The Larrikin (David M. Russell) presents part two of Stirring the Possum.
Oh, but it is! The patterns of speech used by our political leaders offer some intriguing insights into their personality make-up.
Am I alone in thinking that Julia Gillard’s whole speech pattern has changed since she assumed the moniker of Top Sheila? Her articulation would damn near best any newsreader on the prime time twaddle that passes for television. Does she ever stumble? Does she ever have a slip of the tongue? Is it now a very passable Aussie twang (with hints of eastern suburbs’ refinement)? And, most importantly, was it always so?
Frankly, I don’t think so. I can recall many an article deriding the Top Sheila for her peculiar accent and elocution. Many were the snide asides about how she sounded just a tad too much like a Welsh interloper. We Australians do like to welcome new settlers, don’t we, but just make sure you assimilate real quick otherwise we might just stump up ten quid to send you back wherever it was you came from.
Funny, also, how some of us Aussies like to deride people whose accent does not mimic our own? Those who have stuck it to the Top Sheila ignore the reality that most of us think we are the only nation on earth that does not speak with an accent. Strine? Yeah, sure, but that’s not an accent, eh?
Funny, also (or not funny at all, really) that whenever Julia speaks to us now, we can understand every syllable and it all sounds right and we like every word she utters. So how come that? There’s a conclusion that is almost impossible to ignore: the Dear Leader of this glorious nation is telling us what we want to hear. Not just on occasion like a mere mortal would (or, say, Our Kevvie) but all the bloody time. So “on song” is she that Julia cannot be for real. That is: she’s stretching the truth. In telling us ONLY what we want to hear, how should we judge her sincerity? Is somebody who only tells us what we want to hear, an ideal person to actually lead the nation?
We gave up on Our Kevvie because he didn’t deliver. How can Julia Gillard meet our expectations if she is to pursue the tactical ploy of never telling us anything we don’t like? We can be pretty sure she is not Santa Claus so how come everything she touches thus far turns to gold? Yes, it’s only her words but a lot of people seem to be buying them at face value. Perhaps we would benefit from a cooler appraisal than is currently being delivered.
Then there’s Tony Abbott, the Monsignor. When he’s not flashing red budgies at us, he’s telling it true. Or is he? By his very own admission, he’s not beyond being liberal with the truth. That couldn’t be how his party got its name, could it? Nah, never!
Tony talks like a dinky-di Aussie, no question about that. But opinion polls say loudly that the words that often come out his mouth should not be taken for gospel. There’s not many of us who would take that as a compliment. Wonder how he sleeps at night? We force our leaders to develop thick hides but ya gotta wonder how they withstand all our slings and arrows. We can be a trying lot. Anyway, you’d have to say that Tony must wear the perception that he can lie like Satan’s handmaiden as a millstone around his neck. But he still sounds kosher, in an Aussie sort of way, ya know? You sound all right, Tony, but the jury’s definitely out on your sincerity, mate.
And how could we forget Our Kevvie? Kevvie’s wandered off to the land of the Great Satan, the good ole USA. Funnily enough, he’s mixing with that lovely bloke he knifed in the back to become Prime Minister, poor old Kim Beazley. Who’da guessed? Wonder what they swapped for idle chit-chat? “So, how’s it feel you back-stabbing little prick?” “Oh, shut up, Kneesie. How pathetic do you think you are when you could be knocked-off even by me? Bloody loser!” Oh, one could spend hours imagining how their robust ribaldry rolled off their tongues.
As a nation we all got te’ed-off together at Kevvie’s inability to speak our own language. You can forgive a bloke a lot but when you’re King Billy you’ve got to at least talk to us in a language we can actually understand. Whenever we did get what Kevvie was saying, it was when he was promising something. He’d wax lyrical and shoot off his mouth to such an extent that it kept coming back to bite him. But he couldn’t break the habit so we broke him through the opinion polls. No, we didn’t execute him but we sure gave the thumbs down, didn’t we?
We should also spare a thought for old Lend Us A Tenner, Lindsay Tanner and Square Eyes, Robert Faulkner. These two hardy lads will be a loss to the steel cage of gladiator combat that many of us know otherwise as the national parliament. They are both getting out of the Gillard Cabinet as fast as any poor sod who’s accidentally been trapped in a cupboard under the stairs and then finds the door ajar.
This stalwart duo say they just want to enjoy a better life (well an approximation of this sentiment anyway) and that there’s nothing in their early and well-publicised impending resignations that could possibly be construed as in any way any possible kind of negative commentary on the delightful Top Sheila herself. Nah, there wouldn’t be would there? Except that when you’re really happy, you tend not to give up what it is you enjoy, eh? Very few of us have the kind of ascetic self-abnegation that makes a pleasure out of not letting yourself do what you enjoy. And, by any measure, both Tanner and Faulkner have enjoyed their political careers over many years. But it’s no reflection on our Dear Leader? Nah, don’t buy that. Reckon they want out coz they don’t like it. And that speaks volumes, doesn’t it. Just think about it for a moment.
