Like a Well-Fermented Fart

Preamble to  “A Moron in a Hurry” —  Sir Roger v Gough’s Gouls

Strangely enough this title could be, but isn’t, about the next election. It’s about Labor Icon Gruff Wiblam and his pale irritation Steel Rod.

As you may be aware it is no longer 2007 and John Howard is not a Prime Minister any longer, merely still a silly irrelevant old shit.

Sir Roger, overwhelmed at the time (2007) by the urgent need to remove the irrelevant but malignant old cunt, and replace him with Steel Rod, launched a wildly unsuccessful campaign to bring back an emblem of the dizzy dreams of hope from the early 70s – the “It’s Thyme” t-shirt.

Sir Roger had quite forgotten that he had created a sparkling opportunity to ignore this … er … opportunity which apparently no-one saw or, certainly, wanted.

Well, the UWS rozzer for the Whittling Institute has been onto Sir Roger by email (a bit like being dumped by text) with an order to cease and desist.

Anyway, you can’t get the shirt. It doesn’t exist. The opportunity is dead as Marley’s doornail.

The commercial ex-premises have been boarded up like an outback dunny in a sandstorm and bulldozed into the silage pit.

Sir Roger apologises profusely if you, dear reader, ever for a moment suspected that a t-shirt splashed with the ValuesAustralia.com logo was in any way sanctioned either by Teh Great Man himself, or indeed by his now legally wagon-encircled, immortally corporate self.

Sir Roger was slightly miffed that the letter-writer, who he suspects was in fact the junior office girl, wrote in that formal and threatening language which seems to the clean-living and unwary to accuse one of all manner of the vilest of premeditated and vicious crimes and to suggest that the recipient is the lowest bastard in the world if not a baby-eater – or worse, a catholic priest – when they could as easily have written, “Dear Sir, you may not have realised that [blah blah] and your intentions may have been honourable, but we would like you to not do that any more, please. We’d rather not, for both our sakes, have to ask you again if you don’t mind. Let’s know if you object. Love and kisses, Helen (via Allison).”

Sir Roger’s response, since he had no evil intent – quite the opposite – would have been the same, to help them out with their problem.

Except . . . .

Except for the excitement Sir Roger feels in anticipation of his now sanctioned like-minded retaliation (which you can be certain he will share with you).

He hasn’t anticipated so much fun since the Department of Something or Other threw the book at Values Australia and dropped it on their own foot.

He does, though, feel for the poor lawyers.

Much as they might have desperately wished they could write an understanding and thoughtful letter, they simply cannot. Their hands and pens and minds are chained to the formula and the style guides they learnt while articled. There is only one way to write such a letter and they must do it.

In this most free of countries lawyers, of all people, have no professional freedom. In their hearts they wish they could change the world for the better the way they dreamed, in the idealistic glow of youth, when they watched Boston Legal – or perhaps in Helen’s case, Perry Mason – but instead they sit in rooms lined with boring books doing unutterably boring, endlessly repetitive and eye-wateringly trivial things like conveyancing, or sending form letters to the wicked.

And that is why on Friday nights some of the lawyers Sir Roger has known blow up and get pissed to the eyeballs and shame themselves.

Sir Roger is so sad for so many lawyers’ existential struggle to mean anything.

Meanwhile, he is unfettered by any such constraints. Every day is a new excitement and a new challenge and an opportunity to influence his world and he has the freedom to write whatever he wishes.

Sir Roger will now seek legal advice whether:

1) he is permitted to use the phrase “Its Thyme” , in daily personal conversation about political matters, or whether he would need a tip jar to send off royalties on a monthly(?) basis to the corporate rozzers, and

2) whether he will now be required to return to himself the price he paid for the item [actually, is it okay to use the word “item” as it is strikingly similar to the word “time” and in any case may itself be trademarked? In fact how can we be sure that any word or phrase we use in certain contexts is not trademarked or otherwise proscribed?

Be careful people, or the University of Western Sydney will be down on you like a ton tonne of pricks!].