RELIABLE AND COMPETENT (Spectator leader April 13)

“Relaxed and comfortable” was the mantra of John Howard’s government, but looking back at what was clearly Australia’s golden decade, “reliable and competent” might be a more accurate moniker.

By and large, the previous Coalition government could be relied upon to deliver its election commitments in a competent fashion, to the benefit of the economy and the community. Of itself, this sounds a rather mundane and unimpressive boast. Isn’t that what all governments are supposed to do? But as we get well into the fifth year of Labor’s tumultuous and destructive period in office, “reliable and competent” appear goals as distant and unattainable for this government to achieve as Thorpie’s recent quest for another Olympic gong.

“Politically unreliable” and “managerially incompetent” would be a more accurate description of almost every federal initiative undertaken. The Rudd era fiascos of pinks batts, the ETS, and Grocerywatch seem like quaint slip-ups when compared to the latest multi-million dollar mishaps of Gillard, Swan, Conroy et al.

Whether it be the disgraceful duplicity of the Australia Network tendering process, the ongoing pork-barreling of the NBN with its whiteboard-style choice of which lucky Labor electorate gets what and when, the teeth-grinding behavior of Fair Work Australia, the inexcusable refusal of the government to front up to the Craig Thomson allegations, the Machiavellian maneuverings over who gets what out of the mining tax, or the vast sums being squandered before the carbon tax has even been introduced to keep the energy companies onside, what typifies Labor’s actions is a sly disdain for the truth combined with breathtaking ineptitude and financial recklessness.

The list goes on. Unions running amok. Business disquiet over the mooted diesel rebate removal. The abandonment of genuine, much-needed tax reform. The stuff-ups over asylum seekers, cattle exports, and gaffes such as threatening PNG sanctions. At every turn, in stark contrast to its predecessor, this government manages to be either unreliable in its commitments or incompetent in their implementation.

It requires no effort of imagination to predict that the big ticket items, the MRRT, the carbon tax and the NBN, will be as clumsily implemented as all Labor’s other ill-prepared and rushed-through schemes. Lack of consultation, a failure to anticipate problems and a fingers-crossed-behind-the-back management style will continue to be their hallmark, with inevitable consequences.

A billion lost here, a couple of hundred million gone there. Taxpayers’ hard-earned wealth is being frittered away through errors of judgment at an alarming rate. Meanwhile, business groups warn that our overseas competitors are eagerly poised to take full advantage of our self-inflicted imposts, whilst inevitably, investment in exploration for new mines is heading to cheaper fields abroad.

The tragedy for Australian prosperity is that there is one area where the Gillard team will always remain reliable and competent; clinging onto power through whatever means it takes. Miraculously, the carbon tax “compensation” payouts will competently deliver a bucktload of cash at precisely the right time for the next election. You can rely on it.

INSIDE THE ABATTOIR (Fin Review March 2)

Shocking images smuggled out of Australia of sadistic, cruel and inhumane practices have yet again sparked a furore in neighbouring Indonesia. Filmed in secret by undercover journalists from the Empat Pojok current affairs program, the grainy footage re-affirms that in Australia human beings are being humiliated, tortured and verbally abused before being savagely put down.

“We’d heard rumours of such barbarity, but we couldn’t believe that this is how they treat their politicians in Australia,” said the program’s producer.

Airing tonight, the documentary features never-before seen images taken on a mobile phone smuggled out of the notorious Labor Party boardroom known as “the Slaughterhouse.”

“It was sickening,” said the reporter, wiping away tears. “They dragged the poor beast in – I think his name was Kevin but I couldn’t be sure, there was so much squealing and yelling going on.”

Visibly shaken by her ordeal, the reporter looks horrified recalling the grisly scenes. “The creature was clearly on his last legs – limping, and bleeding, with big dark rings under his eyes. He looked like he’d just got off the red eye from Washington. Apparently he’d been on his feet for hours, even days, staggering aimlessly through shopping malls and TV studios pathetically looking for some kind of support. It was heart-breaking.”

Struggling to maintain her composure, the reporter goes on to describe the final, brutal moments before the kill. “He got up to make a speech, pleading for mercy, and reminding the baying mob – there were about a hundred of them - that he was the only one who could beat Abbott. But they were in a frenzy. One woman was screeching “let’s move forward,” and then out came the knives and they all just started attacking him with these dreadful barbed comments.”

