Chapter Text
The Tragedy of Coriolanus: Australian Parliamentary Edition.
Disclaimers:
This is intended to be a humorous work and should not be taken seriously. No effort has been made to ensure that the various persons that appear in this play are portrayed accurately.
Furthermore: Shakespeare’s play: « Coriolanus » is in the public domain and is not owned by myself. While much of the text is directly copied from the play, parts of it are modified.
« Taken », J.K Rowling’s « Harry Potter » and other quoted or paraphrased works are owned by other people. No profit is being made by this work.
Dramaticus personae
Tony Hockey ABBOTT (Caius Martius Coriolanus)
Tony was born a simple boy who just wanted to stop the boats, but the years have turned him into a proud warrior and the leader of the dreaded Nationals. Tony will have a tough time ahead him as he faces betrayal, mortal combat and, most uncomfortably: homosexuality. Sweet little Tony is madly in love with Joe Hockey and even took his last name when they married.
Tony by birth, Bishop by ideological adoption, Hockey by marriage and Abbott by conquest.
Joe HOCKEY, husband of Tony Hockey (Vigilia, wife of Caius Martius)
It’s not gay if there’s money involved says Joe Hockey: the docile, house-husband of Tony Hockey. Joe is really concerned about power prices because he does the ironing commercially and it’s going to go up in price under a Labor government.
BRONWYN Bishop, mentor of Tony Abbott (Volumnia, mother of Coriolanus)
A powerful matriarchal figure who dominates Tony Abbott and forces him to do things that are not necessarily in his best interest. Bronwyn is notable for being the doting mentor of Tony Abbott and for having a generous travel allowance.
The POPE (Titus Lartius)
He had always preached peace but when Canberra asked, The Pope was ready to fight for what was right. Cognizant of the age and capable of good press despite being the head of a Church, The Pope is known as « Your $&@# Holiness » to the enemies of Canberra because of his status of head of the Church.
John HOWARD (Cominius)
Former Prime Minister and legendary warrior, John singlehandedly fights off foreign invasions with a waggle of his eyebrows. Enemies of Canberra best watch out lest they be executed- or even worse put on the Tampa.
Julie BISHOP (Menenius Agrippa)
Julie Bishop is a canny political operator with a smooth tongue and masterful metaphors. Don’t speak against the Nationals or this belly will eat you up.
JULIA Gillard (Sicinius Velutus):
Deceptive, evil, red headed: Julia is a wily unionist who wants to wants to stick her finger into the power pot of power. She claims she’s just trying to do her best but she’s actually serving her evil masters: the CMPELU (the constructors and manufacturers of plays and engineering of lies UNION).
Bill SHORTEN (Junius Brutus)
Julia’s secret boyfriend, Bill doesn’t do anything of note because he’s outshone by everyone else- which is how he prefers it as it makes it easier to enact his schemes.
Citizens:
Sarah HANSON-YOUNG, Nick XENOPHON, Ricky MUIR, Clive PALMER, Bob DAY, Jacqui LAMBIE, Cathy MCGOWAN and Mike BAIRD.
This rowdy bunch of citizens think they can change the world. They’d best be careful when they play with big kids- otherwise they could get hurt.
Christopher PYNE, friend of Joe Hockey. (Valeria, lady-friend of Virgilia.)
Pauline HANSON (Gentlewoman)
A 'gentlewoman' who makes a short cameo.
Malcolm TURNBULL, enemy of Tony Hockey Abbott and military leader of Liberals. (Tullius Aufidius, enemy of Coriolanus):
Tony Hockey certainly sins in envying the nobility of Malcolm Turnbull: lawyer, banker politician and, perhaps, Tony’s illicit lover. Turnbull is leader of the Liberal party: sworn enemies of Canberra and the Nationals. He is a tenacious foe and a dangerous friend.
Greens (Conspirators)
The dastardly Greens are always plotting to bring down good government and give money to poor people. Some of them have even infiltrated the general Canberran citizenry by posing as university students. Even Bob Brown has been pulled out of retirement to participate in their villainy.
End of Dramaticus Personae
ACT I
SCENE I. Canberra. A street.
Enter a company of mutinous Citizens, with petitions, signs, and other weapons
Sarah Hanson-Young
Before we proceed any further, hear me speak.
All
Speak, speak.
Sarah Hanson-Young
You are all resolved rather to die than to go without high speed broadband?
All
Resolved. resolved.
