Do you have an upwardly servile conservative in your family who's shitting himself?
Well, buy him a pair of underdacks from Peacock Sporty.
Trying to get in touch with a relative?
The Malcolm Fraser range of greeting cards is highly recommended.
This photo of Malcolm himself was taken from the famous Memphis Sessions.
Why he didn't use it on his 83 posters, I don't know.
It's how most people remember him.
On the Labour Party there's fully endorsed John Button calculator guaranteed not to work
first time or any time.
Here's a little beauty.
Yes, from the ALP.
Fully endorsed by Mr. Hawke and Mr. Keating.
An easily erectable, totally comfortable, fully portable child poverty shelter.
Keep the little bit off the streets, especially during those difficult times like elections.
Speaking of which, let's see how Saturday night...
Oh, God.
This election has seen its fair share of losers.
We had Spender spent, Stone rolled, and in Kingston, look mum, no Haynes.
It seems the polls were wildly inaccurate.
100% don't know.
After its recent losses the National Party's decided to shorten its name to the Nats.
Lucky it's not still the Country Party.
The Victorian Film Commission has announced they'll be making a horror film about this
election.
It's to be called The Fall of the House of the Usher of the Black Rod.
In the new parliament Ted Mack will sit on the cross benches, the Liberal Party will
sit on the occasionally cross benches, and the National Party will sit on the monumentally
pissed off benches.
If we have a hung parliament, will it cross to the left, cross to the right, stand up
and be counted, or just be a complete flop?
Which leads us to the other question.
If they hadn't told us on Saturday night that Charles Blunt had lost his seat, would
anyone have noticed?
Friends, families, billionaires and trees of Australia.
I am very proud to accept the honour.
Bob, Bob, we've won.
Shut up Paul, I'm rehearsing a speech.
Anyway, how come you're so surprised?
I just thought the voters might wake up to what an egotistical overbearing old turd you
are.
No, no of course not Paul.
Anymore than they'd realise that a foul mouthed, vindictive, right wing, no all-giver.
Now, I promise that I will serve the full three years of Paul Keating's term.
I knew I'd do it.
This is not just a victory for the Liberal Party.
This is not just a victory for the Australian people.
The reality is, this is a victory for me.
If one ordinary Australian can go from the log cabin to the lodge with no policies, with
Wilson Tucky and the National Party, anything is possible.
Please don't talk about me when I'm gone.
Hi there, we're the garbage of Wall of Sound.
How did your pissy Australian elections go?
I lost interest, too boring.
No surprises in your one party system.
Even Lithuania has more get up and go.
That's exactly what they did.
Hi!
I can't believe it.
No one bastard voted for me.
I didn't even vote for myself.
I just left my breakfast in two bottles of scotch all over the polling booth.
I bought a house in Canberra and everything.
Oh, hi.
A vote for the Australian Marijuana Party is a vote for the Australian Marijuana Party.
It's something to really mull over.
When you go to the polling box things, remember to...
What?
Oh, it's over already, is it?
Bummer.
My goodness me, you people, you've made your bed and as far as I'm concerned now you can lie in it.
But mind you, only one person per bed.
It's fair to say I'm pretty disappointed the Marijuana Party didn't run a candidate last Saturday.
But I found out why.
Apparently a few days before the election Federal Police raided their headquarters
and in panic party chiefs flushed their policies down the toilet.
Still, what can you expect from a party whose aim is not to get in on election night but to get off on it?
Of course, every election has to have its losers and most leaders greet the loss with style and grace like Malcolm Fraser
while some just stare straight ahead into the eyes of the electorate and say they're going to win by up to 16 seats.
Of course, some never recover at all.
But, St. Gopps, we are concerned with the rehabilitation of ex-politicians.
When a politician realizes that he has not been elected, immediately there is an extraordinary sense of loss.
It's followed by a period of denial.
I don't believe it! I demand a recount!
And of course many politicians try to act perfectly normally as if nothing has happened.
They try to bottle up their grief.
I'm just stepping out for a moment, Miss Braille.
That's usually when we step in.
When we get the call, we contact the political rescue squad who are normally able to coax the politician back to some kind of reality with a television clamour.
Come on, Mr. Combs. We have a clamour here for a photo opportunity.
We can do an interview. I promise it won't be Paul Lyman.
Even here they are still away with the pixies, so to speak.
Many of them have the shakes.
