Mike Welsh’s quick quip on the whack Alan Jones gave PM Tony Abbott over the Free Trade Agreement with China during an interview yesterday.
On Monday, sandwiched skilfully and diplomatically between a leisurely lycra-clad 30k post G20 bike ride and “inking” a big fat, billion-dollar free trade deal with our new bestie, China, Prime Minister Tony Abbott answered the summons.
The order had come down from on high, as if from “the headmaster’s office”, and was laced with a “please explain” to and “take instruction” from the man who would, if he could, run the joint.
Master Alan Jones.
How many Prime Ministers in the afterglow of a highly-successful hosting of world leaders, and with an Oxford Blue in boxing, would not only make time for an apoplectic radio announcer but also meekly cop the frenzied on air “dressing down” Alan Jones delivered?
Why does tough-guy Tony, prepared to shirtfront even tougher tough-guy Putin, become a big girl’s blouse in the presence of Alan Jones? Jones’ seething interrogation of a democratically-elected Prime Minister not only seemed to contain very clear directives but also supplied the PM’s responses for him.
“Could Tony Abbott buy a farm in China? No he could not.”
The tub-thumping talkback host accused the PM of “failing the pub test” on the free trade agreement with China. Jones also accused Abbott of selling the impoverished family’s cow for a handful of magic beans.
Jones can mince all the words he wants, but I believe this spat was sparked by his own intense insecurity. A self-doubt which has driven him to lofty heights and laughable lows. Jones is in the habit of waxing lyrical over the depression era circumstances under which his farmer father was dragged up.
“He had no education, no job, no parents, a hell of a trifecta”.
He speaks misty-eyed of drinking from the well his father dug.
On Monday, however, Alan Jones was mightily miffed. Miffed because the man he helped elevate to power via the all powerful airwaves had spent the weekend swanning clumsily (if that’s possible) around in a spotlight he didn’t belong in.
“It should have been me,” Jones must have silently sung.
It appears to this humble observer that Abbott had to be brought down a peg. He had become too big for his boots. This is the Alan Jones’ MO.
Under the flag-waving, hand-on-heart guise of not selling the farm to foreigners, the boy from humble beginnings was reminding not only Tony Abbott but the rest of the mob just who runs the joint.
For those of you who missed it, take a listen…
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