Well, my blog is finally having an impact, fellow travellers. I seem to have annoyed an appalling right-wing blogger, always a good sign. He suggested that Fred Hilmer, Fairfax media mogul, should hire me as an Opinion editor. He was obviously being facetious. But the irony is that I was actually offered the job -- just two days ago, in fact.
There were a lot of negotiations going on. My people saw their people. Lawyers bustled back and forth. Mobiles were buzzing all over the place. It was really exciting, fellow travellers! But the contract fell through at the last minute. You see, one of my stipulations was that my animal companion Jocelyn be given a weekly column on animal rights and environmental issues.
The regular columnists assembled in the Sydney office to debate the appointment. They decided that this was asking too much. You see, they believed an indigenous animal would have been much more appropriate.
Just then Richard Neville entered the room. He was down from the Blue Mountains for World Hug Day. Hearing the discussion, he suggested his spirit guide -- a pygmy wombat named Rousseau -- as a replacement. Everyone wholeheartedly agreed. But Jocelyn wasn't too happy. And soon Rousseau was, well, a little worse for wear.
That's the media for you: really dog eat dog (and cat eat wombat!).
The staff were appalled. So was I, since Jocelyn never preys on indigenous species. Since Rousseau was the last remaining pygmy wombat Robert Manne sagely decided to classify the unfortunate incident as genocide.
I pointed out that at least Jocelyn was female, not male, and Siamese, not European. To their credit the assembled columnists decided that these were ameliorating factors. So I would not have to pay reparations; a heartfelt apology would suffice.
I was just about to call John Howard's office to demand that he deliver one on behalf of the nation when Richard, now in tears, noticed that Jocelyn's eyes were blue.
"I knew it was a conspiracy," he yelled. "She's not Siamese. She's an Aryan! Fascist cat! Fascist cat!"
Considering Jocelyn's deep social conscience (she's a really political animal, hey!) and her commitment to environmental causes this was a truly appalling accusation. But before I even had time to seek legal representation Jocelyn vomited up a fur ball. It contained a small bugging device!
It turned out that Rousseau wasn't a progressive wombat after all. He was a right-wing mole!
I was relieved to discover that Jocelyn's instincts were correct after all. We're still deciding whether or not to sue Fairfax for the distress the whole incident caused us both.
And all I can say is: with fellow travellers like Richard Neville, who needs global right-wing corporatist hegemonies?
Still, Fairfax continues to do a fine job despite its mistake in not hiring us.