The Liberal Party’s man of God and the people, Tony Abbott, has blessed Australia with his memoirs. Here, Walter Slurry, the man behind Not the Costello Memoirs brings us the forgotten chapters. Here are some choice extracts:

On Work Choices…

As someone frequently considered “too Catholic” on abortion and as a believer in floppy eared dogmatism, the accusation of being “not Catholic enough” on workplace justice was somewhat galling, especially since the Government’s aim was to drive unemployment down and wages up. Not surprisingly, I projectile vomit when I hear such accusations. It wouldn’t be imprudent to say my pants fill with my own disposable matter when the moral kudos of  the Howard Government’s objectives are questioned.

On Julia…

The truth is, I hold Ms Gillard in the highest esteem. There is no question Julia Gillard is Labor’s most competent parliamentary performer: she has a rapier wit, clever repartee, humorous banter and a terrific set of jugs.

Whilst I admit to a certain unbridled admiration for Ms Gillard, I am repelled by the left wing chattering media bunkum inferring that my interest is something other than professional and respectful. I blame the effects of Viagra for this scuttlebutt.

On politics and Pell…

I am not the first pious politician in Australia, and I certainly won’t be the last commentator to be troubled by the relationship of church and state. My relationship with Cardinal George Pell, the Catholic Archbishop of Sydney, which I will explore later (See Chapter 5, For Whom The Pell Tolls) is one that is often raised by my critics (see pages 145-567). And indeed the ABC, our esteemed and secular national broadcaster, has accused me of putting words into the Cardinal’s mouth. I can assure the ABC that it wasn’t my words that he swallowed.

On politics and religion…

My views on abortion, RU 486, stem cell research and drugs are not borne solely from my faith – in truth, I just hate these people and their faithless empty vacuous lives. That’s why they vote Labor or Green, because they are soulless atheists. My compensation is knowing a giant rotisserie awaits them.

There are several key points regarding politics and religion. First: politicians who are Christians, we are not robots, we are not programmed by the Bible, or dictated to by bishops. If I was a robot surely they would not have put such a ludicrous face on me and made such a botched job of my wiring?  Would someone really make a robot replete with floppy-eared madness and itchy testicles? I rest my case.

On religion as a bipartisan issue…

Politics is a rough and tumble business (See Chapter 16: Christopher Pyne Enjoys a Rough and Tumble Business). There are Christians in all political parties. No one side has a monopoly on virtue or faith, and my side of politics doesn’t even have a duopoly. I know that my friend and colleague Kevin Rudd is a Christian – except when he’s abusing his staff, berating an adviser, tearing strips off a departmental manager or talking to Greg Combet.

On the burden of Christianity…

A Christian life means constantly striving – and constantly failing – to be more like Jesus. I see myself more as Jezebel. To me, my burden means giving other conservatives the benefit of the doubt; seeing the good in opponents; hiding one’s own light under a bushel, or other matter under there; forgiving people not once but seven times seventy; and being ambitious for the higher things rather than the higher office. Although ambition for the higher office should not be discounted. I have pimple skills and believe I have a lot to offer the Liberal Party [See Appendix A: Curriculum Vitae, Page 563, Paragraph 4].

On boat people…

As a local MP, I am regularly challenged over the Government’s policy on the detention of boat people. “How can you live with yourself as a Catholic”, the argument runs, “when your government treats women and children with such cruelty?”

First off, these people are not Christian – we fly business class; and second, they were not treated cruelly. You may recall Jesus Christ himself was bound in razor wire and that did him no end of good in the long run.

To read Walter Slurry’s account in full, grab a cup of tea, put on your slippers (ignore your workmates, they’re just jealous and probably heathens) and head here for a read.

Peter Fray

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