Jarvis Cocker
Well Tony arrived at work on Monday to find the Gunns analyst had defected, and he’d been give the job of updating the numbers. The previous analyst was a 23-year-old devout follower of the spreadsheet; had never been to Tasmania, and had certainly never spent a night lost in the Tasmanian wilderness. Tony was full of questions. “Is Robin Gray still alive? Surely the old cunt on the Gunns Board can’t be the same one?’’
I GOT an unexpected call from an old friend the other night.
Tony, who I first met more than twenty years ago in the Uni bar, has long since settled in Sydney where an honours degree in Economics eventually landed him a job analysing train fare receipts for the NSW Government.
A partner, three kids and a heavily mortgaged house in Randwick followed, and Tony looked well on the way to fulfilling the Great Australian Dream.
Until his long hours at the Transport Department took their toll; Tony’s partner found comfort with someone else, Tony found solace in the bottle, and Tony’s employer decided he was better suited to an alternate vocation.
In our younger days, Tony and I would sometimes disappear into the Tasmanian bush, in what we pretended was a break from our gruelling studies. We never ventured too far from civilisation; always preferring walks with either a warm hut or a cold bottle at the end of the day, and when he rang me three years ago asking if we could revisit one of our earlier expeditions, I readily agreed.
I picked him up from the airport a few weeks later. The Tony I remember from University days was a strapping 20-year-old; always quick with a smile, and never one to shy from a challenge.
I almost didn’t recognise him – time hadn’t been kind to Tony. To be frank, he looked like shit.
We retreated to a Salamanca wine bar which didn’t exist in our University days, where we swapped stories about our lives. Sadly, Tony wasn’t easy company. A new job in funds management didn’t inspire him; he saw little of his kids, and his easy-going manner had vanished, replaced with a bitter, cynical view of the world.
To make matters worse, the rampant socialism endemic to University students had long since vanished from Tony’s ethos – he was now an ardent capitalist.
After considering his physical condition, initial plans for a week-long (and alcohol-free) Overland Track expedition were replaced by a couple of nights at Pine Valley, but even that proved ambitious. An unseasonal blast of icy air from the South Pole dropped two feet of snow around Narcissus Hut, so there we stayed.
A few days later, I dropped Tony back at the airport, with the ties to the past feeling noticeably stretched. I waved goodbye, thinking I’d never hear from him again.
And then last year, a fit, healthy looking Tony arrived unannounced at my doorstep, complete with a new (Tasmanian) bride, demanding that I take a week out of my life to traverse the Overland Track with him, sadly sans new bride (who I must say, was far more appealing than any of Jarvis’ recent conquests).
We did it. In the middle of winter, Tony and I walked from Lake St Clair to Dove Lake, with scarcely a word of disagreement, and in the face the most putrid weather Tasmania can offer.
It was hard to believe this was the same person I’d spend two sullen nights with at Narcissus Hut just a couple of years before. Tony, who had previously given every indication of being on a terminal downhill slide, seemed to have come good.
He’d cut back on the dreaded alcohol (although we did have a few at Cradle Mountain Lodge on the sixth night), risen through the funds management ranks to a decent analyst’s position, and did I mention picked up a hottie?
When we returned to Hobart, the lovely Vanessa had forgiven me for stealing her new husband, and the two of them flew back to Sydney, promising to return soon.
And the call the other night?
Well Tony arrived at work on Monday to find the Gunns analyst had defected, and he’d been give the job of updating the numbers.
The previous analyst was a 23-year-old devout follower of the spreadsheet; had never been to Tasmania, and had certainly never spent a night lost in the Tasmanian wilderness.
Tony was full of questions.
“Is Robin Gray still alive? Surely the old cunt on the Gunns Board can’t be the same one?’’
“Are they serious about this shit? Hasn’t anyone looked at their fucking cashflow?’’ (Tony’s words, not mine).
“Jarvis, what the fuck’s going on down there in Tasmania?’’
We talked at length about wood supply deals; about resource management; about how John Gay is not only trying to raise finance from every dodgy banker on the globe, but endeavouring to flog off non-core assets like Tamar Ridge without success. And we planned another walk in the Tasmanian bush, far from tree plantations and taxpayer-funded toursim ventures.
And Tony’s new recommendation, which should be published within days?
“Gunns? Fuck off. I’m an investment analyst, not a pokies player’’
Alex Wadsley
June 30, 2008 at 13:54
Fact-lite but thoroughly entertaining!
frankly speaking
June 30, 2008 at 21:06
Wow Jarvis,
call that frankly talking. Good news in the non pipeline event then soon to hit the news it sounds.
