clubbsClubs Australia is the representative industrial body – the union, if you will – for the well-traveled men (not a misogynist statement, there really are bugger all sheilas) who run the footy, bowls, fishing, hunting, shooting, rooting and Returned Soldiers League clubs across the Wide Brown Land, and smile as the poor ignorant buggers in the mainly working class wastelands plunge their dollars into the pokies at a guaranteed average loss of between 14 and 28 cents in the larger gold coin.

The well traveled men – beneficiaries almost one and all of trade conferences and fact finding missions in escort-filled cities abroad like Las Vegas – have their backs up at present, because Uncle Rupert who owns the footy rights, and has spent billions over decades to acquire them, suddenly wants to up the price that the men’s money spinning gold mines (aka registered not-for-profit community clubs) have to pay in order that the over the odds for beer paying club member can watch the footy while he drains his father’s little helper served in a 16 ounce glass.

And Clubs Australia are there geeing them on – and doing them a huge disservice in the process – threatening to head to the ACCC consumer watchdog and getting the nod to take collective boycott action against Uncle Rupert and his third hand monopoly cartel Fox Sports, the mob issuing the invoices.

They are dead set mugs these clowns from Clubs Australia. They haven’t got the numbers, and don’t understand the rules, and are leading their members down the path of no return into the shadow of the valley of back wages death.

And they don’t even know it.

Let me give you a simple little tip: only small businesses qualify for an approval to take collective action against a commercial supplier. A small business is defined as one with less than 20 employees. And 2/3rd’s of f*ck all of a hundredth of Clubs Australia’s members employ less than 20 members. Which means that the threatened action is so far south of a joke that it’s simply moronic, but the unintended consequences are absolutely bloody hilarious, which the CA crew will I am sure realise when they read and disseminate this poke in their goddamn arse.

Please allow me to demonstrate the self-proclaimed expertise of the one armed bandit’s Boss’s  union by using the example of the Tocumwal Golf Club, the Clubs Australia member organisation whose bargaining experience – quoted at length in CA’s submission to the Fair Work Commission arguing that young Australian’s who give up their weekends to serve us beer while we watch the footy should have their pay cut for no real reason other than they could – was apparently a goddamn nightmare because of bureaucratic red tape and restrictions (even though as I read it the CA adviser to the golf club f*cked up the paperwork and is merely trying to cover their arse).

‘Tocum-f*cking-who?’ I hear you ask. ‘Where the f*ck is that?”

Which is a perfectly reasonable question and one I myself initially asked, so being the curious type I am armed with an answer.

Tocumal – translated from the local indigenous tongue as ‘Deep Hole in the River’ – is a tiny town of 1860 punters that is sort of like a mini-Albury, sitting a bit further inland across from It’s got four pubs, two primary schools, a footy team called the Bloods and is the place where the world’s largest ever Murray Cod was court, which if you whacked a Margaret in front of it would mean that you’re on the nod for not, and if you don’t know what the hell I mean then it’s time you brushed up on your Strine and started re-reading the Australian Dictionary of Rhyming Slang.

To cut to the chase though what Tocumwal also has is a 36 hole championship golf course, and the small club that services it employs on Clubs Australia’s own numbers 38 good men and women, which means it is almost double the limit required for recognition as a small business under our competition laws, and therefore ineligible to be a starter in what is destined to go down in the history books as the Great Shoot Yourself in the Foot Footy Boycott of 2017.

If Tocumwal – pop. 1846 – is out of the Clubs Australia strike force, then so is almost every registered club in the wide brown land, except those in towns of about 1200 or less, which isn’t very bloody many.

You see in order to meet the qualifying criteria to join the ACC approved De-Occupy Murdoch Movement a club has to fall within the competition regulator’s imaginary (and legislated) small business category, which means that they have to employ less than 20 low-paid punters across the entirety of their outfit.  If Tocumwal don’t, then who the f*ck does is the question you’d have to be asking if you were one of Rupert’s Tactical Response Group Tacticians – Doubting for example – and the answer you’d be giving yourself is bloody nobody.

Unless all the workers are casuals, ‘cos then they don’t count. Not unless they are regular and systematic employees that is. Which of course means that they ain’t casuals at all, and would be a legally admissible acknowledgement of dodgy employment practices that would open Clubs Australia’s member’s gates well wide enough for the Barbarians – the fair pay loving union communists – to invade and wreak havoc.

Sometimes good ideas aren’t so great; and my guess is when the clowns from Clubs Australia read this article and ponder the warning at the heart of the ancient tale of Pandora’s Box they just might agree.And suddenly a settlement will be agreed, and the strike forever abandoned. .

Betcha Rupert doesn’t flick me a sling for the tip though.

He wouldn’t know a gift horse if it bit his an equine Texan on the tit.

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