Righteous Rightie counsels right-thinking folk on how to endure a Christmas lunch infested with mindless progressives.
Dear RR – Though raised in the Inner West I lurched to the right after taking up taxi driving following the realisation it was the only job a BA in post-colonial Papua New Guinean literature had prepared me for. Anyhoo, at family lunches full of socialists on six figures I feel just like Piers Ackerman must sitting on the Q&A panel surrounded by touring Swedish feminists, Greens senators and Fairfax ‘commentators’. What to do when talk turns to politics?
RR replies: You’ll no doubt have family members aware of your rigorous intellectual independence begging you to, “Behave civilly because this could be Grandma Ethel’s last Christmas.” Ignore these pleas and go for the jugular as soon as you take your seat with an opening remark along the lines of: “Aren’t we all glad to see the back of that uppity communist terrorist Mandela? And isn’t 2014 looking to be a cracker? Personally, I can’t wait till all those underworked, overpaid bludgers at Holden, Qantas and in the public service get thrown on the scrapheap and illustrate the inevitable consequences of allowing corrupt unionists to run amok and set a minimum wage so far in excess of what Vietnamese coolies in the Nike sweatshops are deliriously grateful to receive. It’s about time this country hardened up. Now pass the prawns!”
At this juncture your polyamorous lesbian aunt will no doubt want to have a fact-laden ‘rational debate’. This is a leftist trap that should be avoided at all costs. When challenged, discredit your insolent questioner by bringing up painful family secrets (“Did you ever hear that rumour about your mother being adopted?”) and insisting they are a smug elitist out of touch with the decent mainstream Australians who vomit up Bundy and coke in your taxi every night. And if that doesn’t silence them, start a fistfight.