Sarah Hanson-Young
First, you know Tony Hockey is chief enemy to the people.
All
We know it, we know it.
Sarah Hanson-Young
Let us kill him, and we’ll have internet at our own price.
Is it a verdict?
All
No more talking on it; let it be done: away, away!
Nick Xenophon
One word, good citizens.
Sarah Hanson-Young
We are accounted poor citizens, the wealthy-good.
What authority gorges on would relieve us;
if they would give us but the excess,
we might guess they relieved us humanely.
But they think we are too much: the leanness that afflicts us,
the object of our misery,
is as an inventory to itemise their abundance; our pain is a gain to them.
Let us revenge this with a strike before we are struck down by Work Choices:
for the Lord knows we speak this in hunger for data, not in thirst for revenge.
Nick Xenophon
Would you especially make libspill against Tony Hockey?
All
Against him first: he’s a very dog to the Commonwealth.
Nick Xenophon
Consider you how he stopped the boats for his country?
Sarah Hanson-Young
Very well; and could be content to give him good
report for it, but that he pays himself with being proud.
Nick Xenophon
Fair call mate, but speak not maliciously.
Sarah Hanson-Young
I say to you, what he has done famously, he did
it to that end: though humble men can be content to say it was for his country,
he did it to please his mentor and partly to be proud;
which he is, even till the altitude of his virtue.
Nick Xenophon
What he cannot help in his nature, you account a
vice in him. You must in no way say he is covetous.
Sarah Hanson-Young
If I must not, I need not be barren of accusations;
he has faults, with surplus, to tire the nation in repetition.
Shouts within
What shouts are these? The other side of the city
is rioting: why stay we preaching here? to the Capitol!
All
Come on, come.
Sarah Hanson-Young
Oi! Quiet! who comes here?
Enter Julie Bishop
Nick Xenophon
Worthy Julie Bishop; one who has always loved the people.
Sarah Hanson-Young
She’s honest enough: would all the rest got a fair shake of that bottle!
Julie Bishop
What is up, team Australia?
Where do you go with petitions and signs?
The matter? Speak, I pray you.
Sarah Hanson-Young
Our business is not unknown to the government;
they have had inkling in the polls of what we intend to do,
which now we’ll show ‘em in deeds. They say poor suitors have strong breaths:
they shall know we have strong arms too.
Julie Bishop
Why, masters, my good friends, mine honest neighbors,
Why will you ruin yourselves?
Sarah Hanson-Young
We cannot, sir, we are ruined already.
Julie Bishop
I tell you, friends, advances in science and medical
Research and public health policies have meant
That life expectancy for Canberrans is one of the
highest in the world. For your wants,
Your suffering in this dearth, you may as well
Strike at the heaven with your signs as lift them
Against the Lucky Country, whose course will on
The way it takes, cracking ten thousand years
Of native history asunder more than ever
Appear in your impediment. For the dearth,
The Lord, not the Parliament, makes it, and
Your knees to Him, not arms, must bend. Alas,
You are stolen away by calamity
To where more awaits you, and you slander
The helms of the state, who care for you like fathers,
While you curse them as enemies.
Sarah Hanson-Young
Care for us! Fair Dinkum! They never cared for us yet:
Delivering us to budget deficit , but their banks-houses
crammed with cash; making laws for loans, to
support sharks; repealing daily any wholesome act
established against the rich, and providing more
piercing statutes daily, to chain up and restrain
the poor. If the wars don't eat us up, the GST will;
and there’s all the love they bear for us.
Julie Bishop
Either you must
Confess yourselves lone-wolf-lefty,
Or be accused of folly. I shall tell you
A pretty tale: it may be you have heard it;
But, since it serves my purpose, I will venture
To invest in it a little more.
Sarah Hanson-Young
Well, I’ll hear it, ma'am: but you must not think to
fob off our displeasure with a pretty tale of politics in the playground. Yet, if it please
you, deliver.
Julie Bishop
There was a time when all the body’s members
Rebelled against the shareholders, accused them:
That like a gulf they did remain
In the midst of the corporation, idle and inactive,
Weighing up the cents and dollars, but never bearing the
Good labour with the rest, whereas every one else
Did see and hear, design, instruct, work, build,
And, mutually participating, did contribute
Unto the common good of the corporation.
The shareholders answer’d— With a kind of smile,
For, by my words, I may make the shareholders smile
As well as speak—they tauntingly replied
To the discontented members, the mutinous parts
That envied their reward; just as you malign our government because
it is not like you.
