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From Down Under: I told Bush to his face, I did

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Satire of this. Which should be read before reading this account by evil neocon fascist writer who must be ignored for his flagrant regard for the facts.

HUGE BREAKING MASSIVE INSIDE SCOOP POLITICAL STORY By a political correspondent somewhere gunning for the Man Booker Literature Award.

It was 10.40pm on a mild, temperate evening. The harbour water sparkled with reflections of Sydney's capitalism. Kevin Rudd was entertaining guests at Kirribilli House. It was just like any other social gathering. The chink of wine glasses. Polite, erudite conversation. Occasional bursts of civilised laughter. Cate Blanchett would smile that illuminating smile as Rudd regaled them with stories of the gloriously successful 2020 summit only months earlier. Kevin would blush at her solicitude. It was just like any other gathering.

Only at this one, their quaffing was to be interrupted by an event which would shake Australian politics to the core.

Rudd's aide approached hesitantly, almost furtively, with the news. There was a phone call. It was George. The guests tried not to fuss, but the sudden hush gave away their tension. Kevin stood, erect. Purposeful. It was George. That
George. "Excuse me" he said, with a knowing nod in the direction of Hugh Jackman. "I need to take this call". With a swift tug to uncrease his rented suit, he strode off in the direction of his study.

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The most powerful man in the world was lost in the messages on hold. Kevin picked up, hit the speakerphone and fired a firm but polite instruction to his aide: "Take notes". He caught the PCOTY halfway through humming the jingle.

Very, very extremely highly informed sources very close to the real sources, smuggled out of Kirribilli against the wishes of a humble Rudd who clearly seeks no attention for himself, have confirmed it. This was the conversation which took place:

"Gud-day" said GWB,attempting the traditional Aussie greeting. Kevin winced. "I just rang to talk about this economic summit we got..."

"Damn it George" Kevin blasted, politely but firmly. "You know how I feel. G7 just won't cut it..."

"...but Kevin..."

"Don't 'but Kevin' me, George. You know damn
well we need China. I love Europe as much as anyone, who doesn't. But they don't have the stones to deal with Asia Pacific financial matters. For starters, everything in Europe is really close together, so transport is cheaper than here. I know. I've been there. I was there last month".

He was right. He had. And the month before that. And the month before that, twice in July, and once in June in between Canada and the US with a stopover in Dubai (where he met the Maktoums). He repeated. "We need China, and you know it." He was firm, but polite.

"...but Kevin.."

"Damn it George" he said again, slamming his hand on the mahogany, which made his aides jump. "We're in a dangerous new phase and all you want to do is pander to your Euro friends. We need China. We need South America, and those fine, progressive Arab states. Hell, if you don't want to talk to China, I will. I speak Mandarin, you know..."

He was right. He did. GWB wouldn't hint at it, but Kevin knew he was impressed. He must have been. Wen Jiabao certainly was, when Kevin conversed casually at the Olympic Games. Sure, Kevin was speaking of the inherent failures of capitalism and the benefits of a planned economy, but it was his fluency in Mandarin which really impressed the Chinese Premier.

"...but Kevin..." again, and again the Prime Minister stood tall. "You know we have to go G20 George, it's the only way." He waited. The pause grew longer. Kevin, and his aides, could hear GWB's breathing labour on the other end of the phone. Slowly, Kevin was flooded by a shocking realisation, his countenance changing as if he'd just seen a drop in the polls.

"George....?" Kevin said politely but firmly. "George? Don't tell me...you don't even know what the G20 is,
do you?" The response was silence. "Good God" said Kevin, glancing at his aides and shaking his head discreetly. There was fire in his eyes now.

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There was a muffled response. Another realisation, almost as shocking. "George..." said Kevin, firmly but politely, as a parent counseling a guilty child. "George...are you holding the phone the wrong way up?"

Shuffling and scratching sounds at the other end. "Of course not, Kevin. I know how to hold a dang phone". The Texan accent was beginning to irk Kevin. "Fool" he said under his breath so that only his aides could hear. But he didn't care if Washington heard it too. He was past worrying. There was a worldwide economy to centralise and plan. The puppy love cravings of an outgoing American president were the least of his problems.

"I've spoken to them all, George. Get with it. Taro, Bambang, Angie. They all agree with me. What about you George? What's it gonna be?".

As one aide leaked to me later, totally against the wishes of the humble PM who desires no attention for the matter "He was like a bull terrier- polite, but firm. He stood up to the most powerful man in the world, made him look deep inside himself and question his manhood. Kevin exposed this supposed world power broker for the bumbling, uneducated buffoon that he is and in doing so became a real, credible, world political player himself. I can't imagine John Howard ever talking to Bush like that. Howard was a puppy dog. Kevin's a...um..terrier. It was inspirational. It was damn near sensual..."

It's history now. Within two days of this conversation GWB had caved, defeated, deflated, and called a G20 summit for Washington, just as Kevin had urged, so politely yet so firmly.

But for now, it was all about K. Rudd. To the rapturous applause of his assembled aides, some choking back tears, Kevin Rudd, erect, proud, strode back to his guests on Kirribilli's lawns, lawns bearing the scars from years of global warming. They too stood and applauded, barely able to quantify the feeling of being in the presence of sheer political will. Kevin smiled, raised his hand. "The Flirtinis are on me."

This time, it was Cate Blanchett who blushed.


/OFF: I would like to apologise for our narcissistic, bragging, self-obsessed Prime Minister and hope against hope that when he visits Washington next month Bush's aides either give him the salute that he so deserves, or completely ignore him, or pretend to have forgotten his name. Or perhaps they won't have to pretend. Again, were really sorry.

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Most enlightening Comrade Beelzebob. But it seems to me that the significant issue is that your Comrade Rudd made a fool of the Evil Bush, regardless of alleged facts on the ground. For instance, so what if there is evidence the Bush knew what the G20 was last month, even if he wrote an editorial to the NY Post about the birth, growtg, and importance of the G20 last week, with a weak mind like his it is not hard to sell the story that today he had no knowledge of the G20. We must brand the man a fool no matter the facts. Facts just give a good progressive a headache. We don't need facts to run the World of Next Tuesday™.

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Marshal Pupovich wrote:it seems to me that the significant issue is that your Comrade Rudd made a fool of the Evil Bush, regardless of alleged facts on the ground.

Somebody understands! But that didn't stop those neocons from the White House claiming that it was actually Rudd who telephoned Bush. "The Australian" newspaper did Stray-ya a great service by highlighting Rudd's personality, which is more important than his total ineffectivenessbrilliant diplomacy skills.

Soon he will cement his lead as a leading world leader as the architect of Stray-ya's world- leading emissions trading scheme. Huzzah!


 
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