A Quartet of Heavyweights

That call came just before ten to two, and it was just after ten to when the introductions were made.

"Doctor Ballantyne," Moran began, "sees himself as the Territory's second Labor Senator."

"So they don't do Maths at Medical School," the Federal Secretary remarked. "Or maybe he was away the day they did division."

"I know what one hundred divided by three is," Ballantyne replied. "And I know when to keep my mouth shut and keep what should be classified information under wraps."

That one went straight over the visitors' heads and landed somewhere over on the other side of the boundary.

"When you were at lunch at Wharf One in Darwin yesterday," Ballantyne continued, "you didn't pay too much attention to the blackfella sitting at the next table, did you? After two of you gave him a look that he read as What the fuck is he doing here? No? Didn't think so. George doesn't like that. Wasn't entirely in agreement with your analysis of Territory affairs either, but he had given me a couple of snippets when I talked to him out in the community on Tuesday,"

He turned his head towards Moran.

"You were right about Bugalugs, by the way. They've got a dirt file on him that's ready to go as soon as you blokes come out with an endorsed ticket with him on it. And not just for the Senate. In any jurisdiction, And what's in there will curl your short hairs, friends and neighbours. I thought I knew most of it, but George has some real beauties in the bombshell department. With photos. And his daughter Ellie's one of those black bitches you were talking about the other day."

"So you can't go with Bugalugs. Or you could, and throw the indigenous vote right away. And George didn't like your doesn't matter who we put up instead of him line, either."


© Ian Hughes 2017