Sarah Hanson-Young
Your belly’s answer? What be it!
The kingly-crowned CEO, the vigilant CFO,
The counsellor shrink, the receptionist our soldier,
The courrier our leg, human relations our tongue.
With the other organs and union helps
Should this obese belly be restrained?
Should this sink of the body be tamed?
The former agents, if they did complain,
What could the belly answer?
Julie Bishop
I will tell you
If you’ll bestow a loan—of that which you have little—
Patience, you’ll hear the belly’s answer.
Sarah Hanson-Young
You're long about it.
Julie Bishop
Note this, good friends;
Your most grave shareholders were deliberate,
Not rash like their accusers, and so answered:
‘True is it, my incorporate friends,’ said he,
‘That I receive the general profit at first,
Which you do live on; and fair it is,
Because I am the store-house and the shop
Of the whole body;
I trickle the wealth down to every member of the body
Even to the indigenous persons, the women, to the dole bludgers, the youth;
From me they receive that
Whereby they live: and though we cannot all at once
See what I do deliver out to each,
The shareholders can still make the audit up, that all
From me do receive back the dole of all,
And leave us but the imputation credits.’ What say you to it?
Sarah Hanson-Young
It was an answer: how do you apply this?
Julie Bishop
The senators of Canberra are these shareholders,
And you the mutinous members; for examine
Their counsels and their cares, digest things rightly
Touching the welfare of the common, you shall find
No public dividend which you receive
No New Start Allowance nor Commonwealth
rent Assistance nor HECS-Help nor anything like
The above public benefits which you receive
But it comes from them to you
And in no way from yourselves. What do you think,
You, the great toe of this assembly?
Sarah Hanson-Young
I the great toe! why the great toe?
Julie Bishop
For being one of the lowest, basest, poorest,
Of this most wise rebellion, you goes foremost:
you rascal, that art involved in the alternate music
scene and environmental activism.
But make you ready your slogans, signs and petitions,
With your mouths sprewing multitudinous malarky,
Canberra and her rats are at the point of battle;
Ere long, one side will prevail.
Enter Tony Hockey
Hail, noble Hockey!
Tony Hockey
Thanks. What’s the matter, you dissentious rogues,
That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion,
Make yourselves scabs?
Sarah Hanson-Young
We have ever your good word.
Tony Hockey
He that will give good words to you will flatter
Beneath abhorring. What would you have, you curs,
That like nor peace nor war? one affrights you,
The other makes you proud. He that trusts to you,
Where he should find you lions, finds you hares;
Where foxes, geese: you are no surer, no,
Than is the carbon tax under my reign,
Or solar power from the sun. Your virtue is
To make him worthier whose homosexuality subdues him
And curse that justice did it.
Those who deserve greatness
Deserve your hate; and your affections are
A boat man’s appetite, who desires most that
Which would increase his evil. He that depends
Upon your favors, might as well get out a bong
And smoke medical marijuana. Hang ye! Trust Ye?
With every minute you do change a mind,
And call him noble that was your hate,
Him vile that was your Prime Minister. What’s the matter,
That in these several places of the nation
You cry against the noble party room, who,
Under the Almighty God, keep you in awe, which else
Would feed on one another? What’s their seeking?
Julie Bishop
For internet at their own rates; whereof, they say,
The city is well stored.
Tony Hockey
Hang ‘em! They say!
They’ll sit by the telly, and presume to know
What’s done in the Parliament; who’s to rise,
Who thrives and who declines; side factions
and give out
Conjectural marriages; making parties strong
And feebling such as stand not in their liking
Below their ugg boots. They say there’s
data enough!
Would the party room lay aside their pity,
And let me use my Border Force, I’ll make a quarry
With thousands of these miserable taxpayers, as high
As I could reach in opinion polls.
Julie Bishop
Nah, these are almost thoroughly persuaded;
For though abundantly they lack discretion,
They are but passing cowardly. Yet, I implore you,
What say the other rioters?
Tony Hockey
They are dissolved: hang ‘em!
They said they were disconnected from the internet;
sigh’d forth proverbs,That boredom broke sovereign borders,
that even pensioners send emails,
That youtube was made for watching, that the Lord sent not
internet for the rich men only: with these moans
They vented their complainings; which being answer’d,
And a petition granted them, a strange one—
To break the heart of generosity,
And well look, it was a stunt. Let's be upfront about this.
