BY DERMOTT RYDER
Peter Costello, Liberal leadership hopeful and feral federal treasurer, in his budget has perpetrated the most savage attacks on the living conditions, medical care and welfare of workers, unemployed, disabled, the sick and elderly of Australia ever recorded.
His leader, with this ambitious treasurer's support, has created an underclass. The poor are getting poorer and more numerous. Education, once perceived to be a right for all, is becoming the preserve of the chosen few.
The wealthy, as insecure as the poor, have embraced the cynical indifference of the morally bankrupt political right. Unfortunately, much of what was the political left is now centre-right, so there is little resistance and less hope from that feebly flapping wing. The never-ending rumours of Labor's factional blood letting and nightly news images of the great, beaming western souffle trying to rise twice indicates a hard road ahead for the true believers.
However, we must look on the bright side. This is a duty, a proud, national characteristic; or a monument to self-delusion.
It occurred to me that we will need something to amuse us as we stand and shuffle in the wind and rain in the dole queues and at the soup kitchens of Peter Costello's brave new world.
With this compelling thought in mind, I created a performance piece for buskers that will record for posterity the contributions of Costello to our society and, at the same time, warm our hearts with dance and song.
The flamboyant music-hall style of Burlington Bertie (as played by Miss Vesta Tilley), the voice of Rex Harrison and the dancing skills of Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly, must have a major influence on the presentation of the song. In performance, top hat, tails, a long white scarf and a walking stick are essential props. Imported champagne will also add a very special touch of elegance; clean water in an appropriate bottle will work just as well.
However, for the more classically inclined, the jackal mask of Egyptian mythology may seem more appropriate. Unfortunately, this choice, spectacular though it may be, tends to muffle the voice, inhibit the dance and frighten the kiddie-winks.
It will also irritate Osiris. This is not a good move. My advice is, stick to the top hat and tails, and practice, practice, practice, Peter Costello's winning smile.
I'm Peter Costello,
I'm a very fine fellow,
I travel through life with a smirk,
I'm lean, mean and cunning,
so hard times they are coming
to all of you cripples who shirk.
Old and sick you may grumble,
as for small coins you fumble,
poor buggers you've all had your day,
you are costing too much,
for pill, potion and crutch,
euthanasia is coming your way.
The rich can have welfare,
now I know that it's not fair,
but the well off will give me their vote,
Medicare will go under,
and the workers I'll plunder,
with my elegant claw at their throat.
Corporations will love me,
and as God is above me,
I know they'll be willing to share,
the high margins I'll bring,
when my hat's in the ring,
and I need a donation to spare.
I'm Peter Costello,
I'm outwardly mellow,
but I'm devious and roguish and bold,
I'm ambitious and sinister,
and I'll soon be Prime Minister,
when John Howard is out in the cold.
I'm Peter, I'm Peter,
no-one could be sweeter,
my brother's a vicar, you know,
may his God give me wings,
and mark great things,
and the party, at last,
make it so.
From Green Left Weekly, May 21, 2003.
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