You probably heard that, recently, Julia Gillard was awarded a prestigious “Brave Thinker
But, this is nothing new, as, for a long while in Gotham City, she has been famous for her courageous role in fighting organised crime. There, she is called, “Brave And Thinking Woman”, or BATwoman for short.
So, all the skulduggery in Gotham City has been cleaned up by BATwoman. However, a crew of ne’er-do-wells from the neighbouring Canberra City (which is so unruly, it would make Chicago during the 1920’s look like Shangri-La) has decided to fill the vacuum in Gotham City by taking on the persona of the now-vanquished arch-villains.
These Canberra City desperado exports to Gotham City are, Tony Abbott, Scott Morrison, Barnaby Joyce, Julie Bishop and, with her arms perennially around John Howard, Sophie Mirabella.
Now, the Canberra City dodgy imports are in their new Gotham City hide-out, planning how they can fill the shoes of the arch-crims defeated earlier by BATwoman.
Tones: Right, you lot...Listen up, cos we gotta get a few nice earners going here, so that I can start paying off my great big fat mortgage...And Sophie, get off Johnno’s knee – you’ll squish the poor old bastard...
Sophie: Huh! Stuff your big mortgage, mate! What about my great big fat court costs!
Scott: Yeah, and what about my spending money for my next holiday up in Nauru!
Tones: Alright, alright! I get the picture! But, there’s no need to fret, as it will be like taking candy off a baby – the only thing that’s standing between us and a heap of dosh is that pathetic BATwoman – and she’s only a girl!
[Then, at that moment, the gang hear the noise of an old, clapped-out vehicle coming to a halt outside their hidey-hole. After a few seconds, there’s a knock at the door. Tones opens it.]
Tones (sarcastically): Well...well....well...if it isn’t one of Gotham City’s finest – BATwoman herself! I’m glad you aren’t the Avon Lady, cos we wouldn’t understand a word of your sales pitch, as no-one here speaks Welsh-Gaelic...heh...heh...
Scott: And it sounds like they need to increase the rates here in Gotham City to pay for a new Batmobile for you – that thing outside sounds worse than Kev’s old jalopy ute...heh...heh...
[BATwoman is standing in the doorway with an expression on her face that is even more stern and disapproving than the one she wore when Bill the terrier pooped on her new Persian rug. She is carrying her handbag and has her hands on her hips, indicating she means business.]
Johnny (sarcastically): Hey, we better look out, guys – she’ll be pulling out her pack of Weet-Bix soon and we all know what Popeye’s tin of spinach did for him...haw...haw...
Julie: What I want to know is, why the back alley bitch hasn’t curtseyed to us yet...tee...hee...
[Barnaby also tries to get his two-bob’s worth in, but BATwoman can only stare blankly at him, as what comes out of his gob is pure unintelligible gobbledygook.]
Sophie: Huh, I don’t think it’s BATwoman at all! I think we’re in the Upper Room and bloody Col Gadaffi has been resurrected...bwahahahaha...
[By this stage, steam is literally coming out of BATwoman’s ears.]
Tones: Look guys – Peter Dutton was right all along – she’s nothing but an old boiler...hee...hee...
[BATwoman has had enough. She dismissively brushes past Tones, strides imperiously into the centre of the gang’s den and eyeballs the whole sorry lot of them as only a Brave And Thinking woman could.]
BATwoman (schoolmarmishly): And who do you clowns think you are, bringing your bad Canberra City habits up here with you! I’ll have you know, such a sorry lot I’ve never clapped eyes on before! If you think you can fill the shoes of genuine opponents, like the ones I’ve already finished off, then you have another think coming!
[BATwoman eyes Tones up and down, as if this was a Tea Party and he had asked for a cappuccino.]
BATwoman: Soooooo...let’s start with you, mate. By the look of you, you must think you’re The Joker...
[Tones nods profusely.]
BATwoman: Okay, okay...you can stop that idiotic nodding now – I’m not bloody Mark Riley...And, yeah, your big red lips are a dead give-away – you’ll have to stop skolling the red cordial, mate, pretending you’ve just taken some sort of crazy blood pledge...heh...heh...
[BATwoman then turns to Scott Morrison.]
BATwoman: And you, mate, think you’re The Penguin – am I right?
Scott: Yay! Got it in one! How were you able to pick me so easily?
BATwoman: Huh, it was a cinch, mate...The Penguin was a great lover of birds, so the sea-gull droppings on your coat spoke volumes – you haven’t been to Nauru on your holidays lately, have you...heh...heh...
[Next, it’s Sophie Mirabella’s turn to be placed under the microscope.]
