MirandaDevine.com

Peter Garrett

Many a genius has been forced to endure a lifetime of endless criticism, dagger eyes and janus faced backstabbing. Like Leo Tolstoy, Victor Hugo and the publishers at Harlequin Mills and Boon, I too have been forced to accept the fact that I will forever be reviled by those who are not as correct as me. Ugh.

Yet, along with my literary kin, I know that my name will endure. I, Miranda Esmerelda Diamond Agapantha Devine, will go down as one of the greats. The howling vegan lesbian wolves of the Left will sink into the ephemeral morass of forgotten humanity while I rise above the smelly heap. My command of grammar is second to none. My vocabulary is a beam of joyous guiding light, streaming from the heavens to the triumphant choralling of righteous angels.

I am a better driver than people in small vehicles.

I am.
Miranda Devine.

As we enter a brave new world of leftist backslapping, rising interest rates and the (slim) possibility that John Howard might lose an election, I must stand strong. I must continue my crusade against the environmentalists, the bureaucrats, vegetarian cus cus huggers and those who believe in social justice. I must continue to guide Middle Australia on Thursdays and Sundays with my words of wisdom.

But I know I cannot do this alone. I must surround myself with those of comparable genius. We must form a Circle of Power. A Fellowship of the Completely and Utterly Correct. One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them.

Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk, agh burzum-ishi krimpatul!

Oops. I went into a trance just then and started speaking Tolkien orcish black speech (as distinct from Aboriginal black speak, which is far more evil). It must be the gin talking. It does funny things when I inspire myself. GYAH! What am I doing!? That hideous Frodo was the queerest little postmodern bisexual leprechaun that fiction has ever produced! Ugh. Apologies, Middle Australia. I won’t let that happen again.

My Council of Power. Yes. It will be truly glorious. We will have some truly super wine tastings. I have already enlisted Gerard Henderson, Janet Albrechtsen, Michael Stanbridge of Bonnet Bay and most of Quadrant Magazine’s readership. We will flourish under the Eye of John Winston Howard. We will command a great army of Willie Masons to protect us.

Oh yes, that was the point of this article. Willie Mason. Why are people constantly vilifying him? He’s not all that bad, really. He’s like a big, oafish teddy bear. He visits kids in hospitals. He checks under his bed every night to make sure there’s no alligators or monsters. I don’t see why that’s any kind of problem - I check under my bed every night to make sure there’s no peace activists or Sri Lankan boatpeople hiding under there - don’t you idiots remember the Reds Under The Bed!? They’re still there, Middle Australia. Actually, that was a total lie. the real reason I check under the bed is because, for the life of me, I simply can’t remember where I stashed that last bottle of Pimms. Perhaps the dirty boatpeople drank it. They all become alcoholics when they get here, anyway.

That’s enough about Willie Mason. Back to me, and my plan. Willie Mason will be cloned and make up our army of spawned grunts providing the muscle to do battle with the students wearing tie-dyed shirts. I will carry the flame. I will take the good fight all the way to the fires of Mt Doom. And I will not let that bald and raving leftist, Peter “Gollum” Garrett ruin the party! Cucumber sandwiches for all!!!

Toodles!
xx Miranda