Election Aftermath: Woe Is Me
Let us face facts. Coffee has shattered our nerves; takeaways make us slaves to indigestion; Joseph Stalin has made us shrink from the name of socialism, and has destroyed, in the more refined part of the community (of which number I am one), all enthusiasm for uproarious political activity. And now this happens.
Woe is me. A man may as well cut his wrists. A VOICE: I suppose you are referring to the unhappy events of last Saturday fortnight. Deary me, what a catastrophe. It was only 7.30pm. The keg had been tapped and I only had time enough for two pots of bitter when I said to my offsider: "We've had it, mate. We're gone. We're stuffed." I was right. What a black day it was for the labour movement. MYSELF
(very sternly): It would take a depraved imagination to be imbued with pleasure at the prospect of the suffering that is sure to follow. All the vices and blackest passions tricked out in a masquerade dress of free choice are sure to be visited upon us. The great evil is that such reactionary sentiments are now so commonplace. THE VOICE OF REASON: I told you so. MYSELF: I do beg your pardon. If you did tell me, maybe I wasn't listening. I have myself a passion for reform; and, to that end, affixed my hopes to the banner of the Australian Labor Party. The whole secret to success — before my benevolence was so bitterly disappointed — seemed to lie in forming combinations with those who proclaimed to speak for us in the elected chamber of the nation's capital. THE VOICE OF REASON: But whose side were they on? After 13 years in office, what have you or me got to show for it? FIRST VOICE: Watch it, mate. It's what you believe in that counts. MYSELF: Rightly so — and I believed that we were better off with the party that proclaimed its roots deep within the soil of toil than some other, whose allegiances were overwhelmingly wedded to the business classes or one whose rhetoric always seemed somewhat suspect and actions divisive. FIRST VOICE: Too right. If it wasn't for the Labor Party and our loyalty to it, we'd be much worse off today. MYSELF: Precisely. Ours was the only choice available to us and we went with the lesser of two evils, then tried to make the best of it. THE VOICE OF REASON: With your hands tide behind your back. Admit it. When it came down to the line, saving the government was more important than anything else. MYSELF: Sometimes. Yes. THE VOICE OF REASON: Always. Always your bottom line was keeping Labor in office despite — or even regardless of — what it did to us. MYSELF: Such cynicism does not become you. If you must be so surly, then do so somewhere else. I am too depressed to participate in this dialogue. In fact, to put a word on it, I am shattered: shattered that we who gave our all must now suffer in silence while the new government goes about its terrible business. FIRST VOICE: Go on. Be off with you. You can stick your rah-rah street talk of revolution up your bum. We are sick and tired of your harping. MYSELF: Leave me in peace. My world is not a happy place. My dreams have died. Have pity on my grieving soul. It is all too much. Farewell.
Dave Riley