He got that one right!

 

With the Australian Federal Election looming on 2 July 2016, an old priest who had served the people of the nation's capital for many years, lay dying in Canberra's Woden Hospital.

He motioned for the nurse to come near.

"Yes, father?" said the nurse.

"I would really like to see Malcolm Turnbull and Bill Shorten before I die", whispered the priest.

"I will see what I can do", said the nurse.

The nurse sent the request to Parliament House. Soon an answer came back. Both Malcolm Turnbull and Bill Shorten would be delighted to visit the priest.

As they were driven to the hospital in Malcolm's new BMW, Turnbull said to Shorten, "I don't know why this old priest wants to see us, but it certainly will help our images and may even help our re-election prospects."

Shorten agreed it was probably a good thing.

When they arrived at the priest's room, the priest took Turnbull's hand in his right hand and Shorten's hand in his left hand.

There was silence and a look of serenity on the old priest's face.

Finally, Shorten spoke, "Father, of all people you could have chosen, why did you chose us to be with you at this time when your end is so near?"

The old priest slowly replied, "I have always tried to pattern my life and behaviour after our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ."

"Amen", said Turnbull.

"Amen", replied Shorten.

The old priest continued, "Jesus Christ our Saviour died between two lying, thieving bastards, and I wanted to do the same."

Now it's your turn to cast your vote!

 

COMMITTEE: A body that keeps minutes and wastes hours.

The men who made millions from the global economic meltdown

 

Just came back from the Bay where I lashed out on the new-release DVD The Big Short which is based on the unbelievable true story and best-selling book by Michael Lewis.

When the crash of the U.S. stock market became public knowledge in the fall of 2008, it was already old news. The real crash, the silent crash, had taken place over the previous year, in bizarre feeder markets where the sun doesn’t shine and the SEC doesn’t dare, or bother, to tread. Who understood the risk inherent in the assumption of ever-rising real estate prices, a risk compounded daily by the creation of those arcane, artificial securities loosely based on piles of doubtful mortgages?

This movie tells the story of four outsiders in the world of high-finance who predicted the credit and housing bubble collapse before anyone else and risked all to take down the banks.

 

EGOTIST: Someone who is usually me-deep in conversation.

I've gone nuclear

 

It all started innocently enough: I needed a new referral from a GP for my dermatologist who's keeping an eye on my melanomas (I guess that's how they keep each other in business).

The GP, who's from Sri Lanka (we send them development aid; they send us their doctors), asked, "When did you last have a check-up?"

Check-up?", I replied, "I guess they weighed me when I was born." (Germans are not only worldleaders when it comes to building cars and running trains on time but also when it comes to being funny because we take our humour very seriously).

After much thigh-slapping and laughing (I laughed so hard the tears ran down my legs), the GP prescribed a battery of blood tests and, being on a roll (or a commission), added an ECG (or 'electro-cardiogram' to those who suffer from acronyphobia).

I've just come back from a Myocardial Perfusion Study carried out at the Southern Nuclear Imaging Group and I'm still glowing after they injected me with some sort of radioactive substance. Couldn't quite see the label on the vial as the nurse (aka Nuclear Medicine Technol-ogist) was holding it upside down but I think it read: 'lʎqouɹǝɥƆ'.

She assured me that this dose of radiation was the same as the one I would receive during two return flights between Sydney and London. Difficult to compare as the last time I sat in the pointy end of a QF1-flight to London, they plied me with so much free booze I glowed in the dark with or without radiation.

Then she strapped my arms above the head and shoved me into a tunnel for twenty minutes while some sort of camera-stuff whirred and rotated above and around me. And that was just for starters to tell them what my heart looks like at rest!

Pity but my nuclear medicine technologist didn't look that good! ☺

This coming Thursday they'll put me on an exercise bike to simulate the Tour de France and just when I think I've won the yellow jersey, they'll inject me again (I can already feel my trypanophobia kicking in again) and shove me back into the tunnel to find out what my heart looks like under stress (hadn't I told them that I was a married man and already under stress?)

Anyway, my heart should be as good as new because as an accountant I hardly ever used it! ☺

 

It's all Greek to me

 

On a cool and grey autumn morning like this I need to kickstart myself with some Greek music which makes me immediately think back to my two years in Greece.

Why did I ever leave? Was it a misdiagnosed case of homesickness or was it just that I had had enough of working for a fickle Arab boss?

Did I regret having chucked in an almost perfect job? Of course, I did; but then 'Impetuousness' has been my middle name ever since I chucked in an equally perfect job in Burma ten years earlier.

People keep saying, "Have no regrets!" Edith Piaf made a whole song-and-dance act out of it - click here.

For my part, I have plenty of regrets because I have lived a very full life. If you have no regrets from the life you have lived, your biggest regret should be the life you haven't lived.

 

And the winner is ...

 

Recently there was an amateur art contest in the Netherlands and people were invited to create a work of art depicting the current era of multiculturalism in Europe.

This was the winner!

What's the saying? A picture is worth a thousand words?

And here's some forthright commentary: click here.