The Collectors program on the ABC has been a favourite of many for a number of years now.
However, the ABC has fallen on hard times and the show has got the axe. So, unfortunately, the three presenters, Claudia, Gordon and Adrian, have been put out to grass.
But, Sophie Mirabella has seen a business opportunity and, in an attempt to establish a Fighting Fund that hopefully will defray some of the costs she may incur due to her upcoming civil case, has convinced Mark Scott to loan her the use of an ABC Community Radio studio to present her own version of the show, now called “The New Collectors”. For the hire of the studio, she is being charged the peppercorn rent of $100 an evening.
Scott “Ban” Morrison is her co-presenter, and, to cut a long story short, Sophie and Ban are to get 50% of any monies that are earned in the show, on items auctioned, with the owner getting the other 50%.
Anyway, The New Collectors is just about to make its debut and Sophie and Ban are taking the final countdown from the producer.
Producer: ...Six...five...four...three...two...one...
Sophie: Good evening, listeners...Sophie Mirabella here...and a special welcome to you elderly types who have lots and lots of spare dosh just burning a great big black hole in your pockets...heh...heh...
Ban: Yes, and good evening, listeners, from me, Ban Morrison as well...it’s great to be here...but, if the truth be known, I’d rather be up in Nauru – I just love the place!
Sophie: And speaking of Nauru, Ban, isn’t it just a coincidence that you have in your hands tonight our first item for auction which, if I’m not mistaken, was painted by your good self...
Ban: Yes, Sophie...it’s a painting I did when I was on my holidays up in...you guessed it...hee...hee...Nauru – you know how much I like heading up there to get away from all the boats...
Sophie: Yes, Ban...I’ve just been looking at your portrait and, it seems to me...and I’m no tech-head when it comes to all this painting lark...but I’d hazard a guess and say it’s probably in the modern art category...In fact, it seems to comprise of a few off-white smears...skid-mark-like, actually...Would you like to describe it a bit more for all those listeners who are dying to put in a bid...
Ban: Erm...not really, Sophie...I think you’ve pretty much summed it up...except to say that the paint was provided by a seagull that perched itself on my head...
Sophie: Wow, Ban, that’s sooooooo interesting! So, while we are waiting for a whole host of listeners to phone in with their bids, and in due recognition of your very cooperative and diarrhoea-inflicted seagull, let’s just listen to Freebird by Lynyrd Skidmark.
[However, by the end of the song, Sophie and Ban are disappointed that her Fighting Fund and his holiday spending-money don’t look like they will be enhanced by any bids from listeners this time. The switchboard doesn’t even register one light. Sophie, therefore, moves on.]
Sophie: Well, listeners, welcome back to our inaugural transmission of The New Collectors...
[Suddenly, however, the beginning of Sophie’s next exhortation to listeners to financially contribute to the show is interrupted by a flashing light on the console. Simultaneously, there is a knock on the studio door, which Ban promptly attends to, whilst Sophie flicks the switch to allow the first caller to speak.]
Listener: Hi there...Sophie and Ban...it’s Tony Abbott here...and congratulations on getting your great new big gig...hopefully it’ll be a nice big earner for you...And talking about earners, my big mortgage is really hurting, so I’m trying to sell a few things, courtesy of your show...So, by this stage, the courier should have already dropped them by...Oh, and by the way, Sophie, I’ve sent my ironing round for you to do as well...heh...heh – only joking, Sophie...
Ban: Yeah, mission accomplished, Tones...I’m opening the parcel just as we speak...So, why don’t you describe the items so that the listeners can decide how much they want to bid...
Tones: Righto, Ban...Well, guys...one of the items is actually a very valuable and historically-significant piece of communications technology...
Ban: Oh...you mean the Mickey Mouse kiddies phone, Tones...the one with pieces of seaweed tied to it?
Tones: Erm...well...but...but...but...Ban...it’s not actually a Mickey Mouse phone...you’ve got it all wrong there...it’s really the Real McCoy boatphone off the Titanic...
