Yes Minister

It was 2 in the afternoon. Rather than take lunch I said, 'Look John, I'm about as far along as I can be here. Is there anything else I can do?' Secretly hoping for the afternoon off.
"Oh, you can clean up the outside area at our place. We're having the Minister to tea." Fair enough. This'll be a first.

I began to think back to my experience with members of Parliament to date. I remember Simon Crean coming to primary school one day and giving out some awards. Lauren got one. That means handshake-and-a-photo-by-assosication for me. Then I rememeber being part of an angry mob that harrassed Inga Peulic when the Kennett government was shutting down schools for sport. Lauren's fault again. I never realised just how politically active Lauren was. All before the age of 14.

So Dad worked for Kennett for a while. I saw Steve Bracks once. I even went to Canberra - learnt that lesson the hard way. But as far as my own members of Parliament go, I wouldn't know them if they threw their chardonnay in my breakfast. (Note for later - have chardonnay for breakfast) So having a federal member of parliament and her ministerial advisor over for a casual barbeque seemed odd at first - like sushi, short pants and drinking your own urine to avoid dehydration... at once.

Come nightfall I was sitting outside with a glass of wine, struggling to make conversation with our guest for the weekend, Vincent the French backpacker. John met him in Darwin somewhere. Conflicted, as always, with my detest of backpackers, my love of France, intolerence of hospitality workers that take themselves too serious, and deep-seated need to be loved by everyone I plodded through pleasantries and tried to figure out what, other than John (and perhaps an aeroplane), brought him to Maningrida. Marion and 'Chips' arrived before I got anywhere and for the rest of the night France would make like Marcel Marceau and shut the fuck up. I felt sorry for him. He was right to feel a little intimidated - even though his English was flawless.

Marion Scrymgour is the federal member for somewhere (Google it yourself - this isn't fucking Wikipedia). An Aboriginal lady from the Tiwi Islands - somewhere around the Gulf - she started off slowly. Her advisor 'Chips' - real name uncertain, possibilities; Crispen, Smith, or Samboy - really got the ball rolling and dropped the C-bomb very early in the dinner converstation. I relaxed. I was at home. These people spoke my fucking language.

The conversation quickly moved to politics and they told us stories about people - hundreds of people - who's names I've never heard before. Still it was strangely engaging - the inside scoop. Chips is a white guy who seems to have grown up in communities one way or another. There's hardly a job in the media or ministery he hasn't kept down at one stage or another. Straight forwawrd guy. You can tell he and Marion have been working together a while - and working together well - because they talk over eachother. ('No darling, it's not disrespect, it's love!')

There are accusations and an awaiting trial in Maningrida. A sexual assult of a 12 year old boy by 10 men (some only 13 or 14 themselves) in the community. I don't know anything about it. Only that the national media have caught wind of it and it promises hasty, reactionary response from the MPs that count. Chips gave us the low down on spin-doctoring - the Health Board would be dealing with most of the media attention. I pondered a career in politics. Then I pondered eating my own body weight in bocconcini.

I make the whole evening sound heavier than it was. Most of it was fun and games, laughter and slander. John and Jenny kept it on the high-brow in respect for our guests, but I was on fire. 'I met Amanda Vanstone's Husband.' told Marion. 'He is a lovely man. Really delightful. And brilliant too. He just thinks she's the bees knees. I can't imagine why he spends his time following her around!?'
"He probably just enjoys the shade."

The evening over I retired. Marion and Chips will probably always be that - just Marion and Chips. Two folks at dinner. It's one thing I lament that you don't get in a big ctiy - who knows what my representative is like? But I guess up here, when you represent 4000 people, in a four year term you probably WILL meet everyone eventually... even a few people who you don't represent who are just happy that you're doing an admirable job. Vote Samboy.