With Federal Labor still reeling from The Latham Diaries, Michael Pascoe stumbles across some pages of the yet-to-be-released Bob Carr Diaries:
July 24, 2005: Oh my Self, what a simply stupendous Sydney Sunday. I said to Helena, Helena, I said, what a simply stupendous Sydney Sunday. The sun reflecting off acres of harbour front picture windows, glistening across azure waters bedecked in countless millions of dollars worth of pleasure craft on their moorings. All that wealth and real estate owned by people with absolutely no taste. Helena, I said, Helena, it’s time to collect our share!
Nothing hasty now, nothing hasty. The American Civil War wasn’t carpetbagged in a day. Colonel Archibald Belvedere Boglee the Third didn’t corner the hog belly market by just waking up one morning and thinking, what a simply stupendous Southern Sunday.
I said to Helena, Helena, years of planning, plotting and politics have gone into this. Years. We haven’t suffered the great unwashed and aesthetically challenged proletariat for so long for nothing.
Of course you don’t just go willy-nilly into toll road futures – or shopping centre development for that matter. No. First we rooted the trains to give the pig ignorant masses no choice but to drive their disgusting little Holdens and Hyundais, then we sell off the public roads, build in inflation-beating returns, and Bob’s your uncle. And they had better not forget it.
Helena, I said, Helena, bugger Macquarie Street, I’m off to Macquarie Bank.
July 27, 2005: Well that’s done and what a pleasure. Flick this mess over to Fast Eddie Obeid and Smokin’ Joe Tripodi. They’re welcome to it. Helena, I said, Helena, Obeid and Tripodi: if anyone knows how to squeeze another few rorts out of a rooted state, the Terrigals do. Wouldn’t know the Golden Proportion from a branch stacking of course, but what the hell. Swine before swine.
I feel rather like General Zachary Methuselah Zachary after listening to the Gettysburg Address – it’s a simply stupendous thing to have the coffin contract for the Union Army in your back pocket.
October 11, 2005: Laugh? I haven’t relished such intellectual pleasure since I kept a straight face while telling Harto he was wasted in tabloid journalism. Macquarie Bank finally made the announcement while I’m enjoying an archaeological dig for them in China. I said to Helena, Helena, the dogs bark and the caravan moves on.
The big question, though, is still awaiting my considered attention: Which of the inner eastern suburbs deserves me? The urban blight that is Maroubra has been such an assault on my senses all these long suffering years, time and again I’ve had to just concentrate on the inspiration of Senator Barnabas Spectrum Thalidomide when things were not going well for the North – the blue dye concession was such a comfort.
October 12, 2005: Well that’s enough slumming it with the peasants. The storm in the Macquarie tea cup will have blown over by now. I see Harto’s been reading Crikey and sooled his hacks onto the Lane Cove tunnel road closures. None of it has had anything to do with me, of course. I was bush walking when anything like that was signed.
I said to Helena, Helena, I said, ring for a porter, will you? Time to get back to Sydney. I think I’m due for another good long chat with Frank Lowy about soccer. Nothing I like more than to just kick back, take some time out of a busy schedule and talk to Frank. About soccer.