Let’s be real here, the fact is that the stored sun energy in our native forest timber is far higher that to waste it through a ECF pulping process, requiring at that oversized scale over 2 billion Aussie Dollars.
There is far more demand for bioenergy in a few month time, when carbon trading begins and the crud oil price has climbed yet another $50 more a barrel.
It would be without question that Tasmania would be better of to completly and fundamentally restructure forest practices, end clearfelling all together, get a new management team established by sending the old established guard into retirement, thinking total quality and then to establish a totally integrated catchment management process.
Optimising Water, Hydrology, Landscape, local employment and local community benefit, soil quality,increased training and employment opportunities.
The whole woodchip export does no sense with the changes in energy and fertilizer and chemical costs.
In reality, we could convert the by-products from responsibly managed forests, farms and landscapes, from operations that are certifiable under the international FSC process,here in Tasmania for the common wealth.
It does not take a GUNNS ECF pulpmill and oversized biomass plant to make use / ad value to our natural resources.
The “over mature” GUNNS Board, together with their puppets, “Forest Conversion Tasmania” and the managers of “Forest Conversion Practices Board” completly lost the opportunity to establish and foster what Tasmania needs to be sustainable.
Good on ya Jarvis, the next bushwalk will be fun,
regards to Tony
Time will tell wahts to come of it
Bob McMahon
June 30, 2008 at 21:13
I don’t often get jealous of other peoples’ writing but I do wish I could lay claim to this gem as my own. Jarvis, I am humbled.
john hayward
June 30, 2008 at 21:16
Tony needs to realise that establishing a viable mill is not what this game is necessarily about. There are other ways to skin a state.
The $15,000,000 sovereign risk guarantee appears does little more than provide the govt with a token argument for not dropping the whole thing and gives Gunns a similar argument for demanding that the state do nothing to stem the looting orgy in the meanwhile.
The Wood Supply Agreement has to be replaced by an agreement acceptable to both parties if the Mill doesn’t get up, suggesting Gunns can either insist it be given wood on the same wildly generous terms as for the WSA or handsomely bought out by JQ Public. FT seemingly has the power to sell the wood for peanuts or sell a major part of it to Gunns on the WSA Heads of Agreement terms which will no doubt be commercial in confidence.
If Gunns seem reckless in this caper, it may be because they know that the manager is a trusted member of the gang.
John Hayward
Mike Adams
June 30, 2008 at 21:50
Your mate Tony is just the latest in a long string of financial analysts to see the folly in this pulp mill and Gunns’ operations. As with Ben Quin and others he sees the essential gamble, along with those who have mentioned cargo cult. Unfortunately we have a government addicted to gambling; pokies, race horses, Betfair, footy teams.
No doubt our government’s next gamble will be to await Gunns’ share issue (to cover mill costs) and then buy up big. I can see the joy this would bring the PR people in selling the benefits to the public: ‘ a real stake in Tasmania’s future’ , ‘ the blessings of public ownership’, ‘Gunns and your government as partners!’ , ‘No more division!’ , ‘Let’s all move forward to the bright shining uplands!’ (Hoping that the punters won’t recognise W.S.C.). The pipeline construction and the acquisition of East Tamar farmland would then be easy.
Dismord
July 1, 2008 at 12:00
Oh how I’d love to see this article published in leading mainland newspapers. No chance of the tame Tasmanian press touching it.
Judith King
July 1, 2008 at 18:47
Good article diminished by some of the language used. Surely writers can get the message across without using words that offend large sectors of the community! I’m not into censorship but there is one word I and many other women hate. What did using it add to the article apart from shock value? Gentlemen please…….
whishy
July 2, 2008 at 12:25
Jarvis, I see investment bankers are now in the business of giving tourism travel advice as well… take this line below from the Gunns Report released by Credit Swiss this week (titled “Not letting the truth get in the way of a good story”).
When outlining the Pulp Mill site is in a “heavy industry zone” (1st paragraph page 10 title “aesthetic qualities†)they then go on to say that even though it will be painted green to minimise any visual impact, it doesnt matter anyway because:
“ when traveling (to Tasmania) we stick to Feychinet, Cataract George and Cradle Mountainâ€..
This is what it has come down to, an investment bank trying to get Gunns business (equity capital raising) giving advice on tourism visitation in Tasmania…Good on ya fellas !!