Funny, also, how some of us Aussies like to deride people whose accent does not mimic our own? Those who have stuck it to the Top Sheila ignore the reality that most of us think we are the only nation on earth that does not speak with an accent. Strine? Yeah, sure, but that’s not an accent, eh?
Funny, also (or not funny at all, really) that whenever Julia speaks to us now, we can understand every syllable and it all sounds right and we like every word she utters. So how come that? There’s a conclusion that is almost impossible to ignore: the Dear Leader of this glorious nation is telling us what we want to hear. Not just on occasion like a mere mortal would (or, say, Our Kevvie) but all the bloody time. So “on song” is she that Julia cannot be for real. That is: she’s stretching the truth. In telling us ONLY what we want to hear, how should we judge her sincerity? Is somebody who only tells us what we want to hear, an ideal person to actually lead the nation?
We gave up on Our Kevvie because he didn’t deliver. How can Julia Gillard meet our expectations if she is to pursue the tactical ploy of never telling us anything we don’t like? We can be pretty sure she is not Santa Claus so how come everything she touches thus far turns to gold? Yes, it’s only her words but a lot of people seem to be buying them at face value. Perhaps we would benefit from a cooler appraisal than is currently being delivered.
Then there’s Tony Abbott, the Monsignor. When he’s not flashing red budgies at us, he’s telling it true. Or is he? By his very own admission, he’s not beyond being liberal with the truth. That couldn’t be how his party got its name, could it? Nah, never!
Tony talks like a dinky-di Aussie, no question about that. But opinion polls say loudly that the words that often come out his mouth should not be taken for gospel. There’s not many of us who would take that as a compliment. Wonder how he sleeps at night? We force our leaders to develop thick hides but ya gotta wonder how they withstand all our slings and arrows. We can be a trying lot. Anyway, you’d have to say that Tony must wear the perception that he can lie like Satan’s handmaiden as a millstone around his neck. But he still sounds kosher, in an Aussie sort of way, ya know? You sound all right, Tony, but the jury’s definitely out on your sincerity, mate.
And how could we forget Our Kevvie? Kevvie’s wandered off to the land of the Great Satan, the good ole USA. Funnily enough, he’s mixing with that lovely bloke he knifed in the back to become Prime Minister, poor old Kim Beazley. Who’da guessed? Wonder what they swapped for idle chit-chat? “So, how’s it feel you back-stabbing little prick?” “Oh, shut up, Kneesie. How pathetic do you think you are when you could be knocked-off even by me? Bloody loser!” Oh, one could spend hours imagining how their robust ribaldry rolled off their tongues.
As a nation we all got te’ed-off together at Kevvie’s inability to speak our own language. You can forgive a bloke a lot but when you’re King Billy you’ve got to at least talk to us in a language we can actually understand. Whenever we did get what Kevvie was saying, it was when he was promising something. He’d wax lyrical and shoot off his mouth to such an extent that it kept coming back to bite him. But he couldn’t break the habit so we broke him through the opinion polls. No, we didn’t execute him but we sure gave the thumbs down, didn’t we?
We should also spare a thought for old Lend Us A Tenner, Lindsay Tanner and Square Eyes, Robert Faulkner. These two hardy lads will be a loss to the steel cage of gladiator combat that many of us know otherwise as the national parliament. They are both getting out of the Gillard Cabinet as fast as any poor sod who’s accidentally been trapped in a cupboard under the stairs and then finds the door ajar.
This stalwart duo say they just want to enjoy a better life (well an approximation of this sentiment anyway) and that there’s nothing in their early and well-publicised impending resignations that could possibly be construed as in any way any possible kind of negative commentary on the delightful Top Sheila herself. Nah, there wouldn’t be would there? Except that when you’re really happy, you tend not to give up what it is you enjoy, eh? Very few of us have the kind of ascetic self-abnegation that makes a pleasure out of not letting yourself do what you enjoy. And, by any measure, both Tanner and Faulkner have enjoyed their political careers over many years. But it’s no reflection on our Dear Leader? Nah, don’t buy that. Reckon they want out coz they don’t like it. And that speaks volumes, doesn’t it. Just think about it for a moment.
I’ve never had a problem with her soothing tones or even her red hair (believe it or not). But her bag of clichés make me want to reach for my paper bag.
Posted by: Ben | July 18, 2010 at 10:27 AM
Now I wonder what is a real Aussie note - is it the hectoring, lecturing, disappear up your nose drone of KRudd - hopefully seldom to be heard again?
Is it the faux two syllable drone of the once buzz saw sounding Gillard, guaranteed to send most sane people bonkers?
Or is it the manly ums and ahs of the verbally challenged Tony Abbott which are guaranteed to keep you awake and listening in order just to count the ums and ahs.
Personally, I prefer the mons and his ums and ahs over KRudd's hectoring and Gillard's mind numbing fake Aussie.
So far, this would seem to be the extent of interest in this election.
Posted by: Elizabeth | July 21, 2010 at 08:48 PM