There are several methods of counselling available.
Here in the Malcolm Fraser wing we have flesh-pressing deprivation therapy.
Then of course there is aversion therapy, where if they display any vote-getting behaviour they receive a very painful electric shock.
Then there is speech therapy, or rather non-speech therapy, where they are trained to speak without the need of rhetoric.
Just say hello.
My dear friends, as I stand before you this morning, I feel...
And of course there is the controversial deep sleep therapy, where they are shown hours and hours of their own speeches.
Often when they wake up they have no idea what they did, or who they are, or where they are.
Where ever. Where ever.
No, no, no. My wife, my kids.
Ex-Senator Ian Coons now lives quietly with his family and works as a meat packer.
Thanks to therapy he is completely cured. Or is he?
Ian Coons will be back in Brain Sucker, the return of the Senator from the club.
Now that it's all over I hope I did the right thing.
It was really hard to choose because the Labor candidate was my maths teacher at school, and who wants a square root fancy a running knee?
And the Liberal candidate was that sleazebag car dealer who saw my date that clapped out family wagon with teeth marks all over the back seat covers,
and no guarantee it would work, and it didn't except in negative gear.
And the Democrat was that woman with yawl over leather tan and no underwear who reads tea leaves down at the shopping mall and reckons that FM radio causes tumours in her caps.
And the Independent was the local chemist who wants to bulk bill truck drivers for benzadrine, so I did a vote.
I went and got a job as a hostess at a Japanese massage parlour.
It would have been the same if I had voted, and at least my left hand knows what my right hand is doing.
I have recently been in touch with my friend Keating via the medium of the telegraph,
and he assures me that the tar and feathers have been removed with a minimum of difficulty.
Meanwhile, I am in a position to offer you a piece of prime real estate.
This land has been specifically zoned as a multi-function parlours, the city of the future, where the latest Western and Eastern technology will proliferate.
This development includes 15 sushi bars, a cherry blossom bath house, the world's largest fully functioning ant farm,
and a customs designed customs hall where you may surrender your Australian passports with equanimity.
This land is worth $20 an acre, but today only $10 a square foot.
Oh, here you are, here you are.
I trust this new technology will find a way to drain the swamp.
Never give a sucker an even breath.
Ah, what a bummer, Andrew.
One man has dominated this federal election more than any other, Andrew Sharp Peacock,
and regardless of his political future, it's time he was recognised for what he really is, a triumph of Australian science.
You see, the Liberal Party have long experimented with artificial leadership, often with tragic results.
Genetically engineering Harold Holt to be capable of talking underwater, for example, was a complete disaster,
while the DNA implants for Billy McMahon carried far too many ear chromosomes.
But with Peacock, the Liberals struck pay dirt.
Combining cells cloned from the posterior of Sir Robert Menzies with upraised ski bionic limbs,
they created a somewhere between nought and $2.6 billion man.
With the addition of intelligent microchips and a catchy middle name, both supplied by the Japanese Sharp Corporation,
the robotic Peacock, also known as Rogocock, seemed to be the perfect politician.
But despite all his brilliance, Peacock had one fatal flaw.
Like any computer, he's only as smart as the person using him.
In this case, sadly, John Elliott.
Whatever may become of him, the amazing true story of Andrew Sharp Peacock raises questions for us all.
In particular, this.
If we can accept a mindless automaton as our leader, then what job is possibly safe from the ravages of new technology?
Think about it. Because next time, it could be you. It could be you. It could be you. It could be you. It could be you.
Right. Victory celebration and damage assessment meeting of the multi-function party machine.
Minutes of the last round up. Thank you, Brian.
Sayonara.
Any recounts?
All right.
What are the figures saying, Gretel?
Well, 52% spoiled their ballot papers, 34% spoiled someone else's ballot papers, and 100% spoiled their whole day.
What about this hung parliament? What did happen to Charles Blunt? Has he lost it?
Has he lost it? When did he ever have it? Charles Blunt makes John Howard look like a Rob Lowe goof tape.
Well, what about the MFP, the big crowd pleasing issue?
64% of the electorate think that the multi-function pollis is a bisexual copper.
Yeah, but...
Remember that we got Peacock to say Paul Kelly was a bastard.
No, no, no, mate. He's a journalist. No shock value there.
Yeah, we got Hawke to say that Darren Hinch is a bastard.
Yeah, but he was reliant on fact.