It was a stunt.
Julie Bishop
What is granted them?
Tony Hockey
Five union leaders to defend their vulgar wisdoms,
Of their own choice: one’s Bill Shorten,
Julia Gillard, and I know not—‘Sbullshit!
The rabble should have first unroofed the city,
Before so prevailed with me: it will in time
Win power upon power and throw greater themes
Forth for insurrection’s arguing.
Go, get you home, you fragments!
Enter Rupert Murdoch (Messenger), hastily
Rupert Murdoch
Where’s Tony Hockey?
Tony Hockey
Here: what’s the matter?
Rupert Murdoch
The news is, sir, the Liberals are in arms.
Tony Hockey
I am glad of it: then we shall have means to vent
Our bad opinion. See, our great leaders.
Enter The Pope, John Howard, and other Senators; Bill Shorten and Julia Gillard
Eric Abetz
Hockey, ’tis true that you have lately told us;
The Liberals are in arms.
Tony Hockey
They have a leader,
Malcolm Turnbull, that will put you to it.
I sin in envying his party room,
And were I any thing but what I am,
I would wish me only he.
The Pope
You have fought together.
Tony Hockey
Were half to half the world by the ears and he
Upon my party, I’d revolt to make
Only my wars with him: he is a bull
That I am proud to hunt.
Eric Abetz
Then, worthier Hockey,
Venture forth with The Pope to these wars.
The Pope
It is your covenant since you were too much of
A pansy to become a priest.
Tony Hockey
Sir, it is;
And I am constant. John Howard, you
Shall see me once more strike at Malcolm’s face.
What, you're getting old? The roo's gone grey?
John Howard
No, Tony;
I’ll lean upon one crutch and fight with th’other,
Ere stay behind this business.
Julie Bishop
O, true-bred conservative patriarch!
Eric Abetz
Your company to the Capitol; where, I know,
Our greatest friends attend us.
[To The Pope] Lead you on.
[To the Citizens] From here to your homes; be gone!
Tony Hockey
Nay, let them follow:
The Liberals have much internet; Worshipful mutineers,
Your valor puts well forth: pray, follow.
Citizens steal away. Exit all but Julia Gillard and Bill Shorten
Julia Gillard
Was ever man so proud as is this Anthony?
Bill Shorten
He has no equal now you have dealt with Rudd.
Julia Gillard
When we were chosen union leaders for the people,—
Bill Shorten
Marked you his lip and eyes?
Julia Gillard
Nay, but his slogans.
Bill Shorten
Being moved, he will not spare to gird God.
Julia Gillard
We need not a priest for Prime Minister,
Move forward Australia must.
Bill Shorten
The present wars devour him: he is grown
Too proud to be so valiant.
Julia Gillard
Such a nature,
Tickled with good success, disdains the shadow
Which he treads on at noon: but I do wonder if
His insolence can brook to be commanded
Under the Pope.
Bill Shorten
Fame, at which he aims,
And in which already he’s well graced, can not
Better be held nor more attained than by
A place below the first: for what miscarries
Shall be the general’s fault, though he perform
To the utmost of a man, and distant crowds
Will then cry out of Tony as if he
Had borne the business!’
Julia Gillard
Besides, if things go well,
Opinion that so sticks on Hockey shall
Of his merits rob the Pope.
Bill Shorten
Come:
Half all The Pope’ honors are to Hockey.
though Hockey earned them not, and all his faults
To Hockey shall be honors, though indeed
In aught he merit not.
Exit
SCENE II. Abbott Town. The Parliament.
Enter Malcolm Turnbull and certain Senators
Eric Abetz
So, your opinion is, Turnbull,
That they of Canberra have read a cabinet leak
In the paper and thus know how we proceed.
Turnbull
Is it not yours?
What ever have been thought on in this cabinet,
That could be brought to bodily act before the
press had circumvention? ’Twas not four days gone
Since I heard from there; here are the words: I think
I have the letter here; yes, here it is.
Reads
‘They have pressed a power, but its purpose
and direction is not known: the data scarcity is great;
The people mutinous; and it is rumored,
The Pope and Anthony your old enemy,
Who is of Canberra worse hated than of you,
And John Howard, a most valiant Ex-PM,
These three lead on this preparation: consider of it.
Eric Abetz
Our army’s in the field
We never yet doubted that Canberra was ready
To answer us.
