a surplus.... wayne?

A SURPLUS, WAYNE?:

This will not be a surplus budget. Not remotely.

Swan’s figures are predicated on the best of all possible outcomes. Those outcomes cannot possibly eventuate and the next government will need to pick up the pieces... once again.

This is what I think must have happened:

Swan rushed into Gillard’s office, “Hey Jules, I’ve just had ripper of an Idea.”

...“Wot?”, muttered Gillard, not removing her head from her hands.

“Why don’t we say we will produce a surplus for 2012/13?”

Gillard peered from between her fingers, “What drugs are you on Wayne? We are a Labor government, we don’t produce surpluses, you dick!”

“Hear me out Jules. We can do it... well, I can make it look like we’re doin’ it and improve our poll figures at the same time. It came to me when I was having a crap this morning. It’s simple, Jules, we just chuck a shitload of money at the people who used to vote for us!”

“Get ya hand off it Wayne. We’re already $140 billion in debt. Where in hell will you get this shitload of money from?”

“Look at me Jules, look at me... we get it from the people who will never vote for us and give it to the people who used to vote for us... brilliant eh?”

Gillard looked at him, “Blimey, you’re not as stupid as you look, Wayne!”, she said, getting up from behind her desk with her chair still stuck to her bum. “I see where you’re coming from.”

“I’ve got it all worked out Jules”, said Swan, helping her with the chair. “All we need to do is tell a few more fibs and go back on a few more promises. I mean, people expect that of us. Then we rip off the miners, the military, third-world aid and those business bastards. They are all bloody Abbott lovers anyway!”

“Wayne, you are looking more attractive by the minute... I love it!” “Not only that, Jules, the strugglers who used to vote for us are too stupid to see what we’re actually doing. They’ll just take the money and run.”

Swan suddenly appeared concerned, “We only have one problem Jules.”
“Wot”, said Gillard.

Swan hung his head, “No-one likes you, Jules. Even the strugglers don’t like you.... I mean, even my dog starts scratching when you’re on the box. The real problem is we have no-one to replace you with!”

Gillard ruffled her hair, displaying her profile to the mirror, “Go and have another crap Wayne... you’ll think of something.”