I wrote this blog the morning after Tony Abbott was elected as Australia’s PM last September. If I’d known how grim it was to get, I’d have packed my bags for the Hutt River Province then and there.
From Abbott rut to the State of Hutt
5 million+ Australian Labor voters awoke today with a bone-crushingly retrograde hangover thanks to a night drowning in embalming fluid followed by salt rubbed in the wounds and a squirt of lemon in the eye, otherwise known in the bar trade as a Lib Sip Sucks.
Forlorn and disenfranchised, lefties have since been posting and tweeting in droves from their sick beds, simultaneously petitioning against Murdoch and renouncing their citizenship (oh, the delicious irony) while entertaining migration to more progressive co-ordinates such as Middle Earth. And yes, I’ve been one of them.
But really … where to now that we’ve been hoisted by our own retards? How do we exit stage right without abandoning what’s left of a country we still love?
The answer, comrades, is both home AND away.
Australia’s Principality of Hutt River, 517kms north of Perth, was recognised as…
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