Turnbull
O, doubt not that;
I speak from certainties derived from a suppository of wisdom.
Nay, moreover, some parcels of their power are forth already,
And we will receive them soon enough. I leave your honors.
If Tony Hockey and I chance to meet,
’Tis sworn between us we shall ever strike
Till one can do no more.
All
The Lord assist you!
Turnbull
And keep your votes safe!
Eric Abetz
Farewell.
Exit
SCENE III. Canberra. A room in Hockey’ house.
Enter Bronwyn Bishop (MENTOR of Tony Hockey) and Joe Hockey (HUSBAND of Tony Hockey) they sit down on two low stools and sew.
Bronwyn Bishop
I pray you, treasurer, sing; or express yourself in a
more comfortable manner: if Tony were my husband, I
should freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he
won honor than in the confines of his cabinet where
he would show most love. When he was but
tender-bodied and the only son of my womb, when
youth with comeliness plucked all votes his way, when
for a day of the Queen’s entreaties a mentor should not
leave him an hour in the car, I, considering
how honor would become such a person, that it was
no better than picture-like to hang by the wall, if
renown made it not stir, was pleased to let him seek
danger where he was like to find fame. To a cruel
election I sent him; from where he returned, his brows
flushed with victory. I tell you, treasurer, I sprang not
more in joy at first hearing he was a politician
than now in first seeing he had proved himself a
man.
Joe Hockey
But had he died in the business of an election, madam;
how then?
Bronwyn Bishop
Then his good report should have been my apprentice; I
therein would have found issue. Hear me profess
sincerely: had I a dozen apprentices, each in my love
alike and none less dear than your and my good
Hockey, I'd rather had eleven die nobly for their
party than one voluptuously on the dole and out of action.
Enter Pauline Hanson (Gentlewoman)
Pauline Hanson
Madam, the Lady Christopher Pyne is come to visit you.
Joe Hockey
Please, give me leave to rest and retire.
Bronwyn Bishop
Indeed, you shall not.
I hear approaching your husband’s drum,
See him pluck Turnbull down by the hair,
As candy from a child, the Liberals shunning him:
I see him stamp thus, and call thus:
‘Come on, you cowards! you were got in fear,
though you were born in Canberra:’ his bloody brow
Wiped with his strong hand, forth he goes,
Like to a harvest-man that’s task’d to mow down
Anything that resembles a World Heritage Site
Or else lose his hire.
Joe Hockey
His bloody brow! O Jesus Christ, no blood!
Bronwyn Bishop
Away, you fool! it more becomes a man
Than show his trophy: the breasts of Penelope,
When she did suckle Alexander, look’d not lovelier
Than Alexander's forehead when it spit forth blood
At Grecian artillery, contemning. Tell Chistopher Pyne,
We are fit to bid his welcome.
Exit Pauline Hanson
Joe Hockey
Heavens bless my lord from fell Turnbull!
Bronwyn Bishop
He’ll beat Turnbull ‘head below his knee
And tread upon his neck.
Enter Christopher Pyne (friend of JOE Hockey), with Tony Smith (an Usher) and Pauline Hanson (Gentlewoman)
Chistopher Pyne
My ladies, G'day to you both.
Bronwyn Bishop
Sweet Pyne.
Joe Hockey
I am glad to see your Pyneship.
Chistopher Pyne
How do you both? You are manifest house-keepers.
What are you sewing here? A pair of speedos, in good
faith. How does your little son?
Joe Hockey
I thank your ladyship; well, good madam.
Bronwyn Bishop
He had rather see the guns, and hear a drum, than
look upon his teachers after Gonski.
Chistopher Pyne
O’ my word, the father’s son: I’ll swear,’tis a
very pretty boy. O’ my faith, I looked upon him on a
Wednesday some weeks ago: has such a
confirmed countenance. I saw him run after a gilded
butterfly: and when he caught it, he let it go
again; and after it again; and over and over he
comes, and again; caught it again; or whether his
fall enraged him, or how ’twas, he did so set his
teeth and tear it; O, I warrant it, how he stalked
it! And he kept calling out "Stop the butterflies!"
Bronwyn Bishop
One on his father’s moods.
Chistopher Pyne
Indeed, ’tis a noble child.
Joe Hockey
I would rest, madam.
Chistopher Pyne
Come, lay aside your stitchery; I must have you play
the idle househusband with me this afternoon.
