Right now the nation’s brightest political minds are trapped in the recycled air of Budget lock up, sniffing out black holes and poring over numbers. Shuffling papers and press releases and pinning down wonks.
As they drift past the tables of quartered chicken sandwiches and party pies to congregate at the figurative water cooler, do you think they’re avidly discussing the ramifications of the wafer-thin surplus? Do you think the drip filter coffee-fed excitement is centred around cuts to foreign aid?
There’s a fair to middling chance that it’s not. While there is a rumour doing the rounds that there will indeed be something big in today’s Budget papers that wasn’t already detailed, the chances are that people are still chinwagging about the Craig Thomson affair.
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I once heard a story about a prostitute and a man who claimed to be her husband.
The prostitute, a middle-aged woman had complained about a car that was constantly parked outside her place of work and even sometimes as she made her way home.
Several weeks later, the car was spotted but when the man inside the car was approached and asked why he was parked there, he immediately started to cry. Pointing to the window of the brothel he said, “My wife is in there.”
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