Clips from the documentary leaked onto youtube clearly show the Australian Treasurer, Wayne Swan, engaged in a vicious assault on his former school chum, in scenes of gratuitous violence that have horrified the Indonesian public. “To put the boot in like that, over and over again; in most civilized countries they use a policy issue to humanely bring down a leader, but these savages go straight for the jugular.”

“It was medieval,” said another viewer, dry retching in disgust. “The whole gang laid into him. Not content with merely wounding him, they broke his spirit, too, calling him all sorts of degrading names like ‘psychopath’ and ‘prima donna’.”

“What distressed me the most was seeing that sweet, innocent Kate Ellis suddenly turn nasty, even after it was all over. She just got stuck right into his warm corpse on the 7.30 report. So what if Kevin went to some pub and called Gillard an atheist, childless, ex-Marxist? It’s not as if Australians live in some whacky, sharia-obsessed theocracy,” said Indonesian animal-activist (and animal) Abu Bakar Bashir as he was whisked back to prison.

The video claims such practices are common throughout the Canberra Meat Belt. “First they stunned him back in 2010, without any warning. Then they just left him battered and bruised. The mistake was that nobody bothered to check whether he was really dead. I should have just slit his throat on the spot,“ says one of the faceless butchers, known only as “Bill.”

With tears streaming down his cheeks, another participant in the savagery attempts to justify his actions. “I just want to kill Tories,” said Albo Al-Banese. “But they keep saying “No”, so I have to slaughter my own people instead.”

Shortly after the killing, one of the perpetrators , Ar-Bh'ib, can be seen being persuaded to fall on his own machete. Visiting the abattoir yesterday, journalists were sickened to see the practices continuing unabated. “There was a fresh Bob Carcass lying on the Senate floor, groaning and thoroughly humiliated. He never stood a chance.”

Cancelling his recently purchased ten thousand dollar boat ride from Indonesia (cabin, life jacket, food, water and document shredder included) Iraqi professional refugee Mustafa iPod was quick to express his disgust. “I thought I was going to a civilised country that respects your basic human rights and offers you liberty, dignity and a free Bravia. But the way they destroy these poor creatures sickens me. At least in Abu Graib they just treat you like a dog, they don’t put you down like one.”

Meanwhile, in unrelated news, an asylum seeker who arrived on Christmas Island by private jet has lashed out at Australian border police. “I am fleeing persecution in my own country – if I go back they will almost certainly string me up from the nearest lamppost simply because I went and butchered half my population,” said Mr. Al Assad, speaking on condition of anonymity.

SPARE A THOUGHT FOR THE LOSERS (Spectator leader March 3)

  

While the victors prance from one after-party shindig to the next, reveling in the seductive glow of their glittering success and affirmation of their new-found popularity, spare a thought for the losers. For those for whom there is no limo ride home, no cheering throngs to greet them at the door, no newspapers hanging on their every word.

We refer of course to the dejected, disappointed, demoralized runners-up in the greatest drama yet to grace our TV screens, last Monday’s long awaited, highly anticipated and ultimately anticlimactic star-studded ego-fest known as “The Great Labor Party Train Wreck”, or more simply, “Kevin, the Downfall.”

It was a spectacle to remember for many years to come, as they all turned up, in their most fetching finery, strutting the red carpet to flashing cameras and breathless reportage.

There was Antony Albanese, blabbing his way to the podium, only to find out he'd licked the wrong envelope. Who can forget his hectoring performance only six months ago in front of his own constituents, as he berated little old ladies and bullied those who had dared speak out against a carbon tax? How the mighty have fallen, as he broke down in front of the cameras, wrestling with his inner demons and his addiction to backing the wrong horse. Only a few weeks ago, he drew guffaws for his pathetic rendition of a serious politician, a performance movie buffs were quick to spot was a blatant plagiarism of Michael Douglas. Clearly, this is one star whose best days are behind him, with his latest vanity project –the battle flick Tory! Tory! Tory! – struggling to find any backers.

And what to make of the tragic, haunted figure of Chris Bowen? Forced to play so many different roles with equal sincerity over the past twelve months, hopping from one ludicrous “solution” to another, his credibility and integrity have now collapsed to the point where audiences can no longer suspend their disbelief.

The comic interlude was left to veteran funny man Rob Oakeshott, for whom, alas, the laughs now seem to have dried up. Attempting to reinvigorate the crowd, and unsuccessfully reprising his famous “Kingmaker” role, Rob’s gag about Malcolm Turnbull taking over the leadership of the Liberal party fell completely flat, leaving him standing in the spotlight to an awkward, embarrassed silence. Rob – whose rambling and incoherent 2010 acceptance speech for the tedious docudrama “Ugly in its Beauty” clocked in at an extraordinarily dull twenty seven minutes - is not expected to return next year, or to be heard of ever again after the next election.

