Project Film

My idea is simple. To create a glorious, virtuous propaganda film that exposes the truth of our society and raises the profile of our most righteous and revolutionary organisation.

It will be filmed in the Great Lakes, in Bungwahl, and in Sydney’s Inner City and Southern Suburbs. It will be action-packed detailing the adventures of proletarian revolutionary Paco Alvarez, including a battle within Sydney, a retreat to the wilderness (Bungwahl) and a glorious return along with a revolutionary army to the harbour city. There will be guns, explosions, fights on the barricades. There will be city streets and wilderness. There will be Pythonesque humour and more irony than you can shake a stick. And a catchy soundtrack!

Volunteers? Ideas? Feedback? Hatemail? Get back to me, and my mercy shall be swift and brutal.


Hands up who has heard of Bungwahl? And should we explore the idea of socialism in it’s humbled groves?

That was a silly thing to say. I’m sorry. Despite the special powers outlined in previous posts, and my uncanny ability to navigate through rural towns in the early morning, I cannot see your hands. Perhaps if you scanned one of your hands and uploaded the jpeg to a Wikipedia article about a Virgin Islands basketball player I would be able to gauge an accurate answer to this question/directive. But like the social benefits of unregulated capitalism and polyester, this is immaterial.

Bungwahl is a town within our beloved and glorious Great Lakes region of NSW. It is within the area of land that rightfully belongs to our free democratic association of socialists, and therefore is of some interest to us. Much like a boil or wart on the sole of one’s foot, which you  attempt to ignore, but occasionally become aware of when climbing a specific incline, or inspect one’s toes for tinea, fluff or sudden and unexpected inbreeding.

Puppet? Why?

Bungwahlians are Often Bemused by Large Puppets

Like a boil or wart, Bungwahl is small, sweaty,  forested and has reputation for inbreeding.

According to some interweb people with a website and that, Bungwahl has a population of 211. However, I know someone who lives there, and he says there’s “like seven people here”, and since I know all of those seven people fairly well, I’m more likely to believe him, then a cabal of dodgy mustachioed, fez-wearing, wine-skulling foreigners on the internet who are probably overly fond of mice and collect model planes. Model planes are irritating. I once watched a movie with a German in it and a plane that crashed in the desert. The German said he built planes, so everyone was like “Cool! Rebuild the plane!” and he was like “Ja. OK.” But then in the end he turned out to have only built model planes, so a fat English guy got angry with him, and someone drank all the water. Irritating right?

Germans and rucksacks aside, I visited Bungwahl recently for some fraternal socialist communion. Not religious though. Religion is the opiate of the masses, says Marx, and he had a beard and his dad was a Jew, so he’d probably know better. Anyway, when I went there, after unloading some Polish furniture and walking up a long steep driveway with the smell of numbat in my nostrils, I noticed there was water in a ditch by the road. There was also a dog in the water. This has several key impacts on revolutionary policy. Water means that there is mosquitos and that means malaria. The forces of capitalism would never dream of searching for us in a malaria ridden hole like Bungwahl. Also the added threat of numerous, perhaps plentiful dogs means that aerial reconnaisance is out of the question. Dogs are also known to guard against most forms of malaria, and their happy-go-lucky attitude and willingness to learn will make them good socialists, and better bakers.


Demotivationals Are Almost Never Wrong

Bungwahl is also much endowed with trees and green things like uranium. That was a lie. There’s no uranium in Bungwahl that I know of, there’s far more simple and unsettling ways to explain the prevalence of extra limbs, toes, fingers and organs amidst the local population. That will be explained further on. Luckily the whole tree thing is being fixed with chainsaws and whatnot, and the government says that all this leafy nonsense will be over and done with fairly soon. That’s also a lie. I’m saying a lot of them now. I just ate a Monte Carlo biscuit, and as we all know the Count of Monte Cristo was a notorious lier. Need I say anymore? That said, there is some logging underway, and we all know how animals like wombats, bears, dolphins and Greenies hate logging. We could draw a local militia from the disgruntled forest folk, and reach out to the no doubt disgruntled and oppressed loggers, gruntling them together into a mighty force for good. We can use the trees or, depending how long it takes to convert the loggers, stumps to hide in from the capitalists. We can use the dogs to climb the trees and act as lookouts.