BATwoman: And I reckon you imagine yourself to be the new Poison Ivy...Am I right?
Sophie: Yeah, how’d you guess?
BATwoman: Well, it was pretty obvious, luvvy...the way you are pawing old Johnno here, it looks like you are trying to get your scheming mitts on his Gold Card...hee...hee...
[BATwoman then turns her beady eye on old Johnno himself.]
BATwoman: And you, mate, are trying to impersonate Two Face, aren’t you?
Johnno: Got it in one, lady! How’d you guess?
BATwoman: Huh, I can pick a duplicitous, two-faced bastard a mile off, mate! Your core and non-core promises malarkey is a case in point...
Barnaby: Hey, Brave And Thinking woman...if you are such a great Thinker, work this one out for us – if you were going to build a tennis court, when there are also untreated white ants in your house, should you borrow money to do so, or download movies instead of coals?
[Everyone, including BATwoman, stares incredulously at Barnaby, thinking they are in the company of a cross between Confucius, Stephen Fry, Molly Meldrum and Sir Ian Crisp.]
BATwoman (perfunctorily): Erm...The Riddler, I presume?
[Then, lastly, BATwoman turns her attention to Julie Bishop who, defensively, is brandishing those rapier-like fingernails of hers.]
BATwoman: Aha!!! And you, most definitely, must be Catwoman?
[Tones reckons this farce has gone on long enough, deciding the best form of defence is attack.]
Tones: Okay, guys, let’s get her! When she’s out of the way, all the booty in Gotham City will be ours! Charge!!
[However, BATwoman didn’t clean up the whole of Gotham City without having heaps of gravitas and martial-arts prowess in her personal armoury. Before any of the pretenders can raise a finger to tackle her, she opens up her ubiquitous and trusty handbag and starts to unleash her deadly and powerful array of Superhero logistics.
Firstly, out comes her Aboriginal Reconciliation Batarang – that bat-shaped weapon which resembles a boomerang – and flings it at Scott the Penguin. Upon accurately impacting his scone, he falls unconscious to the floor, even quicker than that time on Nauru, when a seagull, who had been constipated for six months, finally was able to do a dump, which landed smack bang on his crown!
Next, BATwoman brings her attention to Julie “Catwoman” Bishop. She pulls her compact out of her handbag and, with the mirror, reflects the sun’s rays shining through the sky-light into Catwoman’s eyes. “Heh...heh...” laughs BATwoman to herself, “this’ll show ‘em the usefulness of alternative sources of energy...Take that, lady!”
Moreover, this so badly and permanently affected her vision that, henceforth, Julie is always referred to as “Stares”.
Then, Johnny “Two Face” Howard cops it. BATwoman, from her handbag supply, pulls out her NBN weighted hairnet. She flings it across the room, expertly ensnaring Two Face within. “We will decide”, she cackles, “who comes to Gotham City and the circumstances in which they get clobbered...heh...heh...”
The next wannabe to incur BATwoman’s wrath is Sophie “Poison Ivy” Mirabella. BATwoman retrieves her MRRT grappling-hook from her handbag, flings and secures it to a ceiling light-fitting, swings on it across the room towards Sophie and judo chops her with her feet! “Huh”, says BATwoman to herself, “after getting my MRRT treatment, her days of gold-digging are well and truly over...heh...heh...”
Then, BATwoman turns her box of tricks on the hapless Barnaby “The Riddler” Joyce. She pulls out her perfume spray-bottle, filled with weightless, but deadly, CO2, and squirts it into Barnaby’s eyes. “Tee...hee...”, BATwoman giggles, “after that, Barnaby will be so cock-eyed, he’ll be driving into every swollen creek in Queensland...”
So, one by one, the pretenders have been taken out, except Tony “The Joker” Abbott. However, having weighed up the hopelessness of his situation, with none of his cronies left on their feet to protect him, he does a runner. He streaks out the door, press-conference-style, and is over the horizon back towards Canberra City so quick, he makes the Roadrunner on steroids look like Methuselah on his zimmer frame.]
Tones’ erstwhile mates (pleadingly): Please...please, oh great Brave And Thinking One...have mercy on our pitiful souls...we beg of you...
[BATwoman, in no mood to give this scurvy mob any respite, pulls out her lippy from her handbag, indulgently applies copious amounts, removes her charm bracelets, which double up as handcuffs, and secures the losers well and good.]
BATwoman (gleefully): Heh! Holy misnomers! That Abbott guy thinks he’s up to replacing The Joker? Well, with the speed at which he skedaddled away from a fight, I reckon he’s more like The Choker...heh...heh...