So, who's running the country?
Two blokes down at the Treasury with multiple passports and Mojo.
And Puma Guy Goomy.
John Elliott.
And Leo Schofield.
And Ida Buttrose.
And my little brother.
Well, just the same as usual there.
Pretty well. Well, don't forget the Janine Haynes farewell and celebrity race next Saturday. Andrew Peacock's coming.
Oh, no, that's just premature speculation.
Don't worry about it.
Once upon a time, the Democrats kept the bastards honest.
That didn't work.
So now the Democrats will be bastards to the bastards.
If you think this election has been grueling viewing,
spare a thought for the families of politicians who have all the stress of the campaign, but none of the support.
We spoke to the wife of a well-known politician.
Her identity has been kept secret for obvious reasons.
It's been very difficult in this household for the past five weeks.
First, my husband reshuffled the family.
Our youngest became our eldest.
I became responsible for defence and my mother was dumped from the family altogether.
Did he make any wild promises?
Promises?
You wouldn't believe the promises.
Cleaning up the drains, building a multifunctional doghouse, putting in a third driveway.
Where's the money coming from, I asked him.
Oh, not him. I sent him up the street for toilet paper and a nice leg of lamb
and he comes back owing Japan two billion dollars.
And what about sex?
Well, I'll tell you this for nothing.
Politicians make strange bedfellows.
He's always got his minders with him, advising him on his position.
It's terrible for the children of politicians.
After five weeks campaigning, they lie constantly, they cheat at maths and they'll leak anywhere.
Parliament House coiffure.
Oh, Janine, darling, I'm sorry I lost you seat.
I told you the perm was wrong.
You want to send it to your account?
Oh, no, don't bother, darling. Just don't tell anyone where you had it done.
Oh, these people who vote informal, it's disgusting.
It's because the poor fools get flummoxed by all this election talk.
Well, I turned my wireless off two weeks ago
and I'll turn it back on on Sunday after I voted next Saturday for the DLP just like I always do.
Oh, yes.
So, the new government's offering women 70 million dollars over the next three years.
That's about 23.3 million dollars a year.
And with approximately eight million females in the country, that works out at roughly two dollars ninety each per year.
I wonder if we'll have any say in how it's going to be spent.
Because I'd like to spend mine on a cappuccino and a caramel slice.
Hi, I'm John B. Elker Peterson. Remember me?
Yeah, well, it's not too late for true conservatives to have their voice in Canberra.
Our national party think tank has tipped April 7 as the next general election.
So it's all green lights from the sunshine state.
Only this time I'm going to change my name to give myself a better chance.
Yeah, so you can call me Warren Bajocchi Peterson.
Queensland Nationals. Not dead, just buried.
I think the only fair outcome of this election would be to ask both parties to form a government.
It would be great. You know, you'd have Bob and Andrew sitting on each other's laps on the front bench.
Paul Keating would have to wait for two leaders to step down.
You'd have 147 people on one side of the house.
And the only reason anyone would cross the floor would be to say hi to Ted Mack.
The word democracy comes from a Greek word meaning, bugger it, let's have another bottle.
It's only the taxpayers' money.
And there's no doubt that in this election, democracy herself was the winner.
Well, after the politicians and the various bullfrogs of the media.
But there's no doubt that democracy ran a very good third.
Lovely to see you, democracy.
So, what did you think of our election?
Oh my god, you haven't had one, have you? When?
Two days ago.
Well, why didn't anyone tell me?
I'd have sent a card, flowers, something.
Who won?
Well, it's either Bob Hawke or Andrew Peacock.
Oh, joking.
Well, the honeymoon period's going to be very short either way.
I should know. I've been booked into more honeymoon suites than Jar Jar Gabor.
You know the routine. Two go in, one comes out.
Oh, you have been busy lately.
Oh, I've been flat out like Mike Willisie drinking.
Panama, I was there.
America very kindly lent me 16,000 scrutineers.
And the only how-to vote card was an M16 up your kyber.
Well, you're also pretty popular in Eastern Europe.
Oh, tell me about it.
Typhoid Mary for 60 years and now I'm suddenly Miss Deep Vote 1990.
I've had more open-ended invitations and Rock Hudson's had large parts.
Czechoslovakia, they've very big on the postal vote.
Czech's in the mail?
They all suit yourselves.
How do you feel about Gorbachev?
Oh, it's a terrible flirt.
