“Covid is totally out of control; since our governments have retired from the fray, Omicron now has a free run, we’re stuck in our homes waiting for the next grocery delivery,” bemoans “The Gadfly” columnist ROBERT MACKLIN. 

OKAY, things are crook. Climate change is gathering pace. All this rain is producing an undergrowth that will explode into bushfires that will make 2020 seem like a gentle prologue. 

Covid is totally out of control; since our governments have retired from the fray, Omicron now has a free run, we’re stuck in our homes waiting for the next grocery delivery.

But here’s the good news. Scotty Morrison reckons he has the answer to just about everything. He truly believes he’s doing the work of his Pentecostal creator, that God Himself really wants him to stay Prime Minister to fight the good fight against religious discrimination. And they’re constantly in touch, planning the way ahead.

This is a big call. I mean, God’s got a lot on his plate. He could be excused for being a little distracted when, say, two galaxies are colliding in the Universe’s north-west quadrant; or his pet volcanoes are erupting in the Ring of Fire; or some character with a mop of orange hair won’t stop shouting, “God Bless these United States of America!” At such a time, his heavenly whispers might become a bit, um, extreme. 

Well, you got that right because yesterday we got the scoop of the century! There we were, quietly installing a new electronic doorbell for the Woolworths guy when the strangest thing happened. Somehow, we seemed to have picked up a crossed line with their latest chat. 

Not really that surprising, I guess, since we’re more or less in a direct line between The Lodge and the local Pentecostal church. The only problem was that while God came through loud and clear, we couldn’t catch Scotty’s side. Anyway, it seems he’d been pestering Him about when to call the election.

God: “Look, the pandemic’s raging through the population, so why don’t you ‘postpone’ the darned thing on grounds that it would be a ‘super-spreader.’ (pause) Of course they’ll buy it; they elected you last time, didn’t they? (pause) Yes, I know you gave me the credit (pause). 

“That’s right, it’s a national emergency, so why not turn that national cabinet into an ‘interim’ governing body while the parliament is suspended. (pause) Right, the Governor-General would have to accept the advice of his Prime Minister. And you’ve bluffed the Chief Ministers and Premiers with the Cabinet confidentiality rule, except for the heretic in WA. (pause)

“Okay, make it a more ‘representative’ body. Invite the Opposition Leader to join! The pressure on Albo would be enormous (pause).

“Mass demonstrations? That’s easy – declare Martial Law (pause). ‘Well, of course you’d say it’s only a temporary measure, just till the pandemic’s over’ (pause).

“No, I lost control over mutations long ago; that damned Darwin got the scoop on that (pause). So, what do you reckon? Give it a go? (pause). 

“S’cuse me a second, Scott. Yes, yes, yes! I do Bless your United States of America. Okay? (brief pause). Still there, Scotty? Dear, oh dear, I know he’s a friend of yours, but honestly, some people… now what were we saying?’

Alas, that’s when the new electronic doorbell started working. The delivery man will be pleased. We pressed the button, and it played the opening chords of “It’s A Small World.” 

And getting smaller all the time, I thought. 

robert@robertmacklin.com