Naturally,I had a hunch the M-thing was imminent. Dogs have a legendary ability to predict human behaviour. We know exactly what they’re going to do before they do it. If Trump had a dog,he’d be a much less scary prospect.
They are perfectly happy to use me on the campaign trail,but why wasn’t I in the official proposal selfie?AP
Anyway,it’s a huge relief someone finally accepted one of Albo’s “yes” propositions. But no doubt you noticed the happy couple forgot to include me in the official selfie? I do hope that little oversight is not a portent of unpleasant things to come.
Niggles aside,the nuptial news has put the icing on a 2024 cake already bulging with sugar hits. Stage 3 tax cuts – tick. IR reforms – tick. But the best thing was Barnaby Joyce getting defenestrated by a pot plant. Surely the sweetest victory of all for any small dog who’s ever been bullied by a large man with a red face. Pistol and Boo,I see you. Gone but not forgotten.
What the salivating media dullards haven’t worked out is that I was the one who played Cupid to Jodes and Albo. Hitherto,here on Planet Albo,I have been the sole supplier of doe-eyed adoring looks. But the emotional support thing wears a cavoodle down eventually. My needs are overlooked as he slaps on the red tie and heads off to fight Tories. I’m expected there at sparrow’s fart to see him off. And then it’s back-to-back double shifts for the greet and debrief after late night sittings.
Where are you,Sally McManus,when this blatant worker exploitation is going on? The “right to disconnect” doesn’t apply to companion animals,I’ve noticed. In the absence of legislative reform,I moved decisively.
Romance-wise the boss was a challenge. We are not talking Jacob Elordi here. Wrong side of 55. Wrong spectacles. Wrong brand of kibble,if his waistline is any guide. But it is a truth universally acknowledged that any bloke’s sex appeal is boosted by ownership of a small,fluffy dog,especially one with a high profile and a huge Twitter/X following.
So yes,I encouraged those first shy glances from behind the matching South Sydney scarves after Jodie first caught his attention with her rousing shout of “Up the Rabbitohs!” As killer come-ons go,it’s not “But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?” But it certainly lit a fire under Albo. From then on,all I had to do was push it along by providing discreet company and someone else to talk to when they ran out of animated conversation about the footie and the vital role of the union movement in nation-shaping etc,etc ...
You are probably asking:“Yes,but what’s in it for you now,Toto?” Very good question. Animal welfare advocates observe that new relationships are dangerous for companion animals. The only thing worse is the arrival of babies. I have noticed the two things can be lethally connected. Often we hear about devoted pets unceremoniously booted from bedroom to backyard when a new partner slides the slippers under the king-size. Many an ageing death-row mutt at the local refuge was once somebody’s darling,you know.
The happy moment.John Shakespeare
Anyhow,I’m confident they’ll be gagging to get me at the wedding. My crowd appeal has become a kick-arse staple of prime ministerial photo-ops. I will be holding out for a decent designer outfit. No bogan bows and tatty tiaras. I want my own media team. And I intend to show up with a couple of rescued racing greyhounds to make a point or two in front of those revolting,gambling-revenue-addicted premiers. (Bet they’ll rock up licking you know what like there’s no tomorrow.)
You see,I devouredMy Best Friend’s Wedding. I chewed throughSpare as well. I know that after the first flush of congratulations and general delirium,opportunity knocks for the vigilant,the spiteful and the well-connected. In that spirit,I adoredThe Killing Season and now I’m lapping upNemesis. Guess what? They missed the really juicy bits.
It may pay for them all to remember that nobody knows better than me exactly where all the bones are buried at The Lodge. There are plenty. I can locate every stinking remnant in moments. Everyone may be awash in feel-good hormones right now. But as Harry Truman famously said (to paraphrase) – if you’re in politics and you want a reliable friend,get a dog.
Or take excellent care of the one you already have.
Ghostwritten by Deborah Fleming,a Walkley Award-winning journalist,former executive producer of the7.30 Report andAustralian Story,and a rescue greyhound owner.