“Good evening, sir. I'm Officer Lansdale. This is Officer Wyatt. From the Australian Federal Police's HOME SAFE division ...”
“Oh? Yes?”
“As you may be aware, sir, Federal HOME SAFE agents are now empowered to conduct random searches throughout homes in this area during the month to ascertain that certain societal norms and standards are being upheld across the wider community.”
“Er, I'm in the middle of dinner right now ...”
“It's a bit late to be eating dinner now, isn’t it sir? Didn't you know that consumption of foodstuffs and beverages shortly before bedtime are liable to result in disturbed sleep patterns throughout the night? This could, in all probability, be detrimental to your work of the next day, sir, not to mention detrimental to the overall productivity of the nation as a cumulative result if such behaviour were to continue to end of day the current fiscal quarter.”
“I wasn't planning on going to bed any time soon.”
“Do you typically stay up to all hours, then?”
“It's only 9.00pm.”
“I know what the time is, sir ... And dinner will comprise ... ?”
“Dinner is comprising leftover boeuf bourguignon, a couple of steamed potatoes and a glass of wine.”
“Rather heavy on the starch and carbohydrates aren't we, sir? All that meat and mushrooms as well ... you are aware, aren’t you sir, that consumption of such foodstuffs can cause widespread flatulence, a leading contributor to the degradation of our airborne environment ... Think that’s funny, do you?! ... Well, it’s very, very, very serious, smartarse! Been to France lately, have we? The whole cheesy little shithole stinks like a fucking Delhi dunny, all those farting frogs and their skinny, baguette barfing bints and what not, creamy wine sauces and pastries and crap ... Was the bourguignon thickened with flour, may I ask?”
“Just a touch of it, yes.”
“I see ... Just the one glass of wine, was it?”
“No, I’m on my third.”
“I see. Planning on going out sometime tonight, are we?”
“No.”
“Good. See to it that you don’t ... What’s this, sir? This ... packet. Here.”
“It’s a 4 pack of frozen chicken and vegetable pies.”
“Uh-huh. I see ... And this?”
“A Cornetto.”
“I beg yours?”
“A Cornetto ... it’s a type of ice-cre –“
“Yes, I know it’s a fucking ice-cream, mate! Don’t come playing silly buggers with me, pal, or we’ll have you in stir faster than you can toss a delightfully healthy and fulfilling salad of mixed greens, crunchy vegetables and wholemeal croutons lightly dressed with extra virgin olive oil, garlic and balsamic!”
“... ? ...”
“You wouldn’t know a fucking salad if it bit you on the bum, would you, sir? No fine fucking Baltic anchovies have ever passed those fat, puffy lips of yours via way of a well-made Caesar, have they, pally?”
“Will you be much long - ?”
“As long as it takes us to do our job, mate. As long as it takes ... What’s that you’re watching right now, sir?”
“Gordon Ramsey’s Kitchen Nightmares.”
“Like a bit of foul and filthy language, do we, sir? Enjoy a bit of verbal abuse, vocal humiliation, a bit of rough, eh? ... Not the nature documentary type, are we? Disney not good enough for you, is it? John Boy Walton and his folks not quite edgy enough for you hoity-toity inner-urban types, eh?... Into child porn too, are we?”
“Of course not!”
“This an ashtray, sir?”
“Yes.”
“Smoke, do we? Smoke cigarettes?”
“Yes.”
“You filthy cunt. You selfish little smelly fucker.”
“Now, look here, you come into my –“
“You fat, smelly, foul-mouthed, farting little fucker of children!”
“I WAS JUST HAVING A QUIET NIGHT AT HOME WATCHING A BIT OF FUCKING TELLY AND HAVING A MEAL AND A FEW FUCKING DRINKS, FOR CHRIST’S SAKE!”
“... Are you on drugs, sir?”
“No!”
“You do seem a bit agitated, that’s all, sir ... Up one minute, down the next, you know ... you could be suffering from depression, sir. Have you seen anyone about that? A touch of bi-polar, perhaps. Quite common these days, sir, all those sporting people and celebrities and stars and models and such, they’re all as mad as bloody hatters, sir. There’s some very good drugs available nowadays, I hear ...”