Joe Hockey
No, good madam; I will not go out of doors.
Bronwyn Bishop
She shall, she shall.
Joe Hockey
Indeed, no, by your patience; I’ll not over the
threshold till my lord Hockey return from the wars.
I will wish her speedy strength, and visit her with
my prayers; but I cannot go thither.
Bronwyn Bishop
Why, I pray you?
Joe Hockey
’Tis not to save labor, nor that I want love.
No, good Pyne, pardon me; indeed, I will not forth.
Chistopher Pyne
Go with me; and I’ll tell you
excellent news of your husband.
Joe Hockey
O, good Pyne, there can be none yet.
Chistopher Pyne
In earnest, it’s true; I heard Rupert Murdock speak it.
Thus it is: the Liberals have an army forth; against
whom The Pope is gone, with one part of
our military power: your lord and John Howard are set
down before their electorate Abbott; they nothing doubt
prevailing and to make it brief wars. This is true,
on mine honor; and so, I pray, go with us.
Bronwyn Bishop
Let her alone, Pyne: as Joe is now, she will but
disease our better merriment.
Chistopher Pyne
In truth, I think she would. Fare you well, then.
Come, good sweet lady. Pray you, Joe Hockey, turn your
solemness out o’ door. and go along with us.
Joe Hockey
The short answer is no, Pyne; indeed, I must not. I wish
you much mirth.
Chistopher Pyne
Well, then, farewell.
Exit
SCENE IV. Before Abbott Town.
Enter, with drum and colors, Tony Hockey, John Howard, Captains and Soldiers. To them a Messenger
Tony Hockey
Here comes news. A wager they have met.
Howard
My beach house to yours, no.
Tony Hockey
’Tis done.
Howard
Agreed.
Tony Hockey
Say, has our general met the enemy?
Messenger
They lie in view; but have not spoke as yet.
Howard
So, the good house is mine.
Tony Hockey
I’ll buy him off you.
Howard
No, I’ll nor sell nor give him: lend you him I will
For half a hundred years like it was a port. Summon the town.
Tony Hockey
How far off lie these armies?
Messenger
Within this click and half.
Tony Hockey
Then shall we hear their alarm, and they ours.
Now, Mary mother of Jesus, I pray to you, make us quick in work,
That we with smoking guns may march from from here,
To help our fielded friends! Come, blow your load.
They sound a parley. Enter two Senators with others on the walls.
Malcolm Turnbull, is he within your walls?
Eric Abetz
No, nor a man that fears you more than he,
That’s more than a little.
Alarm afar off
Listen you lot. Over there!
There is Turnbull; regard, what devilry he makes
Amongst your divided army.
Tony Hockey
O, they are at it!
Howard
Their noise be our instruction. Ladders, ho!
Enter the Liberal backbenchers
Tony Hockey
They fear us not, so
Now put your riot shields before your hearts, and fight
With hearts more proof than shields. Advance,
brave John Howard:
They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts,
Which makes me sweat with wrath. Come on, my fellows:
He that retires I’ll take him for a boatperson,
And he shall feel mine lead.
Alarm. The Canberrans are beat back to their trenches. Re-enter Tony Hockey cursing
Tony Hockey
All the contagion of the south, pox on your house,
You shames of Canberra! you herd of—Boils and plagues
Plaster you over, that you may be abhorred
More than seen and one infect another
Against the wind a mile! You souls of women,
That bear the shapes of men, how have you run
From slaves that apes would beat! Hellfire and damnation!
All hurt behind; backs red, and derrière smacked
With flight and fevered fear! Stand and charge home,
Or, by the fires of heaven, I’ll leave the foe
And make my wars on you: look to it: come on;
If you’ll stand fast, we’ll beat them to their wives,
As they us if to our trenches followed.
Another alarm. The Liberals retreat, and Hockey follows them to the gates
So, now the gates are open: let us prove good support:
’Tis for the followers that fortune smiles,
Not for the fliers: mark me, and do the like.
Tony Hockey enters the gates
First Soldier
Fool-hardiness; not I.
Second Soldier
Nor I.
Tony Hockey is shut in
First Soldier
See, they have shut him in.
All
To the depths, I warrant him.
Alarm continues
Re-enter John Howard
Howard
What has become of Hockey?
All
Slain, sir, doubtless.
First Soldier
Following the fliers at the very heels,
He enters; and upon sudden closing
Clap of their gates: he is himself alone,
To answer all the city.