[Noises of Sophie and Ban sniggering uncontrollably in the background.]
Sophie: Erm, Tones...any chance of you sending in an inventory describing the Titanic boatphone and the other interesting items you’ve sent in this evening?
Ban: Yeah, we need something written down, as everybody knows your track record on the Gospel Truth and carefully scripted remarks...hee...hee...
Sophie: So, what else have you sent in, Tones – tell the listeners about the complete gamut of goodies on offer...
Tones: Righto...as you can see, Sophie, I’d like to auction a few of my academic scrolls...like my People Skills Diploma...
Ban: Yeah, that’s the one you got from Rupert Murdoch University, in recognition of your brilliant negotiation efforts with the Indos, isn’t it...hee...hee...
[A long silence ensues. Sophie and Ban cannot obviously see him, but Tones is nodding bizarrely and staring menacingly at the phone.]
Sophie: Erm...Tones? You still there, mate?
Tones (petulantly): Yes, and as I was saying...I’ve also sent in for auction another item from my academic portfolio...
Sophie: Yeah, that would be this rather thin publication, for which...errr...let’s see...you got a Masters Degree...in Pathological Studies, no less!
Tones: Yeah, that was for the thesis I wrote on how Bernie Banton wasn’t pure of heart...
[The switchboard still hasn’t lit up with any calls from prospective bidders, so Sophie moves things right along, in the hope that some offers will be made, and she will get her 50/50 cut.]
Sophie: Righto, Tones...anything else you’d like to offer the listeners tonight?
Tones: Yeah, there’s the fish I kissed the other week...have you found it in the parcel?
Ban: Erm...I think it’s found us, mate...pheew! It doesn’t half stink! Smells worse than your budgies, mate, after you’ve been wearing them for a month! Euuuwwww!
Tones: And then there’s an autographed copy of my Battlelines book...
[At this point, one of the switchboard lights kicks in and another knock is heard at the studio door. Whilst Ban gets up to see who’s there, Sophie answers the caller, who speaks with a distinctive, dusky, male, North African voice.]
Caller: Hallo, infidels...It is I, Col Gadaffi here...I would like to make an offer on your Battlelines book...You see, militarily, things aren’t going too well for me, so I want to read your magnificent book to get some ideas on how to drive these treacherous rebels and their foreign mercenary collaborators out of my country...
[“Col Gadaffi” is interrupted abruptly by Sophie.]
Sophie: Right, Jooles...you can stop it right there...I can spot your corny Col Gadaffi impersonation a mile off...
[Loud guffaws are heard from a raucous group on the other end of the line. And Sophie has got it in one. Julia Gillard, Wayne Swan and Kevin Rudd are still celebrating Swannie’s recent gong from Euromoney magazine. In fact, Kev hasn’t been as pissed since that outrageous night at the Scores Club.]
Kev: Good evening, Sophie...I hope our parcel of valuable items for auction has arrived – the gold teeth, diamonds, antique chamber-pot and Grecian urn, etcetera, etcetera...
[Ban has just opened the box and is laying all the items on the bench in front of their microphones. Sophie’s usual gut reaction to offers from lefties is to tell them to get stuffed, but the mention of diamonds, etcetera, and the ongoing realisation of her precarious pecuniary position causes her to have second thoughts.]
Kev: So, Sophie, your listeners might like, firstly, to put in bids for the gold teeth...
[Sophie takes hold of what looks like an ancient set of dentures, with gold fillings encased within. Upon closer inspection, however, a look of absolute revulsion comes over her visage and she drops them quicker than Tones drops the s***-word.]
Sophie: Euuuwwww! They’re disgusting! Why, they’re not gold teeth – they’re just covered in yucky yellow stains!
Kev: Oh, what a bummer! And there was I thinking they were real gold teeth...I guess my old grandad was too poor to afford Steradent tablets...hee...hee...
[The sounds of uproarious laughter resounds across the airwaves to the studio. Again, understandably, no listeners are interested in wasting their folded stuff with a bid on such rubbish.]
