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Mike Oscar
6th Apr 2002, 20:38
After what witnesses described as an all night blinder during which it kept droning on about how it was always being bloody ignored by the whole bloody world and would bloody well stand to do something about it, Australia this morning woke up to find itself in the middle of the North Atlantic.


"Good Lord, that was a booze up," said a bleary-eyed Australian Prime Minister, John Howard, speaking from his residence at Kirribilli House, approximately 600 nautical miles east of Cape Hatteras, North Carolina.

According to Australians and residents of several countries destroyed or lewdly insulted during the continent's nearly 7,000-mile saltwater stagger, the binge began just after noon yesterday at a pub in Brisbane, where several patrons were discussing Australia Day (Jan. 26) and the nation's general lack of respect from abroad.

"It started off same as always; coupla fossils saying how our Banjo Patterson was a better poet than Walt Whitman, how Con the Fruiterer is funnier than Seinfeld, only they're Aussies so no one knows about 'em," recalled witness Kevin Porter. "Then this bloke Martin pipes up and says Australia's main problem is that it's stuck in Australia, and everybody says 'Too right!'"

"Well, it made sense at the time," Porter added.

By 2 a.m., powered by national pride and alcohol, the 3-million-square-mile land mass was barging eastward through the Coral Sea and crossing into the central Pacific, leaving a trail of beer cans and Chinese take-away in its wake.

When dawn broke over the Northern Hemisphere, the continent suddenly found itself, not only upside down, but smack in the middle of the Atlantic, and according to most of its 19 million inhabitants, that's the way it's going to stay.

"We sent troops to Afghanistan. You never hear about it. We have huge government scandals. You never hear about it. It's all 'America did this,' and 'Europe says that,'" exclaimed Perth resident Paul Watson. "Well, we're right in the thick of things now, so let's just see if you can you ignore us."

Officials on both sides of the Atlantic conceded that would be difficult. "They broke Florida," said U.S. State Department spokesman Richard Boucher. "And most of Latin America is missing."

Meanwhile, victims of what's already been dubbed the "Australian Crawl" are still shaking off the event.

"Australia bumped into us at about midnight local time," said Hawaii governor Ben Cayetano. "They were very friendly — they always seem friendly — but they refused to go around unless we answered their questions. But the questions were impossible. 'Who is Ian Thorpe? Do you have any Tim Tams? What day is Australia Day?'"

"Fortunately, somebody here had an Unimportant World Dates calendar and we aced the last one," Cayetano added.


Panama, however, was not so lucky.

"Australia came through here screaming curses at us to let them through," said Ernesto Carnal, who guards the locks at the entrance to the Panama Canal. "We said they would not fit, so they demanded to speak with a manager. When I go to find Mr. Caballos, they sneak the whole continent through."

When Caballos shouted to the fleeing country that it had not paid, Australia "accidentally" backed up and took out every nation in the region, as well as the northern third of Venezuela. They then made up a cheery song about it.

By late morning today, however, not everyone in Australia was quite so blithe. "We've still got part of Jamaica stuck to Queensland," said Australian army commander Lt. Gen. Peter Cosgrove. "I think we might have declared war on it. I don't bloody remember. Maybe it's time to go home."

Cosgrove, however, is not in the majority, and at press time, U.S., African, and European leaders were still desperately trying to negotiate for Australia's withdrawal. But the independent-minded Aussies were not making it easy. In a two-hour meeting at midday, Australian representatives listed their demands: immediate inclusion in the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, a permanent CNN presence in all 6 Australian states, a worldwide ban on hiring Paul Hogan, a primetime U.S. television contract for Australian Rules Football, and a 4,500-mile-long bridge between Sydney and Los Angeles.

U.S. negotiators immediately walked out, calling the Australian Rules Football request "absurd."

SFly
7th Apr 2002, 05:25
:D :D :D :D
Very good . . . except the 'broke Florida' part.
Gave me a good belly laugh that did.
SFly:D :D :D :D

BlueDiamond
7th Apr 2002, 05:42
I wondered why I felt a bit cold this morning.

