In the beginning the earth was formless and void, and darkness was over the surface of the deep…..and true believers blew bubbles


After a noteworthy career as a junior sporting star Michael ‘The Beefcake’ De Brenni is elevated elected to Queensland’s parliament by The Kingmaker the voters of Springwood.

The Beefcake declares in his maiden inaugural (sexist language removed by order of the ALP PC Council) speech that when the environment is under attack and the natural beauty of our land needs defending … I will stand up for it.

No-one at the time realises that he is referring to a cricket pitch.


All summer we’ll come flooding through the gates, to try and get a look at cricket’s greats; no matter what the season, we always have a reason, to shout out come on Aussie with our mates ….


The Beefcake attends a cricket-related even at The House of Broken Dreams and receives a complimentary gift pack containing cricket paraphernalia. Sources present at the time say that The Beefcake’s kit is devoid of a middle stump or balls.

Our hero is seen walking the halls of the House of Broken Dreams with the bat from his gifted kit upraised. It is the first time he has been witnessed with the wood erect since he was seen emerging from the Minister for Everything Related to Women Except Their Husband’s office in the early hours of winter’s day.

Honest Rob Pyne – the wheelchair bound former footy superstar and Brownlow medalist of the House of Broken Dreams, who these days kicks goals by putting up private members bills based on ALP party policy and watching from the stands as Labor boot them down – asks The Beefcake if he has suddenly got his bat up so that he can turkey slap him with it (Honest Rob has been causing Beefy’s crew a few problems in the preceding weeks).

Displaying the life-long devotion to the national (blokes) summer game that has seen him spend many a workday sucking piss in an ALP sponsor’s corporate box, the Beefcake channels Lillee on Miandad and tells Honest Rob that he’d like to hit him for six.

Archie suggests to the crowd that a wee pill or a sly puff may cheer The Beefcake up, but is unilaterally ignored.


Love me tender, love me true, all my dreams fulfilled; for me my darling I love you, and I always will …..

Wild Bill (Byrne) Hickok shoots a few rats in the roof and himself in the foot, and is sent to the country for a spell and a spot of fishing. He loses his hair on his journey.

The Beefcake is appointed Minister for Sport.

Good judges speculate that Queensland’s long run of success in State of Origin is soon to come to an end.

The Beefcake ignores them, and pronounces that he is determined as ever to deliver significant reforms across the building and construction and housing sectors.

The sportsfans of the Pineapple State are puzzled, but rather than moan they flick the channel on the remote to a rerun of Splendor in the Grass to avoid Wild Bill shooting at them, or the Beefcake coming after them with a complimentary cricket bat.


Should I give up, or should I just keep chasing pavements? Even if it leads nowhere …..


The Beefcake signals his singular ignorance of Australia’s war history and declares that the Adele concert – inexplicably held on the wicket at the Gabba, just weeks before the AFL season is due to kick off – will be the largest single gathering of Queenslanders anywhere, anytime, even though there are actually two of them.

He travels to Suncorp Stadium with the Member for Saving the Reef and His Own Political Future By Moving to Murrumba and Approving the Adani Environmental Disaster and declares that a couple of hundred seats will be lost so that he can erect a 147 square meter big screen for Queensland footy fans to admire himself upon.

Premier Whatevayousay cringes and lets out an audible gasp, but like the tree that falls in the forest nobody hears her, for she is has walked a thousand miles and a thousand more on a pilgrimage to the AFL stronghold of India accompanied by a delegation of Mayors whose fiefdoms rest an 1000 miles and 1ooo miles more from the Whitsunday Islands.

The delegation are in the East-Asian prefuct of Letsfrakdugasnrekdarif on a sacred mission to Save the Barrier Reef, and as the Premier marches down the famous Mynebyproduksindawatrkilcoralunfish Promenade with crochet needles in her palm an ever-growing adoring crowd of wildly applauding Adani executives trail in her wake.


There’s no smoke, no flame; if you lose that pilot I can fly your plane – If you want solid ground, come on and try me; I can take you so high that you’re never gonna want to come down


The Beefcake learns that while he is somewhere at off-stump, in the middle of her f*ck this and f*ck that mid-song one-way conversation with the kiddies at the concert his much loved flame-haired alterDelnate fantasy chick Adele has  f*cked the middle of the Gabba ground: to his abject horror our hero realises that the faux- feminist icon has, aided and abetted by her support act Accidental Anna and the Guileless Gang Featuring MC Mickey Mick, thrown the Lions to the circus, and that it is he who is left holding the white-tipped ringmaster’s cane.

Caught in the spotlight, the Beefcake instinctively grabs a pair of the nearest posies of pansies, demonstrates the depth of his sporting credentials by gyrating them simultaneously clockwise and anti-clockwise – right and left – throws his right leg in the air, channels his third favorite red-haired vixen Toni Basil and shouts ‘Oh Mickey!’