Inbreeding however is double edged spoon, and like a splade, fickle and cynical to the ways of the world. The extra digits of the local folk might mean their ability to handle peaceful revolutionary weapons of virtuous lethality would be hampered, their low IQ and high birth rate, does however counteract this. The inbreds, due to their smell, unsavoury appearance and awkward culinary habits are ostracised by our bigoted society, this combined with the promise of fresh meat should see them flock to our banner. Once our doctrine has been memorised by rote, they will make good albeit somewhat rigid socialists. The lack of morals, contraceptives, and things to do in Bungwahl means the birth rate is relatively high, allowing our armies to be replenished with ease and speed.

Unfortunately, I’ve never actually seen an inbred in Bungwahl, and most of my ideas about recruiting them come from a movie about inbred hillbillies that go crazy and kill people in America. The plot was implausible and I found it made light of certain socio-economic problems and social issues in the Appalachians that should be confronted in a more serious manner.

Be that as it may, I have made up my mind, as have you and the Grand Council. Efforts in Bungwahl will redoubled and tens of dollars of funds poured into a number of dog training and jazz piano programs. The red flag will fly over Bungwahl within an indefinite period of time, and become a bastion of our ideology, and haven for the eleven (or twelve) toed peoples of the world.

Yes We Khan

Given recent most confidential events that aren’t that confidential but fairly eventful, I need another past time to entertain my gargantuan, bloated mind. I have found several things to do but I’m yet to decide what one to pick.

1. Travel to Mongolia, find Genghis Khan and join his warband, conquering all before me. There a number of major issues to solve here. There will most likely be ideological differences between myself and the Great Khan, leading to tensions within the warband. While Mongolia was a Stalinist country throughout most of the twentieth century, leaving them somewhat open to collectivist ideals, Genghis Khan and his crew were around slightly before this. I imagine both of us will have to fight it out for control of the warband. We’d probably be shirtless, though not without pants because its quite cold in Mongolia and I’m still fairly conscious about my body. We’d fight in the snow, with all of the warriors around us, cheering their favoured contestant on, I’d be the underdog, because the underdog always wins. Apart from the raucous cheering and whatnot, there would be dead silence. An eagle would soar in the background. The warband’s Shaman, who is old and probably wounded in some way, would proclaim this an omen and there would be an silence.

Mongolian Wrestlers

A Modern Day Depiction of My Duel With Genghis

I would of course win, in a nailbiting fight, using a technique Khan tought me himself. I would stand on top of his body, and scream out in primal rage at the sky, with semi-congealed blood oozing down my masculine torso. The warriors would then bow down to my iron will, learning the ways of socialism, and creating a world utopian republic without the transitionary phases of feudalism, capitalism and state socialism dictated by the great Groucho Marx.

Another issue to resolve here would be the whole time-travel thing. Genghis died over 800 years ago I think. I’d also need to get to Mongolia, which means I’d need money for air fares, but I’d obtain those via cake sales and craft stalls. If anyone asked me what the money was for I would have to lie. Animal welfare always brings on a few dollars.

There were a few more ideas, but bugger it. This one is foolproof. You can give me feedback if you want, but I’ve already made my mind up. The posters are being photoshopped, the cakes are in the oven and I’ve bought a time machine over the internet from a kindly Spaniard for a bargain price. Yeah, just don’t bother giving feedback at all. Like the inexorable Sting, “You know my mind is made up, so put away your make up” If this post is written in Mongolian, you’ll have known that I suceeded.


