LOOK AT WHAT'S GOING ON DOWN THERE
Four-time Walkley Award winning political commentator and Churchill Fellow, has returned to the fray over concern that the integrity of news dissemination is continually being threatened by a partisan media.
“God! We can’t just sit here and watch this crap! ” “What’s the problem my son?”, asked God. “Look down there, thousands of them, all in masks and cutting other people’s heads off and shooting and bombing things. It’s not very Christian of them.”
“Oh that mob”, said God, stroking his beard, “there have always been a few odd black sheep in my flock... some bloke called Mohammed led them up a garden path. I think he turned up some time after you, Chris.”
“Mohammed! Who the hell is Mohammed?” asked Chris. “Who cares?” said God. “Some galah with a decapitation fetish... he organises lots of virgins, they should be around here somewhere.”
“Oh that’d be right”, said Chris, “so you let Mohammed organise all the virgins while I haven’t seen a bit of crumpet in two thousand years!”
“Get over it, I organised those Women’s Weeklies with all those bra ads for you, anyway, pour me another wine will you.”
“Get it yourself, you really should be more responsible! I mean, what about this ‘peace on earth and good will to all men’ stuff?”, asked Chris, who by now was getting a little hot under the collar.
God stifled a yawn and reached for the wine cask, “Settle down Chris, how many damned religions do you want me to monitor? As long as they all believe in me I’m happy.”
“That’s all right for you, it wasn’t you who got crucified for the sake of mankind, was it? Oh no... you just sat here and copped all the glory!
"Look, I’m bloody over this”, said Chris, “I’m returning and I’m gunna kick that Mohammed bloke right up the arse!”
“You can’t”, said God, “he’s dead, so pass me another bun and a bit of that fish will you?”
“There’s none left” replied Chris. “So he’s dead eh? I s’pose you got him crucified too!”
God leaned forward, cupping his face in his hands, “You don’t know how good you’ve got it ol’ son... you’ve only got one religion to look after, I’ve got hundreds of the bloody things and every single one of them thinks they’re the only one, so if they want to go round killing each other that’s fine by me.
"And anyway, what if you did return, how are you going to fix it? You can’t even organise me another bun!”
“Look”, said Chris, “We can’t just sit here and let all these Mohammed wankers take over! I mean, Christ almighty, he’s just a Johnny come lately and have a look at what they’re all doin’ down there in his name. I’m goin’ back.”
“You’ll get crucified again”, said God, “and this time I’ll wash my hands of it and you can bloody well stay there!”
“So you’d forsake me again?” asked Chris with a soulful look.
“All right, let me have a talk with this Abbott bloke, he always listens... if he can fix up that mess left by Rudd and Gillard, he can fix any bloody thing.
“By the way, that cask is empty.”