Australians, you can breathe a collective sigh of relief. I have done it. It wasn’t easy and it wasn’t enjoyable, but it needed it be done. We all knew that but no one wanted to be the one to get their hands (and genitals) dirty.
So in the spirit of mateship, I took one for the team. I fucked every surviving former Australian Prime Minister so that you don’t have to. The details don’t really matter. How I charmed six former Prime Ministers into fucking me isn’t appropriate content for our nation’s histories.
Nor would it do to shock my readers with graphic recounts of Prime Ministerial fuckery, though such images are terrifyingly vivid in my memories. What matters is that our national crisis has been resolved and everyone should stop worrying about it. Our surviving former Prime Ministers have been confidently and tenderly fucked.
Not by some expert fucker with qualifications, nor by a greedy fuckist seeking reward, but – in the spirit of Ned Kelly and Banjo Patterson – by an everyday Aussie bloke.
If not me, any other patriot would have done the same. Because sometimes when a problem arises, you just have to say: “Fuck it. Literally.”