At last count there were not a lot of dictatorships left in the world. There’s still Belarus, always reliable, China, possibly Cambodia and always will be Chad but nobody cares about them.
And now there’s Melbourne, a city that has gone to great pains in the past to lay claim to its love of sport and culture: the former which it exports in the form of a brutish game called Aussie Rules and the latter which it pays to bring into the State. You see unlike the rainforests and beaches of Queensland, the spectacular harbour of Sydney, the bounty and culture of Adelaide (which it doesn’t pay through the nose to import) the wild beauty of Western Australia and the sacred nature filled paradise that is Tasmania, Melbourne has to import itself. It pays celebrity (I use the term loosely) guests to come and watch a horse race, runs a tennis tournament in searing heat and then pays through the nose for a Grand Prix. All of which could disappear in a heartbeat and will if Dictator Dan, the reptilian eyed Premier of Victoria has his way.
Thanks to this shambolic figure of a man, the city is now in lockdown from the ‘evil, wicked coronavirus’. Worse, each day he turns up piously hunchbacked to stand in front of the press and give out dubious numbers which he refers to as ‘SYENCE.’ Fact is there is less science in these numbers than pure lies. These are numbers massaged to make us all believe there is a big THING out there and unless we stay in a punitive lockdown, complete with police who put the boot into innocent people out buying bananas, we will die.
Truth is we are already dying. Businesses have fallen and most will never get up again. Suicide rates are up and people cannot visit their loved ones in care homes where incidentally death rates are down but Dan wants them up so they’re up. But none of those numbers matter. This truly incompetent piece of vermin is determined to run Victoria into the ground, having already turned Melbourne into a ghost town (not that it wasn’t before).