I know lots of you think I have the best job in the world.
And to be perfectly honest, it’s not bad. But it’s not even close to what is, in fact, the very best job on earth.
I learned what this job was at an early age. I had just turned sixteen and I had a mate a few years older than me called Anton. That’s not his real name, because for all I know he may now be a very litigious motherfucker and come after me with blood-curdling lawyers.
Anton was what might be called a dilettante. He was lazy, soft, had an expensive haircut, put on airs and graces he had no real need or cause to put on, and he’d somehow landed what I soon understood to be the very best job in the world.
At the age of 20, he got himself into the Australian diplomatic corps, and started his career in Paris. What qualifications did he have? Well, he once helped me break into Taronga Park Zoo at midnight, and was working on an Arts degree. He spoke three languages – but that was no big deal. I spoke four. Lots of my childhood friends were multi-lingual. And, like I said, there was the haircut.
So what did this job entail? I’d had no idea, until I bumped into him a few years later at a wedding. His haircut had got even smarmier, he was rocking a man-manicure, and he greeted me with the fakest imaginable smile and perfunctory, but very professional handshake. He had just flown in from Brussels, where he was now posted as a junior attaché to the Australian Ambassador.
In the five years since I had last seen him, he had lived in Paris, London, and Madrid. He was now living in Brussels, he told me, but he was keen to get posted to New York, or even maybe Washington. He had travelled all over Europe and South America, and he was flying out in two days to spend a few weeks in Hawaii and LA.
When he told me what he did, I was astonished. I thought he might have been lying. You know, gilding the lily, so to speak. But he wasn’t. The prick was just bragging. This was confirmed to me some years later by Brother Silverback, who had served with ASIO for a few years and had occasion to attend various events at various embassies.
“The hardest thing you’ll ever have to do at these things,” he said to me when I asked, “is be able to hold a canapé in one hand, a glass of champagne in the other, and still be able to shake hands with a degree of confident elegance.”
So what did Anton actually do? The vast majority of his time was spent going to diplomatic parties. There was one almost every week. In-between parties, he would do a lot of photocopying and disseminating of various reports that came to the embassy from all over the world. In between that, he would travel, accompanying the ambassador to other countries and going to, you guessed it, more parties.
He got laid all the time. At the age of 27, he had fucked more hot foreign bitches than can be found in the changeroom at a Milan fashion show. He lived in a magnificent apartment in the fancy part of Brussels, and had a wage that made me weep inside. And he kept most of it, because almost everything he did was subsidised or paid for by me, the tax-payer.
Is it any wonder the cunt grinned like a greasy lizard all the time?
Can you understand now why our political trash-rats spend their entire careers angling for such gigs? Trade commissioners, cultural attachés, and diplomats are the so-called “plum jobs” which our pig-troughing wank-socks aim for the second we elect them to power. It’s their reward for serving the country, apparently.
Note the current scandal over Bruz Barilaro apparently creating a wonderful New York gig for himself before resigning as Deputy Premier of NSW.
Recall the posting of that odious sack of cigar-flavoured cholesterol, Joe Hockey – our national pre-Bruz Bruz. Joe resigned from Federal parliament on 23 October, 2015. On 8 December that year, it was announced that he was to be the new Australian Ambassador to the USA.
Our new US Ambassador to Oz arrived just the other day. And we know have our very own Kennedy, Caroline Bouvier Kennedy, the former US ambassador to Japan, is now here, and according to her, very keen to “get to work”.
Her keenness, as she said, is manifested in her blossoming excitement at the return of the US Peace Corp to the Pacific region. Clearly, this big pool of Christ-blasted and CIA-controlled “volunteers” can’t wait to start their work among the backwards Pacific natives who’ve been looking far too favourably at the Bat Empire of late. They will fix that bullshit, don’t you worry about that.
And she’s going to go to a lot of parties, in-between delivering instructions to Albo and his Communists.
There’s a structure to this world, as you know. Power-players like the USA, China, Russia, Germany, and maybe England, deliver instructions to other nations. They call it “diplomacy”, which is really, as we all know, the art of saying “Nice doggie…” to a savage canine growling at you, until you find a big rock and bust its skull in.
Countries like Australia occupy the second tier of players in this game. We do what the big boys tell us. But we do get to tell lesser countries (like Fiji, Samoa, et al) what they need to do to stay in the good books. Then we report back to our masters.
So, in essence, Australian diplomats and their staff – along with bullshit gigs like “trade commissioners”, don’t have all that much to do except run errands for their bosses and go to a lot of parties.
They get paid fabulous sums of money and get to see much of the world, while staying in luxury hotels and being driven around in nice cars. They are expected to stay well-groomed, stay “on message”, not get caught with hookers and cocaine, and be dextrous and elegant with their handling of champagne and tasty snacks.
These creatures create nothing. They do not work, as you and I understand the term. They seem to merely “be”.
How is that NOT the best job in the world?
Subscribe and get to see the real spicy stuff and much more
Boris is a writer who has contributed to many magazines and websites over the years, edited a couple of those things as well, and written a few books. But his most important contribution is pissing people off. He feels this is his calling in life and something he takes seriously. He also enjoys whiskey, whisky and the way girls dance on tables. And riding motorcycles. He's pretty keen on that, too.