We are the Masters of the Universe … now watch us at play:
• The fire works are unleashed They voted for it, Vote Labor, Now for the fireworks
• Next Walker Corporation will be rolling into town with a grand plan to transform the waterfront. And Hag hears the spot chosen will be the old shunting yards area just beneath the Cenotaph. Being Walker, it aint gonna be small … and Hag would not be surprised if it did not also include a nice little casino to leach into the inner and outer city suburbs, a bit of goss picked up on a drunk night out last year: Casino games. Be aware, be very aware that it will be Business as Usual in the new Lennon Government. More so. Corporate rule from the Big End of Town will be uninhibited.
•Payback time: Hag has been told that the more macho members of the Inner Circle are making King Kong-chest-thumping noises about a massive defamation writ. But not directly from the Leader. Hag hears it is the third parties associated with the government … PBL being the major wounded party … And the basis: the statement that Lennon “signed a $700 million deal just days after accepting Crown hospitality”. The reasoning being that Lennon didn’t sign or approve anything — he simply introduced the legislation to Parliament; it was the Gaming Commission which rubber-stamped Betfair. And, Hag simply can’t believe this as a great fan of the Great Leader: They’re hoping to knock off that anoying little gnat, TT, in collateral damage … In fact Hag doubts that any of this will come to pass. It’s simply the post-poll endorphin rush scrambling heads.
• And the final bit of Hag news: Paul has a deeply disaffected and terribly upset Paula on his hands. It seems the Great Leader promised Paula Wriedt the deputy leadership post-poll. She being an ambitious young lady leapt at the chance of higher honours and beavered spectacularly away … only to see her dreams evaporate as internal party support vanished during the poll; Paul discarding Paula — without telling her — as the faction muscle kicked in; then anointing someone else, with the prerequisite moustache, to play the appropriate game. Now, poor disillusioned Paula sits discarded on the sidelines, possibly even removed from the sidelines.
