Earlier this year the Devious Dropkick, Labor premier of Tasmania, launched a pre-election diatribe at the Greens Party labelling them as ‘evil’. His clear inference was that a coalition with them would be akin to putting his head into the mouth of a lion who is suffering from chronic hay fever.

On a recent Lateline the Devious Dropkick described his party’s coalition with the Greens as a haven of harmony based on profound mutual trust and respect. It was hard to believe he had originally tried to deny Tasmanians this utopia of unanimity by going into the election with the aim of the Labor Party governing in its own right.

It all sounded too lovely for words until the interviewer revealed that the coalition government’s greatest achievement to date was establishing a study group into gay marriage. This congenital coalition inaction however has an upside. The coalition partners prevent each other from implementing braindead party policies.

The coalition government in the UK between the Conservatives and the Liberal Democrats has not become the train-wreck so confidently forecast by the Labor Party. This is because David Cameron has turned out to be slightly to the left of Nick Clegg and the Labor Party are so confused they don’t know whether they’re pinkies, greenies or Brownies.

The coalition government has surprised everyone taking drastic action to keep the UK out of bankruptcy. This has really pissed the left wing of the Labor Party who have been pursuing bankrupt policies for years. It’s also pissed sections of the Liberal Democrats but what’s a bit of serious cost cutting if by some unintended electoral malfunction you’ve unexpectedly made it into government.

Italy has always been governed by coalitions because they have a much better understanding of congenital chaos. Italian voters are so coalition minded they don’t appreciate there could be more efficient ways of governing the joint. But that’s the political legacy of a country where presidents are kept in power by the unanimous vote of their mistresses.

In Australia we’ve had a coalition for years and it’s a dire waring to all those who think this form of government offers hope for the future

The punters who believe independents are the answer to the country’s parliamentary malaise are obviously suffering post election brain damage. Rob Oakeshott seems a particular challenge. He suggested that Malcolm should join Julia’s cabinet or Kevin should join Tony’s cabinet. That sounded like a commendably even-handed approach to creating rampant chaos no matter which party forms government.

Tony Windsor claims to dislike the Nationals, the Labor Party, the Greens and Tony. This seems like a promising basis for forming an unstable coalition government.

Bob Katter’s a chatter whose natter can batter, shatter or splatter not flatter his hatter at Parramatta Regatta. In fact the latter could scatter in tatters with his head on a platter.

The conclusion is that most coalitions operate like the United Nations, a homogeneous body of do-nothingness. Come to think of it Julia might describe them as parliamentary citizens assemblies.

For more political satire, please visit www.fridaymash.com

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About the Author:
Friday Mash represents a new breed of satirical humour with funny cartoons, political commentary, and humor.
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After watching the floods in Pakistan and reading about the doctor and charity workers murdered in Afghanistan, I, inadvertently found myself in hospital. It was a complete surprise visit. But, you know what they’re like: paramedics, ambulance, wheel-chair. I knew I had passed the point of no return. I would be at least a couple of days on a ward, while they did all the tests.

As I was being wheeled, like some latter-day Cleopatra, through miles and miles of pristine corridors, with their bays and cubicles, calmly staffed by the professionals, my heart filled with emotion. I thought of all those drowning homelands and the dispossessed, with their children and old folk, all searching the dry land.

“How lucky we are and so ungrateful,” I thought, as tears welled up and ran down my face.

I thought of the medical team destroyed in the harsh region where medical aid is practically unheard of. I thought of all that suffering.

Greatly humbled, I was quickly and efficiently dealt with, soon given a bed and a locker. I knew it! This would be my “home” for at least two days. You see! Self-pity raising its ugly head already.

Another lady was brought in. She was about seventy years old, with dark eyes, full of compassion and an Eastern European complexion and very quietly spoken. Taking my hand, she asked, “Are you all right, dear?”

“I’m fine, really. Thank you.”

“Don’t worry too much,” she said. “We are all in the hands of the Lord,” and proceeded to unpack her bag. Amongst her belongings was a little golliwog, which she placed against her pillow. “Have you any family?” she asked.

“Yes, I have three children. Have you any children,” I enquired.

“No. I never married,” she replied. “This is Tobias,” she explained, stroking the little golly’s head. Don’t you think he has the happiest smile you have ever seen?”

I had to admit, what, with his sparkling eyes, his was the happiest smile you could ever wish to see.

“He’s all I have to talk to. He likes me talking to him. I know its silly but I’ve had him all my life.”

A nurse came in, observed the scene and went out again, returning with another nurse.

“Um!, Rosanna” said the second nurse, “Toys aren’t really allowed on the adult wards. Would you like to put him in your locker?”

“No. No,” came the response. “That would be awful. He’ll stay here with me.”

To save any further argument, the two were called away, soon returning with another admission; a very frail, old lady, terribly thin and too weak to sit up. Two young girls in semi-Muslim garb accompanied her. They stroked her hands and face, then went to hunt for snacks, while the nurses sorted out the bed. Soon, the two young girls returned with biscuits and sweeties, which they, kindly, began to offer around the ward.

“Who is that?” asked the younger of the two girls. “Does your dolly have a name?”

“He does,” said Rosanna. “This is Tobias.”

“May I hold him?”

“You may, indeed. He likes company.”

“Look.” (And I think she called her grandmother Bibi) “See, that is Rosanna over there and this is Tobias. See how he smiles at you.” Grandmother was almost too weak to open her eyes but a little smile played, momentarily, about her lips.

Another lady was brought in, suffering from an advanced stage of dementia. She did not know where she was and could barely remember he own name but she would not stay in bed. None the less, the staff dealt with her very efficiently. It seemed easier for them to deal with this difficult patient than with the little golly. Eventually, someone made a highly transparent plastic mackintosh, with a stapler, for him (so that he would not contract any infection) and everyone was happy.

What a carry on! Left to their own devices, people usually sort themselves out. David Cameron ought to know, we already have the Big Society. Rosanna is going to pray for me and I have promised to pray for her. Heaven help us.

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About the Author:
Everyone loves a smiling face. So have a look at my book, ” The Adventures of Robertson Golly ” by Arabella Knight.
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