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Brisbane stockbroker Steve Wilson – a long time board member of the Centre for Independent Studies, the Tory think tank that is the enemy of working class Australians – has just been appointed to head Queensland Racing. by Gerry Bellino’s niece Grace Grace, the Racing Minister who presumably knows more than somewhat about the percentage advantage in favour of the house, but until a few months ago had never actually been to the races,.

It’s a bit like Malcolm Turnbull appointing a bloke like me who drank cask wine for most of his adult life prior to giving the whole plonk game up as a bad joke as the head of the Wine Council of Australia isn’t it?

It’s a goddamn joke and one that the LNP would never be a party to; not because they’re not crooked c*nts, but because only Labor lackeys are stupid enough to appoint their purported enemies to top posts when they could and should appoint their allies: it’s a collective flaw that only a phalanx of forensic psychiatrists skilled in diagnosing inferiority complexes could explain.

The only answer I can come up with is that the Labor most imagine the one-time party of the working people to be aren’t in fact that much Labor at all.

But then again I  guess when you have a political party whose Federal leader is the  protege of a crooked robber baron capitalist Richard likePratt, and the State Racing Minister is the niece of a pair of infamous crime figures and cop corrupters called Gerry and Tony Bellino, well then why should anyone be surprised at all?

I’m a realist and know exactly which way the sands in the hour glass fall, but I’m also  a victim of child sex abuse and figure that if you lie down and bend over you are going to get fucked, and with this in mind I have to confess that I have some major concerns about the newly appointed head of Racing Queensland’s past associations with pedophiles and their protectors who have covered up the abuse.

And is there anything wrong with that?

After all I am not saying that Steve Wilson or any of his team are child abusers – in fact for the avoidance of uncertainty I want to be clear that I am saying they are not -but isn’t it fair to say that the folk in charge of an organisation that has legislative control over young stable hands who are aged just 15, and apprentice jockeys who are even younger, should by rights boast an unblemished record when it comes to matters relating to the welfare of young people?

And shouldn’t they or their mates surely be required to demonstrate a long history of willingness to report to police any concerns that they may reasonably hold about how their acquaintances, associates or accomplices  have dealt with young punters over whom they hold power in the past?

stabschool

It’s just normal, isn’t it?

Sure it is.

That’s why you won’t be wondering what the hell Archie is on about when I ask you to take a look at this.

schoolsss

Mmm.

Look at this rogue’s gallery.

First up we have Wayne Bennett’s mysterious benefactor Ken Talbot, the bloke who corrupted Gordon Nuttall, and whot ‘died’ in a plane crash in Africa  – sorry we can’t provide you with a quotation mark removing Coroners report because none was ever done – while he was on bail for offences that would have seen him serve several years in the can if he was ever convicted, and given that Talbot’s well lawyered-up off-sider Harold Shand copped a long lag that appears to have been an inevtiable certainty had Kenny survived long enough to face his maker’s man on earth dressed in an ermine robe.

The foul-mouthed doppelganger of mine who claims to be my daughter wants to know how the f*ck  a serious alleged offender with the means to take the bolt like Talbot got to keep his passport given that he was facing charges of a magnitude that would almost certainly have resulted in a spell in prison had he been convicted of them, and it’s a bloody good question to which I’m not able to provide a clear, succinct response.

So not wanting to expose myself as babe in the woods when it comes to incomprehensible judicial decisions I move on, and second up we come to Ross Dunning, the former head of Queensland Rail, a couple of Port Authorities and who knows how many highly paid State Government appointed boards.

dunno

The stunning Ross Dunning, – an Anglican Church insider and long-time corporate darling of various ALP governments from the late 1980’s on – was charged a few years ago charged with a number of serious kiddy fiddling offences allegedly committed against children who were in his care in the 60’s.

Dunning had been caught confessing in the main, or at the very least in large part, to these heinous offences said to have been committed against kids, but somehow just like all good old boys who are said to love boy and happen to be well connected the charges he faced were dropped after crucial evidence – that evidence being the tape recording of Dunning admitting his crimes against one of his victims, the said recording having been made while the caller speaking to Dunning was sitting wired up in a police station – was inexplicably ruled inadmissible by a bunch of good old wig wearing boys and girls who somehow seem to hold that the rights of accused perverts are more important than that of their innocent under-aged victims.

I’ve listened to the tapes, and although they have long ago been sent to the Nudgee tip in the back of a rented ute let me say without any equivocation whatsoever that if they had been admitted into evidence Mr Dunning would be reading this story from a prison cell rather than a government-subsidised mansion, and if Dunning takes umbrage at this bold declaration he is warmly invited to issue a writ against me and we’ll work out our differences using the test of the balance of reasonable probability rather than beyond a reasonable doubt, and he can call me Betty and baby when I call him I won’t call him Al, I’ll call him OJ instead.

The Dunning case is worthy of a story in itself, perhaps even a Commission of Inquiry even, for it is an absolute exemplar of how the rich and well-connected get away with figurative murder – the killing in this case being the tortured suffering felt for the rest of their life of the abused children – but that tale will have to wait for another day, because we can’t keep the Queen’s man waiting can we?

And so moving right along third up we have Peter Hollingworth, Dunning’s mate who was for an inglorious decade and a disgraceful bit the Anglican Archbishop of some ill-imagined fiefdom of equally imagined non-interventionist God.

Hollingworth’s sins have been well publicised, even if only in part, and there’s no need for me at this stage to elaborate about his sins.

You all know about that arsehole.

willy

Next up we come to Archbishop Phillip Aspinall, aka he Tasmanian Devil, and all I can say is a single four letter word and much to your surprise I’m sure it doesn’t start with C or F and isn’t generally regarded as obscene, although in this case it absolutely is.

The four letter word?

Ibid.

Next please.

Sure Archie.

Fifth up we have the Very Reverend John Parkes.

parksy

Reverend my arse. This above is Johnny Boy, out of the closet and out of hiding.

But only of course because a Royal Commission forced him out.

F*ck him. I have better things to waste my time on other than writing about Satan’s handmaidens.

Do we need any more examples of the seemingly never-ending stream of sick fuckers connected to our State government-appointed Capos?

Yeah why not? Eggs come in dozens and half dozens, so let’s throw in another rotten and rancid yolk just so we might fill the carton.

The Reverend Rupert Jeffcoat.

Number seven sicko.

Organist extraordinaire, player of young men’s organs sublime.

rootpertsssrootpert

Let me reiterate what I said at the start: I am not for a minute suggesting that Steve Wilson is a pedophile. In fact I will put my hand on my heart and say that he is not.

But gee, just like Robert Duvall loved the smell of napalm in the morning I love a good poem as the sun comes up, and by jingo there’s nothing I like better than sharing crackerjack quality with my mates over a bowl of cold comfort or cornflakes.

So here’s one just for you sportsfans.

Happy Wednesday.

PIGGS