodied moustaches aside, anyone who seeks the highest office their land has to offer must be sufficiently ego-driven to have their intentions called into question. If I expressed a barely containable desire to hoof a passing dachshund into the nearest body of water, my cravings could be framed as mildly eccentric, but ultimately sound. Should those yearnings constitute the power to govern all my compatriots however I saw fit, the launching of a small dog into a lake appears positively honourable by comparison.

And yet we enthusiastic dog-kickers are often frowned upon while self-ascribed ‘leaders’ are lauded as noble creatures operating at the vanguard of community progress. It is a positively muddled state of affairs.

Having spent a fair amount of time recently traversing the exhaustive corridors of your national Parliament, placing well-meaning manila envelopes stuffed with tainted cash into the hands of suitably positioned elected representatives, I have noticed a sizeable number of young self-satisfied people performing most any whim of their political overlords.

These young men and women so obviously have their eyes on the prize – the prize, as they see it, of a fast?track to political representation, and the gradual slide from the inconsequential backbenches to junior ministry to full minister to Prime Minister. They believe that spending time in particular buildings satisfying particular people will see them better equipped to implement effective government.

No dog-kickers, these. They would rather permit a dog that not moments earlier had its face up another dog’s arse, to lick their cheeks, were it to guarantee the backing of the dog-enthusiast faction of whichever political party they intend to straddle to influence.

But this isn’t about dogs. Or is it? Are these fawning pubescents not fulfilling a similar role to man’s most favoured four-legged football? Fetching this, nuzzling that? No doubt they see this submission as a necessary step on the road towards alpha supremacy – happy to be gelded, cuckolded, or in any other way embarrassed, all the while compiling a list of those whom shall be made to pay come their inevitable rise.

Well I, for one, won’t stand for this scheming youthful ambition, and it is for this reason that upon my last visit to Parliament, having handed out my financial motivations, I took to giving the canine population of Canberra a breather and booted as many preened, haughty little upstarts through the corridors as I could.

I estimate that I managed to wound or seriously harm as many as 25 before being sufficiently restrained, and I remain confident that this civil service will be repaid by both the wider community and any of the nasty little upstarts who happen to ascend to power.


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