:D

ORAC
7th Apr 2002, 07:23
Satirewire again.

SatireWire (http://www.satirewire.com/news/jan02/australia.shtml)

redsnail
7th Apr 2002, 15:51
Bwaahahaahahaah
Fantastic stuff. :D

rover2701
7th Apr 2002, 16:30
Mike Oscar
Why didnt you credit 'SatireWire' with this article. Naughty chap and I thought it was your own work.

obnoxio f*ckwit
7th Apr 2002, 19:32
Perhaps we could chip off Northern Ireland and parts of Wales and send them round to where Strineland used to be?

And France.

Davaar
7th Apr 2002, 21:41
Great news about Australia!

Until I became a PPRuNer I cared little about Oz, bounded on the East by a reef, on the North by Cape York, on the West by not much, and on the South by a bight. Over to the right is Goondiwindi, home of the beautiful Nurse Cook, who kept me alive thirty years ago. Are you there Nurse Cook? I love you, Nurse Cook. But there was not much else. In the middle, sheep (or as we say in Ontario, jumbucks) led by Chips Rafferty. Going where? No one knew. Not even the sheep. Yes, I knew but little.

Then Flapsforty asked why we PPRuNe, and I realised why: a Change had come over me. I had become just another Warm and Caring Lawyer, aware of Oz through PPRuNe; saving to buy a telescope for Binoculars; worried sick about Mrs Cooda, a’e fond kiss as Shooda sets out to the office, there in Darwin, she by the bush telegraph. In his waltz across the parking lot did the crocs get him today? I worry about The Shadow in Perth: is he out again not only hatless but corkless? And has Blue Diamond safely run the gauntlet of the boxing ’roos? Has Paterson forgotten his banjo? Is a squatter boiling a swagman? Worries, worries, worries.

But worst of all are the arachnids. Okay for us here, you say. The snow lies round about, deep and crisp and even. We see an occasional poor man gathering winter fuel, sure, but the Davaars are on the oil central heating, so we send out a page, or maybe just a paragraph, with a bowl of soup. Davaar is just back from a trip to Iqaluit, on Baffin Island. Temperatures between -35° Celsius and - 45° Celsius. The week before it was down to - 67° Celsius. Bracing seaside climate, but not a spider in sight.

Not so in Australia. They are everywhere. What to do? Davaar was at school with one of the world’s leading arachnophiles. Expert guidance at hand, and spurred by fear for my cobbers, I wrote:

Quote:

While engaged in a study – preliminary to a day’s drive – of the known habitat, or more accurately, habitant, of large hairy spiders, I learned of your address and interest in these big fellows. My own loathing is indiscriminate, but focused now on the smaller ones, not the large hairies. Still, I am sure you know about both.

In some places, notably Australia, they have very small spiders that are agile, athletic even, run fast and jump. They are poisonous too and can inject or otherwise transmit, we need not quibble over a verb, a venom that can kill a human being. This is one reason for my never having visited Australia. That and the sharks, of course, but since I am an indifferent swimmer and confine immersion to the shower, while they are very good swimmers, but mostly in the ocean, the chance of our meeting is remote. We can leave the sharks aside, together with the barracuda and the Moray eels, green or spotted. I shudder even to think of the arachnid species in Rwanda, scorpions included.

You see where I am headed. Chap Darwin; says species develop by trial and error, or rather by trial and success; and the successes, not the errors, determine survival of the species. Now humans have been around Australia for not very long; not even, on the evolutionary postulation, the aboriginals; so whatever the incentive for the swift poisonous little spiders to develop their venom, delivery system, and sprint, it was something pre-human.

It seems to me, and here I am pushing the envelope of knowledge, that the said v, d s, and s must have been developed either as means of Offence or DEfence, as in hockey and football commentaries. I notice, though, that arachnids are vocally as cryptic as the sporting stars, so it is pointless to ask them directly.

Let’s start with the Offence. Animals need an Offensive capability to kill for food or territory. Can’t quarrel with that.