Overwhelmed by love, the moment, and a familiar sense of self-importance, the Beefcake cuts short his solo before reaching the start of the seminal second verse ‘what a pity you don’t understand’, and instead screams that If the women’s footy players can’t cop our groomed wickets the pitches, we’ll drop the bloody groomed wickets on them and the studs can kick goals on the grass all over the pitches’.

A 12 year old whose dad has just grounded him for 10 days for laying 10 feet of his mum’s black PVC compost liner over the newly laid $175 a square meter turf in the backyard of the family’s 2500m2 Rochedale South mansion tugs at the Beefcake’s sleeve. and having gained his attention – their are no female rangas in sight – pulls hims aside.

‘It takes 2 years to prepare a drop-in pitch Mr Beefcake’ the kid tells him. ‘I just Googled it on my iPhone’.

The Beefcake quickly whips out his smart phone, asks his assistant – he has forgotten the boys name, there have been so many – how to use Google, hands the phone to the unknow socialist soldier, gets it back, stares intently at it and declares to the media that he must apologise profusely, but he has somewhere else that he urgently must go.

Our hero sprints for the exit – bystanders time his 100m sprint at 22.4 seconds – jumps in the ministerial limousine, cocks his left leg to warm down his hamstring, smiles down at the redhead grinning back up at him, and in response to his driver’s question of ‘Where to Minister?’ barks back ‘Anywhere but f*cking here, as long as its got plenty of grass, and keep your beady eyes on the road’.

Credible sources report that the ministerial motor was last spotted refueling with the Ministerial corporate card at Blue Knob, approximately 20km north of the NSW town of Nimbin.


Together, together, together everyone; together, together, come on let’s have some fun….


The first grand final of the hugely successful women’s AFL competition cannot be played at the premiership leading Brisbane Lion’s home ground the Gabba due to damage caused by the high heels of the feminists attending the Adele concert.

The home grand final is moved to the Lion’s rival ground at the Gold Coast. The Lion’s opponents Adelaide rejoice, for the Lion’s away record at Carrara Stadium is not flash. In fact the premiers have never played on the ground at all.

Somehow the scheduler forget that AFL team the Gold Coast Subs have been long scheduled to play their first game of the premiership season on the same day, with the kick-off whistle slated to blow just 3 hours after the full-time hooter in the women’s grand final.

Pandemonium reigns. The AFL, caught in the middle of a logistical nightmare, announces convoluted plans to shuffle fans from one part of the ground to the next under security guard in order to accommodate the contractual rights of ticket holders to both games.

The Beefcake, safe in the arms of his fourth-favorite flame haired sheila, is however unruffled, and invites all of Queensland’s 4 million residents to travel free of charge on the South-East Queensland transport network to attend the women’s final at the 25 000 seat capacity Carrara Stadium.

Constituents in Rob Pyne’s Cairns electorate – who are picking up the tab for the day of free commuter transport in the South-East corridor of the State – claim that they’ve been beaten with a cricket bat.

The Beefcake, unruffled by the negativity of his critics, travels with his young daughter in the Ministerial limousine to Brendale, 100 km north of Carrara Stadium. There he tells all 4 million Queenslanders that he and his daughter are pumped for Saturday’s AFL Women’s Grand Final.

His daughter – who has just watched Gone With the Wind for the 32nd time on her father’s government-issued iPad – turns, smiles, and innocently asks the Beefcake

Frankly my Dad, so full of hot air, do you think they give a damn?

They don’t.

The crowd of seven – each political staffers – turns, and walks away.

The Lions, cheered on by just a few thousand fans – their numbers boosted markedly by the many hundreds of disinterested freeloaders chugging Crown Lager and chatting about housing developments – are defeated by the Adelaide side who are lifted by the spirited sea-changers that make up the majority of the Metricon Stadium crowd after the free trains from Brisbane fail to turn up at the station.

The LNP wins each of the Logan electorates in a cakewalk at the next state poll, and the Beefcake is consigned to the dustbin of incidental Queensland political history. He takes with him the complimentary cricket bat that once brought him such immolate fame.

Australia routs the Poms 5-0 in the 2017/18 Ashes series after winning the first test at the Gabba by an innings and 217 runs. Kevin Mitchell (Junior) is acclaimed by the nation, and around the cricketing world, for preparing the outstanding wicket that afforded both sides the opportunity to engage in a honest game of cricket – a quality so absent during the Aussie’s tour of India playing on wickedly biased drop-in pitches –  and affording the Baggy Green Caps an even deck upon which they could show their prowess in the first test and lay a platform for the series success


It’s so cold out here in your wilderness; I want you to be my keeper, but not if you are so reckless …

The Beefcake, alone and palely loitering in a park to which dozens once flocked to adore him as he proclaimed his greatness, sits under a coolibah tree, a pair of cheap white pods adorning his oversized ears.

He is lost in his thoughts; the Beefcake’s head bobs in a figure of eight as he listens to his Adele playslist, and dreams of his long lost Del.

‘It’s just water under the bridge’ he softly hums, as the teardrops fall and roll in the deep of the Logan River, where they are swept away into the nothingness of the Adani mine despoiled sea.

Just as it was before, it shall always be.

The End.