Hogging the red carpet in the run up to the big night, the two veteran entertainment writers Peter Hatchet-Job and Professor Van Nonselence, both of whom had confidently predicted that Rudd would sweep the awards, were nowhere to be seen in the aftermath, clearly not invited to any of the dazzling celebrations. “Kevin Rudd will become the leader, not because he's made a compelling case but because Julia Gillard cannot hold the confidence of her caucus,” wrote Hatchet only ten days ago, in what has now become a collector’s piece, along with Van Nonselence’s: “A move to Rudd by Albanese… would give Rudd the momentum he needs to create an inevitability about changing leaders.”

The bravest loser, who walked home empty handed after being expected to grab the Peoples’ Award for his brutal portrayal of a ruthless backstabber in the epic “Ides of March” flick, the popular heart-throb Kevin Clooney, tried to put on a humble face, but the punters weren’t fooled. “'I dedicate myself to working fully for (Ms Gillard's) re-election as the prime minister of Australia. I don’t hold grudges,” he said, in one of the few moments of genuine comedy during the entire show.

Scurrying away from centre-stage before he was booed off, hapless Senator “Marky Mark” Arbib –producer and director of such box office disasters as “2010: An Early Election” and “Kristina the Blonde” - suddenly remembered he had a family to go home to and left the scene early. No more late night backroom deals for him, apparently.

Champagne corks were popping, meanwhile, at the lakeside home of the Queen of High Drama, Julia Gillard herself, who – with her personal stylist and hairdresser boyfriend on her arm – was being lauded for her brilliant portrayal of Australia’s first ever female Prime Minister. “It was uncanny,” said one insider, flushed with excitement. “For a full ninety minutes, you could almost believe she was the real thing.”

Sullen and depressed, forgotten by the rich and famous, ignored by the powerful and the profligate, unlamented by the media and the spin doctors, the night’s biggest loser was nowhere to be seen backstage. We refer, of course, to Joe Blow, the average Australian punter, for whom the desire to vote for their own Prime Minister has now ended in tears.

KEVIN'S RESIGNATION SPEECH (Fin Review Feb 24)

A leaked video of Kevin Rudd’s resignation speech has found its way onto the internet, believed to have been posted by none other than the former Foreign Minister himself.

Kevin Rudd: “Ah mate, this is just impossible. (Winces.) I get to the very end of dinner and I’m explaining to Ban Ki Moon that he has my absolute full and total support and that I in no way intend to challenge him for his job as Secretary General of the United Nations, which he is getting on with while I am getting on with mine because honestly I’m perfectly content being both Prime Minister-in- Waiting and Foreign Minister of Australia and then, strike me dead, I’ve got to zip over to the f--king Willard hotel in the middle of the night and… (lifts hands in exasperation)… make a resignation speech before they go and sack me! (Shakes head and looks away from camera, then takes a deep breath.) All because of these f--king hopeless time zone differences! I mean what f--kwit ever dreamt that one up? How f--king inconsiderate! (Takes a long slow sip of water, then mutters off camera.) Mate, can you tell these dickheads in the embassy to just give me a simple backdrop, something plain and unobtrusive, not this gold flock wallpaper, I’ve said this before, tell that bloody seppo that… Aarrrgghh this f--king language! You ask for a plain, simple, unobtrusive backdrop with a nice Aussie flag so I look like a normal, happy little vegemite coz you know something that’s exactly what I am and… and… those faceless men on Reception go and stick me in the bloody George Washington Honeymoon Suite with all these fancy gold patterns and swirls and floral motifs and it just complicates it SO MUCH, you know, how can anyone do this to me? I’m human like anyone else, aren’t I? (Winces again, as if fighting back the tears.) All the other rooms are shut up for the night and I can’t even get into my own room coz I can’t work that STUPID electronic swipe key! It might be easy for you to sit there and say it’s easy to do but let me tell you mate it isn’t!! (Shakes his head from side to side, moaning, as if suffering from hemorrhoids.) Nnnggghhh! (Sits up straight and stares at the camera for several seconds, not blinking.) Honestly? It’s time for some plain speaking here; the simple truth is I cannot be expected to carry out my stealth campaign against the Prime Minister if she’s going to sack me. I just think it’s pretty sad for everybody when a soon-to-be-former leader of our party behaves in this way. I sat up for three days and three nights with twenty PR advisers from around the world to work out how to persuade those ratf—kers in the Labor Party who fancy keeping their f—king jobs to just hurry up and draft me back and… It’s just you know, this is becoming hopeless! (Whacks table.) Because I am absolutely passionate about… I’ve been frustrated domestically, I’ve been frustrated politically by the lack of progress in my triumphant return to the Lodge but I will not be deterred and I will progress this matter and I will achieve the best possible means of bringing down this government. (Sighs and picks up a glass of water, then mutters off camera again.) Tell them to cancel my 6 o’clock brekky with Barrack Obama you know I just don’t have the f--king patience to do that – is this a f--king Chinese interior decorator here or what? (Stares at wallpaper.) Just f--king hopeless… (Grimaces.) And the bottom line is this… the bottom line is this… let me tell you this mate… there is no way I can be expected to stare in the mirror in the future and say ‘K-Rudd you passed up the core opportunity to get your old job back as the President… ‘ (Slams fist down on the desk, sending glass of water flying.) Aarggh! I f--ked up the last word…"

