YES

YOU LOOK LIKE A LUNATIC

YES

INTERVIEWER

Good morning spokesperson for an opposition party. Thank you for talking to us.

SPOKESPERSON

Thank you. It’s good to be here.

INTERVIEWER

Is it?

SPOKESPERSON

Probably not.

INTERVIEWER

Why are you here, then?

SPOKESPERSON

Because I have to defend my position.

INTERVIEWER

Which is what exactly?

SPOKESPERSON

Where are you from? Do you live here?

INTERVIEWER

Yes, I was born here.

SPOKESPERSON

Well, that may well be the case, but it’s not my position.

INTERVIEWER

I’m sorry?

SPOKESPERSON

I’m not sorry. However, that is not why I’m here today.

INTERVIEWER

So, why are you here?

SPOKESPERSON

To stand in opposition.

INTERVIEWER

But you are already in opposition.

SPOKESPERSON

Well, that’s just typical of the media to shape the narrative like that. I’m not the villain here, and I won’t stand for that kind of slander being smeared against me or any member of my party, for that matter. All the people I have spoken to have agreed with me, and many, many other people, I might add, about this matter and quite frankly, I’m over it. It’s not fair, and I’m not even from here. It’s appalling how people not from here are treated.  

INTERVIEWER

Like the children overboard?

SPOKESPERSON

That may well be appropriate in this matter.

INTERVIEWER

Are you comparing yourself to a refugee child?

SPOKESPERSON

In my view, that is not my position.

INTERVIEWER

Sounds like you want it both ways.

SPOKESPERSON

Well, you may well say that. However, that’s a party matter for the party to decide in the party room. And I won’t be discussing the party position decision now until the party has decided it’s position because, ultimately, it’s for the people to decide, not Canberra.

INTERVIEWER

That doesn’t make sense.

SPOKESPERSON

Well, if you have been talking to the people on the ground where it matters, the real fair dinkum mums and dads, boys and girls like me, who are people doing it tough on the ground right here where it matters, and if you have seen the rampant crime taking place in the homes of real everyday  Australians every day as I have, then you would understand why I won’t be supporting anything they want.

INTERVIEWER

Are you saying that you have witnessed crimes being committed? Did you report them to the police?

SPOKESPERSON

I don’t hold the handcuffs, do I? Well, do I? Anyway, I assume people are being arrested, and I resent your accusatory tone.

INTERVIEWER

Will you allow a conscious vote?

SPOKESPERSON

Why?

INTERVIEWER

Why not?

SPOKESPERSON

Because we are united.

INTERVIEWER

So, what is your party position?

SPOKESPERSON

Remarkably similar to theirs, actually. But with one condition.

INTERVIEWER

Which is?

SPOKESPERSON

It’s not forever.

INTERVIEWER

Then what’s the point?

SPOKESPERSON

So, we can change it later.

INTERVIEWER

Why?

SPOKESPERSON

That’s irrelevant.

INTERVIEWER

You’re irrelevant.

SPOKESPERSON

Wait, what?

INTERVIEWER

Do you need those glasses?

SPOKESPERSON

Not in my view.

INTERVIEWER

Thank you for your time today.

SPOKESPERSON

No, thank you.

YOU LOOK LIKE A LUNATIC

Colin grimaced through the slender gap between the curtains of his lounge window at the two tradies next door. They were at the framing stage of the home build. Each thwack of their nail guns caused Colin’s top left eyelid to twitch, and the rapid-fire reverberation from the air compressor triggered the left side of his top lip to quiver into a snarl, which in turn forced a squeeze of air to squeak from his throat like the sound of an air being released from the pinched neck of a balloon.

Colin was convinced that his reactions to the sounds of the tradies had given him at least two or three new creases on his already crinkled face. What made matters worse was the builders’ portable stereo that blasted out non-stop commercial pop music from the 80’s, not to mention their nonsensical banter about football and chicks. He didn’t like the music then, and its regurgitation into the present world sent him into a confounding spin of the injustice of the space-time continuum. None of this makes sense, thought Colin; why do these relatively young people listen to this hideous music through the din of construction, and why should I have to listen to this cataclysmic marriage of noise?

            ‘Get away from the window. You look like a lunatic,’ said Colin’s wife.

            Colin’s eye’s searched for the location of his wife’s voice, but he couldn’t turn his focus from the calamity outside. His inner voice pursued the train of thought; they got a building permit but not a concert permit, and why didn’t the council do something about it? Perhaps I need to take matters into my own hands and create a black hole to swallow them up. The pneumatic drive of the air compressor ripped its machine gun sound waves which contorted Colin’s face as if tasered by 50,000 volts. He collapsed to the floor, wounded by the blast. He was under attack, and thoughts turned to vengeance.

            ‘Hand me my phone,’ said Colin to his wife, arm outstretched.

            ‘It’s right in front of you. I’m going out with my friends. And put some clothes on,’ Colin’s wife said.

            Colin snatched at his phone and searched for local Bluetooth devices. There it was, Davo’s Portable Extreme Base. Gleaming with revenge, Colin joined his phone too, Davo’s Portable Extreme Base. The familiar chime of a successful connection rang out, ‘I’ve got you now,’ said Colin, tuning into his favourite classical music station. The musical prowess of Wagner superseded the grating 80’s pop music blaring out from the building site. Colin closed his eyes and let out a sigh.

             Davo and his tradie mate dropped their nail guns and ran to the stereo like it was an abandoned baby. They scratched their heads, fingered their mullets and fondled their balls while muttering to each other. Davo’s mate said, ‘You bloody ripper,’ before turning off Davo’s Portable Extreme Base.

            Davo ran to his Ute and cranked up its stereo. 80’s synth-pop pierced Colin’s ears.

            ‘Have a look at this bloke,’ said Davo, pointing at Colin at the lounge window, naked, yelling words unheard.