MirandaDevine.com

Stephen Hawking in full flight.

I awoke this morning to the absolutely glorious news that they decided to launch that raging scientific know-it-all, Stephen Hawking, into space. I was extremely pleased because with him out of the way, I could finally take my rightful position as the world’s leading authority on gravity and black holes.

That’s correct, glorious denizens of Middle Australia, my mathematics degree allows me to derive all scientific knowledge from first principles to at least 3 significant figures. But I don’t understand why they’d pay some demented, knobbled old cabbage (in the vegetative sense of the word) like Hawking a truckload of cash to act the goat in the glorious Isaac Newton’s former position. Why didn’t they give me the position? I am appalled at how they give professors “chairs” at universities. Not only does it encourage the spawning of leftist backslapping Peter “Gollum” Garrett-intellectual types, but the odious Hawking spends all of his time in his own chair and it’s not like he can just stand up, walk around the room and go sit in another one. Hawking’s chair, I should also add, has the added benefit of having wheels on it. Honestly, those leftist intellectual bureaucrats should give the chair to someone like me, who spends plenty of time actually walking around, not lazing around like a shrivelled potato ranting about alien life through a postmodern mechanical noisebox device! I would, of course, provide a thoroughly pragmatic and realistic view of the world, as I always do.

Ugh. A hideous, odeous creature. Somebody hit him with a tennis racquet and watch him turn into scientific spaghetti.

I don’t know what all the scientists are getting their knickers in knots about about the so-called “Great Unknown”. I am expert on black holes. Why, right here in glorious Middle Sydney we have our own Black Hole - it’s called Redfern. And why is there a kerfuffel about how these black holes are created? The answer is simple, Middle Australia. Black Holes are created by irresponsible, overly-compassionate Labor Governments throwing dole money at bludgers who spend it on grog, tie-dyed t-shirts and building youth outreach centres!

Black Holes are a problem and should be banned. Hmmph. Not under this bland, nancyboy state government they won’t.

Anti-Gravity? I can explain that too. Ever farted in a bath, Middle Australia? Why don’t the bubbles sink? The answer is simple: anti-gravity. Duh. It also explains why leftists spend so much time with their heads in the clouds.

But as they launched Hawking, that smartie-pants, corpse-like, rubber-chicken-with-a-big-brain-attached into space, I was dismayed to discover that what goes up, must come down. To my disappointment, he was returned a mere few hours later. Apparently it was just a practice run before they toss him up in the air next year with the delicious (hubba hubba, but slightly too pinko for me) Richard Branson and his Virgin Intergalactic Space Mission of Glory.

But all this space travel gobbledygook caused my cerebral cogs of Devine genius to whiz and whir and formulate an infallible plan. I will be presenting my ideas to the (Glorious) Fellowship of the Completely and Utterly Correct (which, might I add, was incorporated in the Cayman Islands last week, so Gerard Henderson and I are enjoying some glorious tax breaks) at the next wine and cheese & world-takeover meeting. My plan is as follows:

The (Glorious) Fellowship of the Completely and Utterly Correct will lease a spaceship from Richard Branson, funded by the Liberal Party’s defense budget and Rupert Murdoch. We will then, sneakily, offer a free ride into outer space to all lesbians, Queenslanders, vegans, cyclists, queer sausagedogs, lephrechauns, midgets, students, boat people, Paul Keating, members of the Labor Party, volunteers at Barnardos for Kids, Sandra K Eckersley from Marrickville, Peter “Gollum” Garrett and anyone who disagrees with me. It won’t put even the smallest dent in their dole cheque.

But this will be no Stephen Hawking joy ride. It will be destination Planet Zod, with no possibility of return! Hah!

Middle Australia, stick with me and we will take out the garbage, intergalactic style! Glorious Middle Australia will be rid of the toe-sucking scum of society, while those hideous sympathy-peddling creatures of shame can get Naked on Neptune, Pinko on Pluto, and Communist with the Comets!

Toodles!
xx Miranda