Eric Abetz* writes: Good morning, my fellow Australians and heathens. I understand there has been some fuss about my description of the distinguished American judge Clarence Thomas as a “negro” — concerning a matter to which his race is irrelevant, and using a term which is archaic at best, and racist at worst — and some allegations that I am insensitive with regard to the modern world.

Nothing could be further from the truth. I am a well-travelled man who has spent long sojourns in the land of the [potentially offensive term deleted], the [clearly offensive term deleted] and the [1920s music-hall term deleted]. I count among my friends many [deleted], [deleted] and [subs note to ed: what even is this one? It sounds like a bizarre sex move. Deleted? Deleted].

Some might think that, with gratuitous descriptions of people as “negroes” I am a backwoods Taswegian happy-clappy who just came down from the hills a few years back, borrowed a pair of shoes and went to the Senate, and that my references to my fellow citizens and sodomites in our brave multicultural land as [deleted], [deleted] and [if we use this term, someone will burn the building down] are typical of a dimwitted people.

Nothing could be further from the truth. Tasmanians are not dimwitted. In fact, I represent that most maligned of marginalised people everywhere: boneheads who have made their way to the heights of power and influence. Every morning I tune into channel 0 for the news, check the telex for fresh information on Ceylon and Formosa and line up my adult children for good grooming inspection.

There are many hundreds of thousands of people like me across the country. Holiday timeshare investors, Quadrant readers, halal obsessives, people who voluntarily watch Australian movies, those who hope that nice Mr Alan Jones finds a wife eventually, those with the facial expression of Peter Dutton, T3 buyers … the list is endless.

Do we not deserve representation as much as [deleted], [deleted] and [I resign]? Not only will we not be silenced, we will usually leave the lapel mic on while we confess that we are being instructed in our actions by a talking dog. I will be there for you, my people, unless and until I am got by the [deleted].

Now, please enjoy this banjo music.

*not really

Peter Fray

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Peter Fray
Editor-in-chief of Crikey

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