“I’m not depressed ... I don’t need any bloody drugs ...”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Half-ounce of hydro?”
“What? Pot?”
“Yup.”
“How much?”
“For you, a hunnert and twenny.”
“Okay ... Jeez, I haven’t had a spliff in years ...”
“All things in moderation, sir.”
“Thanks very much.”
“You’re welcome ... Now ... Before we go on our way, a few words of advice, sir, courtesy of your Federal Government servants ...Think about giving up the fags, mate. They’ll kill you in the end, we all know that ... And leftover boeuf bourguignon is fine on some occasions, but do try to balance it out with something simple, perhaps a nice bit of grilled fish and a salad couple times a week. With a nice white wine and caper sauce, that’d be the go ... And I’d ditch the pies and the ice-cream if I were you, sir, we don’t you winding up in triple bypass country by the time you’re 50 now, do we? Hospital system’s overburdened and under-resourced as it is, let’s give the poor buggers a bit of a break, eh? Also, I’d recommend you try to eat your final meal of the day at least two ... two and a half hours prior to retiring for a good night’s rest ... about 7 if you’re planning on a 9.30 tuck-in ... As for Ramsey’s program ... well, it’s all a bit frantic for this time of night, don’t you think, sir? All that swearing and shouting and rushing about ... A nice video would be far more preferable, I’d think. “My Three Sons” is just out on DVD ... lovely show ... my gran used to be quite keen on that Fred MacMurray bloke ...”
“Are we done?”
“Yes, sir, that’s it for now. Thanks very much for your time.”
“Good. Cheers for the choof.”
“Any time, sir, just give us a call. That’s some bitchin’ brew, mark my words ... I swear, first time I tried it I knocked myself into dimensions that would’ve made Einstein weep for a light year.”
“Look forward to it.”
“And take care of yourself, sir. Remember, if you don’t, your Government will do it for you. It’s our job.”
From 1986, The Smiths “Panic”
“Oh? Yes?”
“As you may be aware, sir, Federal HOME SAFE agents are now empowered to conduct random searches throughout homes in this area during the month to ascertain that certain societal norms and standards are being upheld across the wider community.”
“Er, I'm in the middle of dinner right now ...”
“It's a bit late to be eating dinner now, isn’t it sir? Didn't you know that consumption of foodstuffs and beverages shortly before bedtime are liable to result in disturbed sleep patterns throughout the night? This could, in all probability, be detrimental to your work of the next day, sir, not to mention detrimental to the overall productivity of the nation as a cumulative result if such behaviour were to continue to end of day the current fiscal quarter.”
“I wasn't planning on going to bed any time soon.”
“Do you typically stay up to all hours, then?”
“It's only 9.00pm.”
“I know what the time is, sir ... And dinner will comprise ... ?”
“Dinner is comprising leftover boeuf bourguignon, a couple of steamed potatoes and a glass of wine.”
“Rather heavy on the starch and carbohydrates aren't we, sir? All that meat and mushrooms as well ... you are aware, aren’t you sir, that consumption of such foodstuffs can cause widespread flatulence, a leading contributor to the degradation of our airborne environment ... Think that’s funny, do you?! ... Well, it’s very, very, very serious, smartarse! Been to France lately, have we? The whole cheesy little shithole stinks like a fucking Delhi dunny, all those farting frogs and their skinny, baguette barfing bints and what not, creamy wine sauces and pastries and crap ... Was the bourguignon thickened with flour, may I ask?”
“Just a touch of it, yes.”
“I see ... Just the one glass of wine, was it?”
“No, I’m on my third.”
“I see. Planning on going out sometime tonight, are we?”
“No.”
“Good. See to it that you don’t ... What’s this, sir? This ... packet. Here.”
“It’s a 4 pack of frozen chicken and vegetable pies.”
“Uh-huh. I see ... And this?”
“A Cornetto.”
