Diplomatic Notebook

Sir Les Patterson

18 October 2008

Sir Les Patterson writes from Australia

I got a mayday from her only the other week when I was in Wall Street trying to sort out the Seppo money crisis. She was ranting and raving down the blower and it was a real case of what the doctor calls ‘roid rage’ due to the frustration of not being able to bung in the capsules. ‘What are neighbours for?’ I said to her gently. ‘There must be a kiddy across the street who’s keen to earn a bit of pocket money.’ And I guess pocket money is the appropriate term. Normally speaking, I wouldn’t discuss my wife’s intimate problem in public like this, but due to my long absences overseas at the taxpayer’s expense, Gwen’s problem is pretty well known in our neighbourhood, and quite a few young kids in our area have tended to exploit my wife’s vulnerability, I’m sorry to say.

Back here in Australia, the powers that be are driving me nuts getting me to be a mentor and mediator to some of our political loose cannons. Mind you, we were lucky our great nation was founded by convicts, scallywags and red-blooded randy bastards, and not Puritans like America. We have a long and colourful history of eminent politicians who have been caught with their pants down — and proud of it! Prominent amongst these was a former prime minister who went to a conference in Memphis, had a few sherbets with a hostie at the bar, and ended up in the small hours wandering around the hotel lobby wearing little more than a nice shirt and a pair of budgie-smugglers! Then there was our one-time treasurer, who took a friendly little lass to a motel in Sydney, registered under another name, and croaked on the job. The poor bastard thought he had ticked all the boxes, but the box tosser was too much for the box ticker, who hadn’t counted on rigor mortis. That Governor Spitzer in New York who was caught bumping uglies with a hornbag in Washington would be a hero in Australia. And look at the fuss the Seppo media made when Britney got out of the car in her short frock and flashed her tarantula. When I offer a lift to a research assistant I get them to check their knickers at the car door, no worries!

Previous page 1 | 2 | 3 Next page

More articles from: Sir Les Patterson | this section

Print this article | Email to a friend | Permalink | Comments (4)

Post this entry to: del.icio.us | Digg | Newsvine | NowPublic | Reddit

Post comment

John McCarthy

October 18th, 2008 2:09am Report this comment

There's not much hope for the success of your Australian section if you continue to print Barry Humphries' juvenalia. You clearly do not understand just how he is loathed by many Australians for his sycophantic Anglophilia and undergraduate crudity.

Andrew Cunningham

October 19th, 2008 5:52am Report this comment

There is not much chance of taking John McCarthy's Comments seriously. If he wishes to impress us with his sensitive intellect and his loathing for crude Anglophile Barry Humphries, he should at least learn to tell the difference between Humphries' juvenalia and his juvenilia. Unless Humphries is organising chariot races and combats of wild beasts.