Meanwhile, Julia Gillard has denied that members of her staff have been working for at least the last two weeks on a secret acceptance speech. “I am not surprised that whether its people in my office or people more broadly in the Labor Party who are casting in their mind where circumstances might get to, but does that mean I know about it? Of course not,” said the Prime Minister.

In the speech she accepts that she has lost her job and accepts that Stephen Smith has taken over.

SPEAKING A FOREIGN LANGUAGE (Spectator leader Feb 25)

Hang on. There’s something fishy in the won ton soup. We’d always been led to believe that one of Kevin Rudd’s great skills was his talent for Mandarin, supposedly honed with First Class Honours at the ANU and finessed during his stint as a diplomat in Beijing. Yet it now turns out – if youtube is anything to go by – that our once and (potentially) future PM can barely string two words together in the language of the Middle Kingdom without exploding into a hissy fit of curses and f-bombs.

“Mate this is just impossible,” he snarled at his cameraman, as he struggled to get his tongue around a greeting video. But how hard can it be? The words were displayed on an auto-cue for him to read in the privacy of his own studio. The editor was standing by to cut the good bits together and leave out the mistakes. The message was presumably along the lines of “Sorry I couldn’t be there with you tonight, but I hope you all have a great time.” Hardly an orthoepic dissertation on aspiratory consonants in the Pinghua dialect.

Yet somehow the whiz-kid from Eumundi ended up all over the place, like a plate of left over dim sums at Sunday yum cha. “Just give me simple sentences! This f***ing language! How can anyone do this?” he dummy-spat, fretting like a Gonksi-ite schoolkid who’s just found out he’s come bottom of the class.

Was it all just a myth? Is Kevin’s lauded mastery of Mandarin no better than his mastery of economics (“save capitalism from itself”), diplomacy ("those Chinese f***ers are trying to rat-f*** us”), science (“the greatest moral challenge of our time”) or team management (“a psychopath with a giant ego”)?

Surely he hasn’t been hoodwinking us all along?

A BLOODBATH (Spectator leader Feb 25)

It’s an intricate two-step, but one false move now spells death. As Rudd surprises everyone including his own supporters with his adroit resignation, seeking the ideal strategic moment to knife his nemesis, the PM ducks and weaves hoping she won’t shoot herself in the foot again. Behind the scenes, however, it’s Tony Abbott who must take the credit for bringing about this deadly dance.

“The simple truth is that I cannot continue to serve as Foreign Minister if I do not have the Prime Minister’s support,” said Kevin Rudd, hilariously eschewing a “stealth attack on a sitting Prime Minister” and twisting events to appear decisive and “honest” whilst fraudulently painting himself as the aggrieved and innocent party (“the Australian people want an end to this soap opera.”) Jumping before he was pushed, he has cannily thrown the spotlight onto Gillard’s presumed inability to beat Abbott at the next election.

Normally, when a political party tears itself apart in such a spectacular and vitriolic fashion, there is a key policy issue at stake; Turnbull vs Abbott over climate change being an obvious example. But as with his original “faceless men” dethroning, Rudd’s latest move comes with no philosophical baggage. It’s simply a question of perceived popularity, mind games and who is the wiliest fighter.

In the absence of any clashes of conviction, another battleground had to be found for Rudd to attack on, and this was eagerly provided by the Press Gallery over the past few weeks, keen to notch up a hit after being wrong-footed by political events more than once over recent years.