I haven’t posted in a while. I have been doing other things, and have had low internet speeds. That’s OK though. Not many people read this. I doubt any of you even read this. I feel like I’m shouting into an empty bottomless abyss, and then I wake up, and I’m shut inside a  freezer and then I wake up again and I realise its my subconscious trying to tell me I’m a penguin stuck in human’s body.

So. Yes. Will be posting more often now.

Mandate Required *giggle*

These Rare Wisents Live in Polland

Glorious Soviet Wisents (Bison) Fight For the People's Perverted Pleasure

Poles: An ethnic group that make up the majority of people in Poland, a nation in East Europe that borders, Germany, Spain, Russia and South Africa. The language spoken by Poles is Polish, from the Slavic Branch of the Indo-European Language family. The history of Poland is quite interesting, converted to Catholicism quite early into the…

Oh. Nefarious homophones.

Polls: Surveys taken by evil companies to show the glorious opinions of the working class population and whatnot. As technology and civilisation as a whole, has progressed to what is no doubt its zenith, and as we have developed glorious things like Facebook, Segways, and phones that according to their name possess above average intelligence, so our polling technology has grown more and more reliable.


A result of this extraordinary phenomenon, is that political parties now base much of the policies on Poles (like Lech Walesa). Politicians backflip, shimmy, tumble, jumpstep and shuffle to the latest polls as if they were the latest hits from that renowned communist entomologist Frank Sinatra.

There has been two reactions to this. Probably more. But two major ones I suppose, like there are only usually two answers to a question like “Are you fan of post-modernism”, ie. “Yes” and “What?” Direct democracy! Cry some, “Yay! Global networking! Facebook! Arab Spring! Twitter! People power!” Mob rule! Cry others. “Bread and circuses. Panda-ring to the masses. Unwashed hordes. Erosion of sensible government.”

Me? I don’t know, but one exception to this new rule is the issue of gay marriage. It seems that a fair majority of us Australians want homosexuals to have the same rights in regards to marriage as heterosexuals. It must be true. The polls said so. Funnily enough however, neither major political party has picked this issue up. Only our pinko lefty stalwarts the Greens, and God knows what fate will befall them in the fiery pits of Zoroastrian hell.

Both leaders, whom I have affectionately dubbed “Big Ears” and “Ranga”, claim to have a man date. They say it all the time, “Man date this, man date that, great big new tax, lies lies lies lies…” But is it true? Ranga has a spouse, Timothy, who seems to be a man, and I do imagine they might go out on dates every now and then, between meetings of the cabinet and hairdressing conventions. So yes I do believe Ranga when she says she has a mandate, and I often recommend some good restaurants, cinemas or secluded bush tracks for such things to take place. I am of course talking to the television, but there is a small chance, like in 1984 that they can record what you do and report back to the government, and while that chance remains, I will continue to speak to my beloved somewhat antiquated appliance. If this turns out not to be true, than I will feel somewhat embarrassed.

Big Ears, I don’t believe. Big Ears is a Liberal. Not a liberal. A Liberal. I’d explain the ideological difference, but that would take so long as to be both impractical and unnecessary. Fish.

Anyway, since Big Ears is a Liberal, and a somewhat conservative Christian, and those types prefer Holy Water and self-flagellation to the perfidious “Gays”, I doubt his frequent claims that he has a mandate, and refute them in no unnecessary terms daily, nightly and ever so rightly. He is however not in government, and has no access to the control systems of Big Brother and his surveillance network. I am sure Ranga and her henchmen note my loyalty however, and record it duly.

Furthermore Big Ears does not even possess a male spouse! The panache! Am I to assume, from his constant rhetoric that is having an affair with an unknown male of our species? No. Big Ears is a Good Christian, and is above such shenanigans. He must not understand the definition of this key word, and I will undertake to explain it to him, next time we meet.


1. Hypocrisy and semantics plague our political system.

2. Homophones are fun.