O happy day! The time of retribution is at hand. And not before bloody time, I can tell you.
If I could have hugged Detective Chief Superintendent Mal Lanyon of the NSW State Crime Command during his press conference the other day, I would have. Sadly, my ethics about hugging cops prevented what could have otherwise been a tear-filled public spectacle of unrestrained joy.
Mal was announcing the advent of Operation Unification, the latest and quite possibly greatest exercise in utter futility by the cops since their last internal enquiry into their own behaviour which resulted in several promotions following the death of that Brazilian arch-criminal who knocked off some biscuits and then ran screaming through the streets of our law-abiding city in drug-crazed disobedience.
Now in case you weren’t paying attention to Mal’s announcement, let me just explain the most salient aspects.
Firstly, there are, apparently, a shitload of illegal guns around the place.
Secondly, Mal and his fellow police are concerned that these illegal guns are being unlawfully discharged and advised us that there have been “97 such discharges in NSW since January”, some 37 fewer than at this time last year. But he failed to mention any kind of commensurate body count.
Thirdly, Mal allows that he knows “that most shootings in NSW are targeted attacks, often by one criminal group against another”, but fails to explain why no-one is being arrested despite the cops knowing who is shooting whom and why, or how come our crims are such bad shots.
And fourthly, and most beautly, police all over Australia are now going to encourage and rely upon anonymous information from anonymous people to stamp out this scourge of illegal gun discharges.
“We don’t necessarily need to know who you are…as long as you call us to tell us where to find that illegal gun,” Mal’s boss, Asssitant Commissioner Mark Jenkins yodelled.
And here is where I come in.
You see, I have lived for the day when the cops finally decide that Orwell’s novel, 1984, is actually an instruction manual for social harmony. For that is the day that I get my revenge.
From this very evening (and I only have until the June 7) I shall be calling the Operation Unification hotline (1800 333 000) and dobbing in every prick who has given me the shits over the last two decades. That twat at the servo who is always rude to me – he’s certainly got at least three Glock 23s under that rancid towel on the back-seat of his Magna. That nasty fat bitch at the supermarket who scanned my yoghurt twice was certainly packing some kind of revolver underneath one of her giant chest-baps. And every single sack of insouciant shit with one of them My Family stick figure stickers on the back window of his or her car is going fucking down, big time. I know for a fact they are carrying Chinese-made AKs down the freeway. And I’m gonna tell Mal and his mates all about it – from a series of phone booths, of course, because I take my anonymity very seriously.
O joy! O bliss! So many cock-blankets and so little time! Gimme that list of dickheads I hate on Facebook so that they can understand how exciting it is when the Special Operations Group comes crashing through their bedroom window at 4am in the morning looking for the pump-action shotties some nameless good citizen told them they had hidden in their wife’s underwear drawer.
Come on, Australia! It is now open season on every arsehole who ever gave you the shits. That number again is 1800 333000. Let’s roll!