A strong, confident leader would have been impervious to the hysterical but essentially empty provocations of Four Corners, 7.30, the Daily Telegraph and others. Gillard wasn’t. Above all, it is Tony Abbott’s success in fatally weakening the Prime Minister that is at the heart of her current predicament. Constantly carping on about his “negativity” and the “No-alition” has proven to be Gillard’s biggest mistake. At every turn, and on every policy issue, she has empowered Abbott in the eyes of the electorate (and, crucially, wavering members of caucus), whilst feeding the impression that she doesn’t know how to defeat him. Much like the picadors who soften up the animal for the kill, Abbott has relentlessly driven his spear into the spine of Gillard, making it that much more tempting for Rudd-the-matador to convince himself (and his supporters) that he can finish her off.

Bleeding, clearly rattled, and unable to shake off the “untrustworthy” tag, it is immaterial whether Gillard survives the imminent showdown. Her confidence and authority are shattered, and her Prime Ministership is doomed. Rudd’s tactics have so far outwitted her at every stage. He hasn’t missed a step, and it is unlikely he will stumble now, although there is always the possibility of a third contender popping up.

Whoever is left standing, the Labor Party has been battered to within an inch of its life. The internal bruising will take many years to fade.

THREE PRIME MINISTERS (Fin Review Feb 11)

Australia now effectively has three Prime Ministers; the populist, the pragmatist and the politician. All three were hard at work last week, beavering away in front of the TV cameras as they sought to lead the nation in their three unique ways. One wants to be loved, one wants to be listened to, and one craves respect and legitimacy.

In some ways, we should be grateful. Who says you only need one leader? Plenty of European countries have run on troikas, including the USSR briefly after Stalin croaked and it didn’t do the Russians any harm (comparatively), so why should it bother us?

Our populist leader – the one recognized as Australia’s PM by everyone overseas - returned to his favorite haunt this week, a schoolyard on the Gold Coast hinterland where, surrounded by adoring Aryan-looking sun-bleached Aussie school kids in peaked hats and bright tee shirts, he was able to show off his brilliant PR and diplomatic skills. Sounding nicer and more reasonable than any human being should ever have to, Kevin slid the knife ever so gently out of his own back, and with the greatest of aplomb, popped it squarely back where it belongs - between the shoulder blades of Simon Crean. "Can I just say this..?" began Mr Ever-so-humble-and-exceedingly-reasonable, and we knew we were in for a doozy. He didn't disappoint. As the kiddies gazed up at him, with expressions normally reserved for a Bono, a Federer or a Justin Bieber, Kevin neatly countered Crean’s ambush attack and turned his graceless criticism that he was "a prima donna" and "not a team player" abruptly on it's head: "I am proud to be a member of this ministerial team, which is very strong, very dedicated, very hard-working and in which Simon himself plays a very positive role,'' said the foreign minister; humility, sincerity and Prime Ministerial magnanimity oozing out of every pore. The kiddies, the journalists and the Queensland hinterland swooned as one.

Meanwhile, in the nation's capitol, suitably attired in a smart suit and the same tie he wore to the Lobby punch up on Australia Day, our pragmatic leader – the one who has dictated the government’s agenda this year and says what most people outside the beltway think - set out to prove to a sceptical audience of hardened journos that he’s more than just a fluro vest and a pair of tight fitting togs. Having spent most of the year telling the government what not to do and how not to do it, it was time for a bit of overdue 'positivity.' Telling it like it is came easy to Abbott, but utterly confounded the press gallery, so conditioned as they are to a daily diet of deception and spin. Pragmatically - and honestly - Abbott pointed out that there wasn't a great deal any Prime Minister can readily commit to until the budget is back in strong surplus. In other words, in a world that is being brought to it's knees by mountains of government-generated debt, wouldn't it be a smart idea to sit tight and hold off on the overblown spending commitments, grandiose projects and novelty taxes that risk tipping our own perilously-poised economy over the edge? Explaining his aspirations, principles and priorities - practical measures he intends to see achieved on dental health, aboriginal welfare, disability care and so on - clearly left the nation's top journalists confounded and more than a little frustrated. They'd far rather have a 'core promise' to jot down in the cynical hope that they can string him up with it further down the track.