Howard
O noble fellow!
Who gaily outdares his guileless gun,
And, when his blood is spilled, stands up.
You have left, Hockey:
A wound entire, as big as you art.
You were a soldier,
Even to Bush's wish, not fierce and terrible
Only in strokes; but, with your grim looks and
The thunder-like percussion of your slogans,
You madst your enemies shake, as if the world
Were feverous and did tremble.
Re-enter Hockey, bleeding, assaulted by the enemy
First Soldier
Look, sir.
Howard
Ho, ’tis Hockey!
Let’s fetch him off, or make remain alike.
They fight, and all enter the city
SCENE V. Abbott. A street.
Enter certain Canberran Soldiers (Cory Bernardi, Ian Macdonald and Angus Taylor), with spoils
Cory Bernardi
This will I carry to Canberra.
Ian MacDonald
And I this.
Angus Tayler
A blight on it! I took this for silver.
Alarm continues far off
Enter Hockey and John Howard with a trumpet
Hockey
Watch these that do prize their hours as they
can shuffle them into pockets! Cushions, silver sporks,
Irons of the housewives of Australia, phones that any
other would bury with those that used them, these base minimum wage workers,
Before the fight be done, pack up: down with them!
Listen, what noise the Bull makes! To him!
There is the man of my soul’s hate, Turnbull,
Piercing our Canberrans: valiant Howard, take
Convenient numbers to make good the city;
Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will haste
To help The Pope.
Howard
Good sir, you bleed;
Your exercise has been too violent for
A second course of fight.
Hockey
Sir, praise me not;
My work has yet not warmed me nor mine speedos:
The blood I drop is rather distracting
Than dangerous to me: to Turnbull thus
I will appear, and fight.
Howard
Now the fair saint, Virgin Mary,
Fall deep in love with you; and her great charms
Misguide your opposers’ guns! Bold gentleman,
Prosperity be your page at every stage!
Exit Hockey
Go, sound your trumpet in the ABC;
Call thus all the officers of the town,
Where they shall know our platform: away!
Exit
SCENE VI. Near the camp of The Pope.
Enter The Pope, snatching out a smoko, with soldiers
The Pope
Breathe you, my friends: well fought;
we are come off Like Canberrans,
Neither foolish in our stands,
Nor cowardly in retire.
Who’s over there,
That does appear as he were flayed? O God
He has the stamp of Hockey; and I have
Before-times seen him thus.
Hockey
[Within] Come I too late?
The Pope
The choir knows not an alto from a tenor
More than I know the sound of Hockey’ tongue
From every meaner man.
Enter Hockey
Hockey
Come I too late?
The Pope
Ay, if you come not in the blood of others,
But mantled in your own.
Hockey
Oh, let me grasp ye
In arms as sound as when I woohoo’d, in heart
As merry as when my nuptial day was done,
With Joe Hockey, my husband!
The Pope
Flower of warriors,
How is it with John Howard?
Hockey
As with a man busied about decrees:
Condemning some to death, and some to the Tampa;
Ransoming him, or pitying, threatening the other;
Holding Abbott Town in the name of Canberra,
As a devilish dingo in the leash,
To let him slip at will.
The Pope
How did you survive?
Hockey
Will the time serve to tell? I do not think so.
Where is the enemy? Do you control the field?
If not, why stop you before you are so?
The Pope
Hockey,
We have at disadvantage fought and did
Retire to win our purpose.
Hockey
How lies their battle? know you on which side
They have placed their men of trust?
The Pope
As I guess, Hockey,
To the left are the Liberal frontbenchers,
Of their best trust; standing over them, Turnbull,
Their very heart of hope.
Hockey
I do implore you,
By all the battles wherein we have fought,
By the blood we have shed together, by the vows
We have made to endure friends, that you directly
Set me against Turnbull and his front;
And that you not delay the present, but,
Filling the air with guns advanced and bullets,
We prove this very hour.
The Pope
though I could wish
You were conducted to a gentle bath
And balms applied to, you, yet dare I never
Deny your asking: take your choice of those
That best can aid your action.
Hockey
Those are they
That most are willing. If any such be here—
As it were sin to doubt—that love this painting
Wherein you see me smeared; if any fear
Less his person than a wave of humanity;
If any think their life outweighs foreign death
And that his country’s dearer than himself;
Let him alone, or so many so minded,
Salute, to express his disposition,
And follow Hockey, the big, scary man.
