“Snow White realised he would need to say something to the seven Daves from the CFMEU. For while they still remained the closest of bedfellows, the festering smell of the Daves was beginning to rub off on Snow White.” It’s KEEPING UP THE ACT. 

Once upon a time, in a land ever so close by, there lived an enchanted prince called Snow White. 

His real name was Andronicus Burr but he much preferred to be known within his cosy realm of Toytown as Snow White. For you see, his skin was like Teflon and his soul was as pure as a driven Tesla. Murky deeds would come, and dirty business would go, but Snow White would forever remain unblemished. 

Every morning, Snow White would turn to his magical newspaper and ask, “tabloid, tabloid, please recall, who’s the fairest of them all?” 

“You are,” The Canberra Times would reply. 

This made Snow White very happy indeed. 

For some years now, Snow White had enjoyed a close relationship with the seven Daves from the CFMEU. 

“Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho, it’s off to rort we go,” the Daves would merrily sing as they set out each morning to mine taxpayer gold. And each night they would return to Snow White’s house with generous donations. 

The Daves loved Snow White and he loved them. It was a marriage made by heavies. 

Then one dark winter day, Snow White turned to his magical newspaper.

“Tabloid, tabloid, please recall, who’s the fairest of them all?”

“Umm…,” said The Canberra Times, uneasily. “It is Albo, to give him his due, he is more fair dinkum than you, in cleaning up the CFMEU.”

Snow White became enraged and threw his “I AM THE CHIEF!” mug at a nearby flunky. “How dare they hold me accountable for my actions,” the prince fumed. “Do my empty words and distractions mean nothing to them?!”

But as the days passed, Snow White realised that he would need to say something to the seven Daves from the CFMEU. For while they still remained the closest of bedfellows, the festering smell of the Daves was beginning to rub off on Snow White. 

“Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho, it’s off to rort we go,” sang the Daves as they climbed into their EBA-mandated Ford Rangers. 

“Yeah, um, about that,” said Snow White, nervously. “Look if you guys were to R-O-R-T… and I’m not saying that you do… Can you just do it more quietly, like the other unions do? And maybe leave the bikies out of it, too. I know we’ve created a safe haven for them here… but, you know… people are beginning to talk.”

Well, you wouldn’t believe the effing and jeffing that followed. One of the Daves, Dazzo, suggested Snow White would do well to sit on one of his blunter tools, and twist. Hard. 

“All I’m asking,” panted Snow White, “is to back off until after October, when I have my four-yearly beauty contest. I can’t win the contest if I smell!” 

“Boys, boys,” said Big D, the union rep who commanded the most respect amongst the Daves, through his reputation of having never worked a day in his life. 

“We need to let ol’ Snowy here win his beauty contest and then things can go back to normal. Besides, we’ve still got the Secure Local Jobs rort going for us. That’s going nowhere, right Snow?”

Snow White blushed. “Of course not. The Secure Local Jobs Code smells like roses. Everyone in the realm has got used to its whiff and no one has complained.” 

“What about that tenderer who said it stinks to high heaven?” asked the Davemeister, the most junior of the Daves. Big D gave a knowing leer. “Don’t worry about him, kid. He’s chilling with the carp.” 

Snow White didn’t want to hear any more. “La-la-la-la,” the prince chanted as he blocked his ears. Big D shrugged and the boys resumed getting into their utes. “Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho, it’s off to Secure Local Jobs Code we go!” they sang in unison.

October came around and Snow White went on to win his fifth beauty contest. The Daves cheered and the citizens of Toytown lived crappily ever after. 

And the moral of the story? Puh! Morals are for other jurisdictions.