Dear Minister Letters
Telling Tony He’s Terminal
Dear Prime Minister,
Never in my twenty-five years of political activism have I witnessed a more mongrel misfit as prime minister.
Only last week I was at a TAFE teachers’ retreat where the general feeling was that you were treating education like going to the pub. There’s something for all tastes and you can consume as much as you like but you still have to pay off your tab down the track.
I am deadset mortified at the way you’re treating my ABC. It’s my only bulwark against the rising tide of effluent from Rupert who is trying to make me as septic as he is.
You’ve really crapped out over the co-payments calamity. Do you think that people like me actually like going to the doctor? Are you seriously suggesting we should get slugged for having our medical records digitised as well as our rectum?
I had to laugh when you were criticised for not having enough females in your cabinet. Eric Abetz, Joe Hockey, Andrew Robb, Peter Dutton and Kevin Andrews are the biggest load of old women I’ve ever come across.
I’ve got nothing against you personally except for the fact you’re a mate of George Pell, a North Shore silvertail, a union basher, an ABC basher, a Julia basher and are resistant to change especially in regard to the climate.
Listen Tony, and I’m only saying this for your own good, it’s time you packed it in and called full-time on Hockey. Reshuffling the seats in the cabinet isn’t going to help mate because your career is coming to a Titanic end.
Look I know that thanks to Clive you’ve had a bit of luck with repealing the carbon and mining taxes and forcing asylum seekers to fly Qantas, but if you can’t get a budget passed sooner or later even Bill Shorten’s going to notice.
I’d hate to see you go the same way as Dennis Napthine and not get stabbed because that would mean I’ll have to suffer you for almost another two years until the next election.
Cec Poole BA. Dip. Ed