Likes to be seen with me, but as soon as he gets back to the Kremlin,
it's off with his hard-line chums.
I think he's got deviationalist tendencies.
See, we'd make a lovely couple.
So can we look forward to seeing you in South Africa?
I'm completely in the dark about South Africa.
I thought Nelson Mandela was a Patrick White novel.
Are you looking forward to Black Rule?
Oh, I'll say.
Black Rule, best-hung parliament in the world.
Those were the days, my friend, they ended.
I was in the tally room on Saturday night and frankly I couldn't believe it.
Everybody claimed victory.
Except of course John Howard.
Bob and Andrew were swept back into government for the first time
with a clear mandate from the electorate to carry on as before and change everything.
Well, I don't understand it.
What sort of result is that, huh?
It's the party machine's greatest trial.
Everybody wins.
Not one, but two lots of tax cuts, concessions and giveaways.
We'll be living in utopia.
No child will pay capital gains tax.
Check it out.
The party machine has won this election with help from Jeanine, Andrew, Bob and Paul.
We kept you in frown, we throw facts to the wall.
We're closing the lock on the door.
We're closing the lock on the door.
We're closing the lock on the door.
We're closing the lock on the door.
We're closing the lock on the door.
We're closing the lock on the door.
We're pouring John Singleton back in his rolls.
Forget the national debt and interest rates.
The figures that no one explains.
The beat-ups and the leaks.
The choice between the free and the machine has pulled it off again.
To get your juices flowing we put on a great debate for you.
We organized Paul Inam to serve Peacock on a pleat view.
We kept the pilots grounded and surrounded them with tamarisk.
And even found a miscreant blonto Andrew could look amorous.
We buggered up the balance sheets and handed them to Barton.
Undoubtedly was our sacrificial and just up his mutt.
We handed back the North West Cape and now the Japs are grabbing it.
And handed out polkolios for Howard's wartime cabinet.
We spread the gloomy rumor of competing as Prime Minister.
May Peter Shep look shifty and may Richardson sound sinister.
We leaked, we lied, we vilified.
We signed and we stunned it.
The Democrats divided and the Nationals were planted.
You're living in U-T-O-P-I-A.
Utopian hours for utopian pain.
U-T-O-P-I-A.
You're gonna see prices slashed, rots galore.
The poor get rich, the rich get more.
U-T-O-P-I-A.
Now you've made up your mind.
You've won the car.
That's a trip or two to Shangri-La.
La la la la.
We promised you everything in double speak.
Sold you right out the creek.
So if it seems less than some life.
I can have another shot at it in three years time.
Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome first of all,
Miss Whitney Houston.
Mr. Buster Douglas.
Sir Isaac Isaacs.
Johnny Farnham.
Margaret Fulton.
And appearing tonight for the first time is himself,
Mr. Salman Rusty.
And together they make the Kipp Axe choir.
Yes, that famous group that sang the Liberal Party advertisement.
They'll be unemployed pretty soon, but before that happens,
they'd like to bring you this sentimental number.
Over to you, Salman.
If this result is in dispute when all is said and done.
We'll need to do it all again by 1991.
Then again in 92.
And twice in 93.
Three times or more.
Then exponentially.
By the next millennium.
They'll have had a taste of power.
The parliamentary term will last just over half an hour.
Because in the end it's like a drug you crave it more and more.
You've spread so many preferences your ballot boxes soar.
Our loads of thanks to you, Ted Mack and Helen Caldicott.
Because of you we still don't know which government we've got and which not.
Applause.
Well, thank you very much.
And to you, we hope you've enjoyed participating in this election as much as we've enjoyed bringing it to you.
For those of you who missed it or would just like to relive some golden moments,
the Party Machine has this video out.
Best of Election 90.
20 minutes of election highlights spread over five hours of videotape.
It's a miniseries hit.
More wind than winds of war.
More believable and true believers.
More rooted than roots.
Watch this and you will believe a man can lie.
And above all, it brings a sneak preview of the next federal election coming soon to a polling booth near you.
Thank you very much.
Good night and good luck.
You're going to need it.
We hope you enjoyed the Party Machine.
In a moment, a preview of brushstrokes returning next Monday at 8.
And then after a news update, Four Corners follows the polling, the candidates and the emotions of Election Day in a South Australian electorate.
Kingston's big day.
The election for Corners shortly on ABC.
Thank you.