And finally, way down south, our nuts and bolts political leader – the one who gets to have all the fun doing backroom deals and backflips - went to work, mouthing carefully scripted words to sell us something nobody asked for and almost certainly nobody will ever see: her new economy. Taken straight out of the mouths of focus group groupies, the "new economy" is a soundbite phrase carefully selected by the same mob who gave us "we are us" and "moving forward." it sounds thrilling and enticing but on closer inspection is devoid of meaning. Attempting to steal credit from Howard and Costello for the rivers of gold that Labor found sloshing around in the vaults under Parliament house and promptly spent, at best the "new economy" is jargon for a robust mining boom being pilfered by a punitive couple of wealth redistribution measures; one a straight out envy tax, the other disingenuously presented as "saving the planet."

All three speeches received the appropriate media coverage and varying degrees of acclaim. We are blessed to have three such gifted Prime Ministers. At some point, however, we might actually have to choose between them.        

BLACKBOARD JUNGLE; JULIA BROWN'S SCHOOLDAYS (Fin Review Feb 17)

The freckle-faced little girl with red hair and ponytails fidgeted nervously, squirming in the hard wooden chair. One sock lower than the other, a grazed knee and a telltale smudge of chocolate on the side of her mouth.

"I’m very disappointed in you,” the headmistress said, sternly. “You seem to be getting into lots of strife recently.’" The little girl stared defiantly back, a steely glint in her pale green eyes. "It wasn't my fault, Miss."

The headmistress glanced down at her notes. What was it about girls these days? So cocky and self-assured. Not like in her day. "Well, Julia, Kevin says you stole his chocolate crackles."

Under the chair, Julia clenched her fists tightly. So that's what this was all about. Yet again! Mr Smarty Pants himself! Kevin-bloody-goody-two-shoes. Just wait till she ambushed him on the way home. She’d punch him so hard he’d blub all the way back to his stupid cane farm.

Julia swallowed. She could still taste the yummy, chocolaty, crackly taste in her mouth. She forced herself not to smile. She’d trained herself to never show emotion, no matter how much trouble she got into. “I don’t even know what chocolate crackles are, Miss. I’ve never even heard of them.”

The headmistress shook her head wearily. “Well, Kevin’s not a very happy little vegemite today. Did you know he brought them in specially for the whole class?"

“That’s coz he’s a crawler, Miss.”

“Just answer the question, Julia.”

“Miss, I've just given the best answer I can to your question.” The headmistress sighed. “My question was simply whether or not you knew…”

“I heard your question and I've answered it,” said the young girl, folding her arms defiantly across her chest. “You have not answered the question,” snapped the headmistress. “Don’t make me go and fetch Mr. Slipper!”

“Well, I've given you the answer I'm going to give you.”

The headmistress muttered under her breath. Kids! She glanced back down at her notes. “And what about that dust up on Australia Day outside the tuckshop? Kim says you made her go and tell the indigenous kids that Tony said they should all get lost, which wasn't true. And then you told Kim to tell them where Tony was sitting during lunch break so they’d go and bash him up.”

Julia glowered, her thin lips sealed tightly together. If there was one thing she’d learned in this place it was to never own up to anything. "Kim’s a dobber. And I’ve never met her anyway."

"I'm sure I've seen you two together in the playground," replied the headmistress tentatively. “Often.”

"Lots of girls hang around me all the time, Miss. Doesn't mean I know who they are, does it?" the seven-year old said, triumphantly.  She prided herself on her ability to think on her feet. That's how she’d stayed top girl in the playground for so long. “And what about your science project?" sighed the headmistress. "Before the holidays you promised everybody you wouldn't do a carbon tax this term but then on the first day back that’s exactly what you did!” Julia felt a tingle of perspiration on her top lip. She quickly licked it away with a flick of her tongue. As she did so, she again tasted the tantalizing chocolate taste still lingering all down the side of her mouth. She quickly rubbed it away with her fist, hoping the headmistress hadn’t noticed. "I've dealt with that question on numerous times before, Miss. I had to save the planet."

“I see. But there does seem to be a bit of a pattern here. Bobby Brown says you promised you'd look after the trees in his backyard but then you went and chopped them down. That nice Wilkie boy says you broke your promise to him that you’d help him stop the other kids playing marbles so often. On top of that, Nurse said you promised the private school kiddies they could keep their pocket money rebates but now you’ve said they have to give it all to you.” The headmistress stared at her sullen pupil, hoping to see some signs of contrition.

“Yes but I’ve already told you! Everything is Tony’s fault. He keeps picking on me!” The headmistress took a deep breath, wondering what on earth would become of this young thing. It was time to try another tack. “Well, let’s just see if we can do better from now on, shall we? Think you can be a good girl and always tell the truth from now on?”

The young girl smiled sweetly. “Of course I will, Miss.”

“Promise?” said the headmistress.

“Promise.”