But how much territory does any brown jumping spider, even Olympic class, need? If not much, why does it have such a devastating Offensive capability? Does it really need to kill, say, a kangaroo or in the dear dead days a mastodon just to find a spot to sleep? How many big enemies is a b j s likely to have? Mind you, I am sure the jumping takes it out of you a bit.

Let’s turn to the food. How much can a teeny weeny, albeit ill-natured, spider eat at the one sitting? These fellows do not, and this is some relief, exist by the horde, army or column, as in ants, red, white, soldier, fire, or any other class that the ants can produce; so there is no large collective hunger for animal protein. By the way, I do not much like ants either. So why does one little spider need the ability to kill me?

Not to be disingenuous, I know perfectly well why he wants to kill me. I have a can of Raid constantly at hand to kill him if I see him first; but he had the capability before Raid was invented, and I resort to chemical warfare only because I am scared of him, as he knows. I have tried, as in this letter, to conceal this, but you may have worked it out for yourself; so I’ll just confess it here and now. Anyway, why did he need the force de frappe?

Then there is the DEfensive capability. Some say they want to DEfend their territory and their loved ones, though here again, frankly, I have doubts about the depth of their love. Especially the women. Quite feminist, many of them. Man-killers and Vamps. Just like lady lawyers in “family practice”. Don’t try to distract me with double talk about pre-moulting syndrome, or PMS.

You may think that I know nothing of arachnids, but that would overstate my ignorance. I don’t know much, but I know more than nothing. I know, for example, that when I am stalking one, he can see me. I did not always know that, but now I do. Even the non-jumping sloth spiders we have here are up to that trick, and sometimes they run away just at the crucial moment.

More than that, even when I have given him the squirt of Raid, he curls up in a ball and plays dead; but he is not dead. Relax for a moment, and next thing you know, the crafty little devil is off and away below the door or the table or the sink. Dodgy, I call that. This duplicity is disconcerting at any time, but when I am clad in naught but my loveliness and my negligée in preparation for slumber I do not, I assure you, treat it lightly, especially when, as happens, I am not sure where he went. This I do know: wherever he went, he is watching me, and waiting his chance. Watching and besetting. Then my SOP is to have the emergency generator fired up, the floodlights lit, and the entire household up and armed with Raid and hammers. Mrs Davaar is ruthless. For my own part, if he really wants the house, he can have it.

But which kangaroo, dingo, duck-billed platypus, didgeridoo, billabong, coolibah-tree, tucker-bag, colonial boy or other predator can even see one of these cursed brown jumping jobs, far less pursue it, and why in any event would it or he want to? Just as the b j s cannot, in the nature of things, need much in the way of red meat, so per contra it cannot provide much, and who would want it anyway? Against which hostile inclination is this massive overkill required? You see my problem.

This entire story seems to me so inconsistent with any need for natural selection, that it has brought me to Doubts in Darwin. I think maybe God arranged this for a greater purpose, thus far hidden from us, yet to be revealed.

Unquote.

Well, that was in January. I suppose he is very busy, because so far I have received no reply, and there was not much in the interim I could do for Oz. Now that Oz has moved to the mid-Atlantic, the weather will be cooler, the b j s will dig deep in the earth, or maybe even die.

Does anyone live on Christmas Island? I have just learned of the red crab menace. I am working on that one.

Mike Oscar
8th Apr 2002, 07:51
You're right....I should have credited Satire Wire for this and the two other posts I did at the same time. No intention to claim it was my work. I wish!

Only just discovered Satire Wire. Superb.

MO

Gunner B12
8th Apr 2002, 07:58
davaar

but when I am clad in naught but my loveliness and my negligée in preparation for slumber I do not, I assure you, treat it lightly, especially when, as happens, I am not sure where he went. This I do know: wherever he went, he is watching me, and waiting his chance. Watching and besetting. Then my SOP is to have the emergency generator fired up, the floodlights lit, and the entire household up and armed with Raid and hammers. Mrs Davaar is ruthless. For my own part, if he really wants the house, he can have it.

Does mrs Davaar have anything to say about your negligee wearing habits?

:D :D :D :D :D :D