Mister Jack Goes To Canberra
After returning to his home, Jack decided that he should warn the Prime Minister. He didn’t fancy cycling, walking or riding in the pouch of a kangaroo, so he went down to his local corrugated iron milkbar (the structure was made out of corrugated iron, not the milk, as that would be silly) and bought a car.
But this car was different.
It was from the future (which would make sense as cars hadn’t been invented yet)!!! It was called…
The car wasn’t actually evil, just angry, and though it couldn’t talk, it had a pair of eyes where its headlamps should be and jagged-y teeth on its radiator. EVIL CAR cost him all of his savings (three pennies), but it was worth it, he decided, as he zoomed across the outback at the massive speed of forty kilometres per hour.
In a matter of weeks, he reached Canberra. He stormed up to the Houses of Parliament, which were made of corrugated iron, even the flag at the top of the flagpole, which was, incidentally, also made of corrugated iron. He burst open the big corrugated iron doors and stomped up the shag-pile corrugated iron carpeted stairs into the Prime Minister’s office.
“Oy Cobber! You can’t come in ‘ere mate!” said the Prime Minister, whose name was Edmund Barton (in private he was known as Bruce x 10 To The Power Of 4. Why this was no-one knew).
“Oh yes I can!” said Jack, “I have a corrugated iron pass!”
“My God!” said the Prime Minister. “Only a bunyip can give those out inside magic didgeridoos! They are higher than gold passes, wool passes and diamond passes stuck together!”
“Yes,” said Jack, “They’re the only thing in the world of Australia that is worth more than a sheep or some corrugated iron on the stockmarket!”
“Wha’ about a sheep made of corrugated iron?” said the Prime Minister.
“Oh Crikey! Nothin’ in the world can compete with that. Not even a piece of the one true cross, or any of its false compatriots!” (Incidentally, the way that the Prime Minister had gotten into power was not only that he allowed sheep to vote, but also because of his pro-Australia campaign that the One True Cross, the Spear of Destiny and the Ark of the Covenant had been made of corrugated iron. This had won him the hearts of the voting public and the annoyance of all non-Australian Christians.)
“But anyway,” said Jack, “I come to you with startlingly startling news!”
“Oh Crikey,” said the Prime Minister, “Not those damned dingoes again. If I’ve told ‘em once, I’ve told ‘em twice, they can’t have Tasmania no matter how bad it sucks! Remember what ‘appened when we gave it to those thylacines? Now they’re all dead!”
“No they aren’t,” said Jack.
“Well, we’re planning to eradicate them with a corrugated iron ICBM.”
“What’s an ICBM?” asked Jack.
“Uh, just a great big missile made out of corrugated iron, nuclear matter, a meat pie and some more corrugated iron. Now, what ‘ave you got to tell me?”
Jack stared at him for a second.
“’Ello?” said the Prime Minister, clicking his fingers in Jack’s face.
“Oh sorry,” said Jack, snapping out of his trance-like trance, “I was just daydreaming about that meat pie. Oh, I’d love to eat that meat pie.”
“But it’s been dipped in nuclear waste!” cried the Prime Minister.
“I suppose it would give it an extra bit of zing!” said Jack.
“Besides, you can’t ‘ave it anyway,” said the Prime Minister. “We’re at war and we ‘ave to ration.”
“No we’re not,” said Jack.
“Oh, yeah,” said the Prime Minister, “I forgot.”
“Well you probably might be at war after I tell you what I came here to tell you in the first place before you distracted me with your meat pies and your ICBMs made from meat pies and your corrugated iron and your corrugated iron meat pies.”
“No-one said anything about corrugated iron meat pies!”
“Well, I was thinking it,” said Jack. “Imagine ‘ow much one of thems would be worth.”
“Or even a corrugated iron sheep meat pie,” said the Prime Minister, a dreamy look in his eyes.
“Awwwh,” said Jack, his mouth madly salivating. “But I digress and salivate. I have word that a stupid bloody Seppo who wants to take over Australia!”
“Crikey dingo!” said the Prime Minister, opening a meat pie packet to calm himsElf down (the packet, of course, was made of corrugated iron), “We’ll mobilise the army immediately. Sheila!” he shouted, for that was the name of his wife, “Get the army in ‘ere!”
The army marched in. It comprised of a sheepdog, a hill’s hoist and two men both named Bruce.
“This is the army?” shouted Jack in indignant corrugated iron-like rage.
“You think this is bad? You should see the Navy,” said the Prime Minister. “It’s just a koala in a cuisinart.” (The cuisinart was made of corrugated iron, as was the koala.)
“What about the Air Force?” asked Jack.
“That’s just a man holding a balloon jumping up and down!” replied the Prime Minister.
“Oh no!” said Jack. “We’ll be the laughing stock of the UN. They’ll think we’re beer-swilling, meat-pie eating, corrugated-iron and sheep-obsessed yobbos!”
“Don’t worry,” said the Prime Minister. “We’ve got the tourism department working on that.”
“Is that the man outside with ‘we are not beer-swilling, meat-pie eating, corrugated-iron and sheep-obsessed yobbos’ sign?”
“Yes,” said the Prime Minister. “I painted that mysElf!”
“Don’t you think you should have employed a professional Australian painter like Tom Roberts or Genghis Khan?”
“’Ow dare you!” said the PM. “I studied for a PhD in Painting Signs at Dangarup University!”
“How long?” asked Jack.
“Ten minutes,” said the PM, “But I got the general gist.”
“Besides,” the PM added, “Genghis Khan isn’t a painter, he’s a war-tyrant! Why, just last week he mailed me the head of my brother.”
“Oh yeah,” said Jack. “I often get those two professions confused. Now we have to go and stop that mad painter Norman from taking over Australia!”
“Don’t you mean war-tyrant?” asked the PM.
“I’m sure he paints as well,” said Jack defensively.
EVIL CAR was a time travelling car that was invented in the year 10,031. He was accidentally sent back in time to 1807, Early June. He is not pictured below.