September 20, 2013 – 6:31AM
One-woman cabinet: PM Tony Abbott has announced he will take personal responsibility for women’s issues. Photo: Andrew Meares
It’s been almost two weeks since Tony Abbott stood before the nation, the proud winner of So You Think You Can Prime Minister? Now that the votes have been counted, the confetti swept up and the virginal dresses of his support crew sent off to the dry cleaners, it’s time to get down to business.
Part of what endeared Abbott to the viewers was his fondness for three word slogans that appear easy to understand but on closer inspection actually reveal nothing. And so, Tones has pledged to ‘cut the fat’, which in Prime Ministerial speak means, ‘fire a crapload of people’. Don’t worry though, they’re only public servants and everyone knows they don’t deserve jobs.
Where else would a good Prime Ministerial victor start with simplifying things but with the Ministries, with their overblown titles and ‘goal setting’? Australians don’t want all those bloody words filling up their heads. We’re a simple folk. We like beer, football and boobs in that order and we don’t care to analyse it. Tones knows this, which is why we can now proudly face the world and show off the fact we no longer have a Minister for Science, but we’ve still got one for Sport. ‘Straya!
Tony Abbott speaking at the Singleton Rugby Club luncheon. Photo: Phil Hearne
Personally, I don’t reckon Old Mate PM’s gone far enough on this though. Don’t get me wrong – I support cutting namby pamby portfolios about things like ‘climate change’ (more like cLIEmate change, am I right?) and ‘mental health’. In my day, people just got on with things. Sure, they may have been miserably depressed and consumed by the Darkness That Knows No Form, but they didn’t bloody well have to whinge about it all the time like a bloody whoopsie. Gay.
But I reckon there’s room to add a couple of things. You know, restore Australia to its former glory – to a time when white, heterosexual men of privilege didn’t have to be afraid to speak their minds, or apologise for giving the tea lady an affectionate swat on the bottom and telling her you like her muffins. By all means, trim the fat of wasteful rubbish like ‘saving the environment’ (you gotta build out to grow up, people!) but let’s consider honouring some of the following by giving them their own portfolios.
1. Ministry for Ironing and Cleaning
Those people who accuse Tones of not getting women need to do their bloody research, mate. Tony loves women, which is why he so famously expressed concern for how the carbon tax would drive up their electricity bills what with all that ironing we’re always doing. Oh, and you feminazis will shriek and squeal all you like, but we all know that you’re just bitter that you don’t have a man to iron shirts for. Because men and women are different, see? It doesn’t mean they’re not equal – but women are probably better suited to things like physiotherapy and housework, while men are suited to running things. That’s why the Minister for Ironing and Cleaning has to be a man – because they delegate. And they’re good with numbers, so they can help you add up all of the collars you still have left to do.
2. Ministry for Mateship
Nothing spells A-U-S-T-R-A-L-I-A better than M-A-T-E-S-H-I-P. We love our mates here, but not in that way. The Ministry for Mateship would celebrate all of the beautiful friendship that’s characterised by the good old Aussie larrikin spirit. Like masculinised mythology, and men’s only sporting leagues with their men’s only pay checks. The Ministry for Mateship recognises that part of what makes Australia great is how feverishly it embraces alcoholic male bonding. Let’s bring back foxy boxing and jelly wrestling, gentlemen’s only networking clubs and socially acceptable group sex in which there’s only one woman and no one talks to her! It’s mateship, mate. Because you can’t spell friendships without ‘pissed’.
3. Ministry for Marriage
Real marriage, I mean. Not that other ‘fashionable’ marriage. The gay kind where no one knows who’s the man or who’s the woman. How can you get married if you don’t know which one’s supposed to throw the bouquet? No, the Ministry for Marriage would make it easier [read: harder] to get out of love contracts once you’ve made the mistake of getting into them. God created marriage so that men could come home at the end of the day to a clean house and scotch, and a piping hot dinner on the table when he’s ready for it. He didn’t create marriage so that women could keep their own names and insist on working even though they’ve already achieved their life’s goal of procreating. All this freedom puts funny ideas into women’s heads, and as a delicate species they’re not properly equipped to handle the pressures of the world at large. It’s because they’re physiologically different, see. Anyway, the Ministry for Marriage would put a stop to all that rubbish. Headed up by Barnaby Joyce (who knows that marriage offers the best protection to women, against what I’m not particularly sure but that’s Barns for you), the Ministry for Marriage is the first step to fixing Australia and sending it back to the good old days of 1956.
Which is a handy coincidence, given that the newly appointed Minister for Sport is back there too, busily preparing for the upcoming Melbourne Olympics.
Good thing Abbott’s building all those roads. Cars! It’s the future!