I know you hold the idea of instilling children with national pride close to your heart—indeed, the daily ritual of raising the flag and singing the national anthem is one way to inject some much needed patriotism into the youth of today. But there is another way.
I agree that children need to understand the history and values we as Australians all share, and you must be ecstatic you have the backing of your compatriot, the Prime Minister. Those toffee-nosed hippies in the seventies destroyed the nationalism for which the hard-working folk of the fifties had fought so many years. However, this is the new millennium and I believe Australian patriotism needs a more palpable manifestation to reflect the society of today—Patriotism of the Penis.
During one my recent soirées at the Enmore theatre, I bore witness to the phallic contortions of that Australian duo, ‘Puppetry of the Penis’. I did not know precisely what it was, but watching two grown men in yellow and red satin capes galloping around and playing with their nobs before of hundreds of people, somehow made me proud to be Australian like never before.
My heart swelled as they took me on a genital journey of Australia’s great icons coupled with that famous down-to-earth Aussie humour. And as I admired their installation of that great symbol of Australia, Uluru, it suddenly dawned upon me—what better and more relevant way to communicate to the kiddies what it means to be Australian than through a couple of ‘loveable larrikins’ with a unique love of their country and its people?
The freedom with which the Puppeteers of the Penis flaunt their patriotism would teach our children not to be ashamed of themselves or their country. Our kids will grow up more socially aware and open to topics of sex and nationalism by understanding that it’s okay to say to the world, “I am Australian and proud of it”, and it’s normal for the boys to shave their testicles and for the girls to laugh at the size of a man’s willy.
It would also break the ice on those notoriously embarrassing biology lessons. A couple of months of this type of Australian patriotism, and they would soon stop giggling through sex education class, I can assure you.
Moreover, it doesn’t have to stop at schools.
With the object of God’s design, our Puppeteers would function perfectly as ambassadors and as an exhibition of the talent and beauty we have to offer ‘down under’. The flapping of a scrotum in the wind, or the haunting silhouette of the Australian shield complete with kangaroo and emu, would beat the pants out of a few $50-a-kilo tiger prawns on the barbie and that ‘oh-so-popular’ brew Fosters lager.
Our two little boys would put France’s cock to shame. Such a liberating display of nationalistic flashing would have the Americans scrambling to ape us. This alone would generate an unprecedented sense of national unity comparable only to the occasions when we beat them in the pool or on the tennis court.
I dare go so far as to say that this approach might even contribute to world peace by utilising one of Australia’s greatest attributes—our frankness:
“Here you go boys, we’ve laid it on the table—we don’t need nuclear weapons to prove who’s got the biggest schlong.”
Furthermore, unlike our national anthem or flag, the Puppeteers pay tribute to the Indigenous peoples and cultures of our well-endowed land by conjuring up images of the red center, the didgeridoo and the boomerang. We would also bring multicultural Australia under a banner of phallic singularity by promoting one of the fundamental objects that makes and keeps us human.
I know what you’re thinking: but it’s so much more about resorting to sex to sell the idea of Australian patriotism. It worked for the Gold Coast, why not the whole country?
The only things missing from this ingenious idea are some true-blue Aussie girls performing renditions of the Olgas and Tasmania. I could hold the auditions at my place if that were easier.
So I think the solution is, my dear Minister, is to ‘get down and get naked’. Tell our toddlers the true meaning of what it means to be Australian and encourage public acceptance of nationalistic nudity. Perhaps we could get Mr Squiggle out of the closet while we’re at it too. I’m sure he would have a few ideas for the new flag.
A Voting Taxpayer Student Republican