“I beg yours?”
“A Cornetto ... it’s a type of ice-cre –“
“Yes, I know it’s a fucking ice-cream, mate! Don’t come playing silly buggers with me, pal, or we’ll have you in stir faster than you can toss a delightfully healthy and fulfilling salad of mixed greens, crunchy vegetables and wholemeal croutons lightly dressed with extra virgin olive oil, garlic and balsamic!”
“... ? ...”
“You wouldn’t know a fucking salad if it bit you on the bum, would you, sir? No fine fucking Baltic anchovies have ever passed those fat, puffy lips of yours via way of a well-made Caesar, have they, pally?”
“Will you be much long - ?”
“As long as it takes us to do our job, mate. As long as it takes ... What’s that you’re watching right now, sir?”
“Gordon Ramsey’s Kitchen Nightmares.”
“Like a bit of foul and filthy language, do we, sir? Enjoy a bit of verbal abuse, vocal humiliation, a bit of rough, eh? ... Not the nature documentary type, are we? Disney not good enough for you, is it? John Boy Walton and his folks not quite edgy enough for you hoity-toity inner-urban types, eh?... Into child porn too, are we?”
“Of course not!”
“This an ashtray, sir?”
“Yes.”
“Smoke, do we? Smoke cigarettes?”
“Yes.”
“You filthy cunt. You selfish little smelly fucker.”
“Now, look here, you come into my –“
“You fat, smelly, foul-mouthed, farting little fucker of children!”
“I WAS JUST HAVING A QUIET NIGHT AT HOME WATCHING A BIT OF FUCKING TELLY AND HAVING A MEAL AND A FEW FUCKING DRINKS, FOR CHRIST’S SAKE!”
“... Are you on drugs, sir?”
“No!”
“You do seem a bit agitated, that’s all, sir ... Up one minute, down the next, you know ... you could be suffering from depression, sir. Have you seen anyone about that? A touch of bi-polar, perhaps. Quite common these days, sir, all those sporting people and celebrities and stars and models and such, they’re all as mad as bloody hatters, sir. There’s some very good drugs available nowadays, I hear ...”
“I’m not depressed ... I don’t need any bloody drugs ...”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Half-ounce of hydro?”
“What? Pot?”
“Yup.”
“How much?”
“For you, a hunnert and twenny.”
“Okay ... Jeez, I haven’t had a spliff in years ...”
“All things in moderation, sir.”
“Thanks very much.”
“You’re welcome ... Now ... Before we go on our way, a few words of advice, sir, courtesy of your Federal Government servants ...Think about giving up the fags, mate. They’ll kill you in the end, we all know that ... And leftover boeuf bourguignon is fine on some occasions, but do try to balance it out with something simple, perhaps a nice bit of grilled fish and a salad couple times a week. With a nice white wine and caper sauce, that’d be the go ... And I’d ditch the pies and the ice-cream if I were you, sir, we don’t you winding up in triple bypass country by the time you’re 50 now, do we? Hospital system’s overburdened and under-resourced as it is, let’s give the poor buggers a bit of a break, eh? Also, I’d recommend you try to eat your final meal of the day at least two ... two and a half hours prior to retiring for a good night’s rest ... about 7 if you’re planning on a 9.30 tuck-in ... As for Ramsey’s program ... well, it’s all a bit frantic for this time of night, don’t you think, sir? All that swearing and shouting and rushing about ... A nice video would be far more preferable, I’d think. “My Three Sons” is just out on DVD ... lovely show ... my gran used to be quite keen on that Fred MacMurray bloke ...”
“Are we done?”
“Yes, sir, that’s it for now. Thanks very much for your time.”
“Good. Cheers for the choof.”
“Any time, sir, just give us a call. That’s some bitchin’ brew, mark my words ... I swear, first time I tried it I knocked myself into dimensions that would’ve made Einstein weep for a light year.”
“Look forward to it.”
“And take care of yourself, sir. Remember, if you don’t, your Government will do it for you. It’s our job.”
From 1986, The Smiths “Panic”
