Last night I dreamt that I had not only locked myself out of my house... I had locked myself out of my house WITHOUT ANY PANTS.
Hey Dr. Cam! A random 1980's television sitcom called. They want their humourous dream sequence back.
Hey, fuck you, 1980s television sitcom!
In Other News! There was an election the other day. The side I voted for won. It was pretty satisfying, but more satisfying will be watching the various factions of the Liberal Party eat each other. I spoke to a rather pessimistic Russell Broadbent on Saturday night. I was like, "Russell, it looks like you've won your seat again," and he was like, "Oh, but Cam, only the country booths are in. They know me in the country, Cam. We may see things turn when the city booths are counted."
I was like, oh please, sir. It was pretty obvious that he had won. It was, however, too early in the peace for Mr. Broadbent to comment on which direction the Libs would take if they were voted out of office. I hope he trips Alex Hawke up in the House, and Hawke will be like, "What the fuck?" and Broady will be like, "Dude, you have to watch where you're walking."
I love Russell Broadbent, even if he doesn't support BRIDGES THAT GO AROUND THE ENTIRE WORLD.
Also, he may be a very distant cousin. SHOCK!
I was pretty laid back about the result on the night. I was on the wireless, so I had to appear un-biased, but it didn't sink in just how calmly I was taking the news until I spoke to the son of a Labor candidate who was positively FLIPPING OUT OF HIS FREAKING BRAIN at the prospect of the demise of John Winston Howard.
NAME DROPPING SEGMENT
So, on Friday, just after I had a short chat with Martin (Oh, Martin Kingham, assistant National Secretary of the CFMEU) I was having a bit of a chinwag with Bob (Father Bob Maguire, don't you know) when suddenly my phone rang. It was Peter.
You know, Peter Hore. The serial pest.
"What will you do, Peter," I asked, "in the unlikely event that you don't topple Kevin Rudd in the seat of Griffith tomorrow?"
Oh, various things. He planned to come back to Victoria one day. He is, apparently, a modern day Ned Kelly.
"I would," he told me, "like to pour red paint over the statue of Redmond Barry at the State Library."
"That's very interesting," I told him, "because I am currently standing across from that statue and it is currently covered in a Eureka flag."
Oh, how he laughed. It was, I was told, not mere co-incidence, but in fact Cosmic.