Swannie: Hi Sophie...the universe’s best Treasurer here...hee...hee...Have you come across the diamond in the box yet? I reckon it’ll fetch a big price from your listeners...
[At the mention of diamonds, Sophie’s ears prick up . After all, you know what they say about sparklers being a sheila’s best mate. With fingers trembling in anticipation, she opens the box. However, what she witnesses is far from being a diamond.]
Sophie (screeching): Why, it’s nothing but a dirty big lump of coal, you bastards!!! Who in their right mind would be dopey enough to bid for a freakin’ aggregate of anthracite, ffs!!!
Swannie: Yeah, that was a bit slack of us...hee...hee...But Sophie, why not just see it as a long-term investment – get Joe Hockey to sit on it for a while and eventually it’ll turn into a diamond...heh...heh...
[Again, much merriment is heard from the other end of the line.]
Jooles: Sophie...it’s Jooles again...have you come across the antique chamber-pot yet – I reckon it’ll fetch at least a couple of thousand tonight...
[The only object Sophie can see that resembles anything like a chamber-pot is a cheap plastic container with a lid. It is labelled: “Poodle Poo Catcher”. However, upon opening the lid, to her disgust, Sophie spots a turd inside. She immediately freaks out, screaming that she hasn’t been as affronted since that cow, Belinda Neal, proffered her best wishes on her forthcoming motherhood.]
Jooles: Oh, don’t be such a drama queen, Sophie...Tim bought it for the new poodle coming along, and the turd is only a plastic one he got from the joke shop...
[Again, no bidders phone in and the evening looks like being a total financial disaster for Sophie and Ban.
Then, Sophie notices a sauce bottle included with the useless leftie job lot. But, before Kev can tell her it’s an ancient urn containing the cremated ashes of WorkChoices, and she should give it a fair shake, Sophie gives their line the flick and chucks all their stuff in the bin where it belongs.
Still, no callers ring in. Then, after a while, another knock comes on the door, and the courier says he is delivering a chequered flag. “Hmmm” says Sophie to Ban. “I wonder what’s going on here?”
Presently, a bulb illuminates on the switchboard. Sophie eagerly flicks the switch to “on”.]
Caller: Hi Sophie...it’s Andrew Bolt here...I see you’ve got a court case of your own coming up...I hope you have a bit more luck than I did...
Sophie: Yes, Andrew...I was sorry to hear about that...So, what’s the story with the chequered flag? I hear you were racing in the Melbourne Grand Prix today...does this mean you won the race?
Andrew: Erm...not exactly, Sophie...In fact, my car stalled at the start and I was still stuck there when the winner, Pat Eatock, crossed the line... I was having such a cry, the guy with the chequered flag gave it to me so that I could dry my eyes...So, I’m putting it up for bids tonight, in the hope that I can pay off some of the court costs...
Sophie: Yeah, Andrew...I’m sorry to hear about your predicament ...but I’m sure you’ll agree with me when I say that Eatock and her mates should, in good conscience, ring up and put in a big bid for the chequered flag – after all, it’ll really suit them, as, like them, it’s not sure if it’s black or white...heh...heh...
[Predictably, no bids are offered for Andrew’s chequered flag. So, the Producer puts Sophie and Ban out of their misery by calling a halt to proceedings. As the Producer starts to switch off the studio lights, Sophie has a last wistful glance at the blank switchboard. “Huh” she says to herself, “Andrew’s flag might be neither black nor white, but, after this evening, I’m even more in the red...Sheesh!]
Producer: There’s no point in staring at the switchboard, love, hoping it’s gonna light up...There’s as much life about it as there is in Joe Hockey’s great big black hole...heh...heh...
[And, to add insult to injury, as the Producer shoved Sophie and Ban out the door, she could have sworn he muttered under his breath, “I wouldn’t waste diamonds on this lot; talk about throwing pearls before swine”.
“Cheeky bugger”, thought Sophie to herself. “He and his sort are definitely for the chop when we get back in”]