They all shout "Stop the boats" and wave their guns, take him up in their arms, and cast up their arms in salute.
Exit
SCENE VIII. A field of battle.
Alarm as in battle. Enter, from opposite sides, Tony HOCKEY and Malcolm TURNBULL
Hockey
I’ll fight with none but you; for I do hate you
Worse than a marble table.
Turnbull
We hate alike:
There is no policy I abhor
More than your fame and envy. Fix your foot.
Hockey
Let the first budger die the other’s taxpayer,
And the Lord doom him after!
Turnbull
If I fly, Hockey,
Beat me like an Asylum Seeker.
Hockey
Within these three hours, Malcolm,
Alone I fought in your Abbott walls,
And made what work I pleased: ’tis not my blood
Wherein you see me mask’d; for your revenge
Wrench up your power to the highest.
Turnbull
Were you Robert Menzies
That was the whip of the accursed Labor party,
You should not escape me here.
They fight, and certain Liberals come to the aid of Turnbull. Hockey fights till they be driven back breathless
Exit
SCENE IX. The Canberran camp.
Flourish. Alarm. A retreat is sounded. Flourish. Enter, from one side, The Pope with the Canberrans; from the other side, Hockey, with his arm in a scarf. A long flourish. They all cry ‘Hockey! Hockey!’ cast up their caps and signs: The Pope and Howard stand bare.
Tony Hockey
May these same instruments, which you profane,
Sound no more! when drums and trumpets shall
In the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be
Made all of false-faced soothing!
No more, I say! For that I have not washed
My nose that bled, or deflowered some wretch.—
Which, is a man’s absolute right to demand,—
You shout me forth
In hyperbolical acclamations;
As if our duty should be dieted
With praises sauced in lies.
The Pope
Too modest are you;
Crueler to your good report than grateful to
Us that give it truly: by the Lord’s will,
If against yourself you be incensed, we’ll put you,
Like one that means his own harm, in straightjacket,
Then reason safely with you. Therefore, be it known,
As to us, to all the world, that Tony Hockey
Wears this war’s success. In token of which,
I give him my noble Volkswagen, known to the camp,
With all its trim deco; and from this time,
For what he did before Abbott Town, call him,
With all the applause and clamour you can summon,
the Warrior of Abbott Town! Bear
This addition nobly forevermore!
Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drums
All
Tony Abbott!
Tony Abbott
I will go wash;
And when my face is fair, you shall perceive
Whether I blush or no: howbeit, I thank you.
I mean to be your servant, and at all times
To undercrest your good addition
To the fairness of my power.
The Pope
So, to our tent;
Where, before we do rest, we will write
To Canberra of our success. You, John Howard,
Must stay and hold Abbott: send us to Canberra
With those whom we may articulate,
For their own good and ours.
Exit
SCENE X. The camp of the Liberals.
A flourish. Cornets. Enter Malcolm Turnbull, bloody, with two or three Soldiers
Turnbull
The town is taken!
First Soldier
’Twill be delivered back on good condition for we have developed a very particular set of skills. Skills we have acquired over a very long political career. Skills that make us a political nightmare for someone like Tony Hockey. If they let our city go soon that’ll be the end of it. We will not look for him, We will not find him, but if he doesn’t. We will look for him, We will find him and We will kill him.
Turnbull
Condition!
I would I were a Canberran; for it cannot,
Being a Liberal, be that I am. Condition!
What good condition can a treaty find
In the part that faces mercy? Five times, Hockey,
I have fought with you: so often have you beat me,
And would do so, I think, should we encounter
As often as we eat. By the Lord,
If ever again I meet him beard to beard,
He’s mine, or I am his: my survival
Has no longer that honor that it once had; for where
I thought to crush him in an equal force,
bullet for bullet, I’ll poach at him some way:
Wrath or craft may yet get him.
First Soldier
He’s the devil.
Turnbull
Bolder, though not so subtle.
My valor’s poisoned even only suffering his stain.
Neither sleep nor sanctuary,
Being naked, sick, or bereaved nor
The prayers of priests nor times of sacrifice,
Or maternal Furies shall lift up
Their rotten privilege and custom against
My hate to Hockey: where I find him, were it
At home, upon my brother’s guard, even there,
Against the laws of hospitality, would I
Wash my fierce hand in his heart. Go you to the city;
Learn how ’tis held.
Exit