There is a blot on our escutcheon! A stain on our reputation! Our name is mud!
Oh, the ignominy of it all.
Our politicians happily lie, cheat, and steal openly from the public purse, and then lie about cheating and stealing from the public purse. But we don’t cheat at ball games.
We happily incarcerate children, even newborns, for years and years in mould-infested hell-holes, subject to sexual abuse, violence and the theft of their childhoods. But we don’t cheat at ball games.
We happily allow those children’s parents to be bashed, raped and murdered or die from preventable diseases or just despair while in our care, cheating on the treaties we have signed. But we don’t cheat at ball games.
We happily spy on our poorest neighbours so that we can cheat them out of vital resources they desperately need, and lie about it until our perfidy and cheating is exposed in the international court. But we don’t cheat at ball games.
We happily stand by as our citizens and journalists are murdered with impunity by neighbours, and then cheat the truth with D notices and Official Secrets. But we don’t cheat at ball games.
We happily send our troops to fight and die in immoral wars started on lying, cheating pretexts for foreigners’ commercial advantage. But we don’t cheat at ball games.
We happily refuse to sanction nuclear weapons or admit to climate change and cheat on our share of international responsibility. But we don’t cheat at ball games.
We could walk proud at home and on the international stage, because WE DON’T CHEAT. At ball games. Because ball games are all that matter. Our entire national identity is five pieces of wood, a bat and a ball. Oh, and a bent hat, once a year.
NOTHING ELSE MATTERS.
And then we cheated – at a ball game. And we are so, so ashamed.
Steve, mate, a word of advice. Tell them you’re the prime minister, or the foreign minister, or minister for home affairs, or the Attorney General, or a Murdoch journalist, or a General, or ambassador to the UN. Anybody, but someone who plays ball games. Then you’ll be right as rain, mate.