‘Surely that’s done it,’ thought former Prime Minister Tony Abbott as he put the finishing touches on his plan.
The Warringah member’s election strategy developed late last year. Growing tired of unfair coverage of his unblemished record, Abbott decided to hit the surf for a thinky. Though, after getting stung on his massive ding dong by a unionist jellyfish, the ex-PM decided to settle on the couch and watch a movie instead.
It was then that his gay lesbian sister recommended her favourite.
‘Let’s watch The Producers.’
Tony, well aware that musicals were for gaybies, was too exhausted from the CMFEU’s targeted jelly attack to fight back.
As the credits of Mel Brooks’ satirical masterpiece rolled, Abbott sat in stunned silence. This was it. This was the strategy.
‘The Producers’ involved a plot concocted by Max Bialystock to intentionally produce a terrible flop of a show in order to avoid auditing of investments. The goal was to create the worst show ever made and escape from the trappings of Broadway.
Abbott promptly adopted this strategy for his re-election campaign. If he could run the worst possible campaign he would be able to escape politics, collect his generous retirement package, and avoid a thorough auditing of his campaign’s finances.
The plan was going well. Abbott had drafted former popular Olympian and barrister Zali Steggall to run against him, promising to buy her an ice-cream if she beat him. He then made sure to highlight his role in the toppling of Malcolm Turnbull, before acting like an absolute cooked unit at primary schools. ‘You think I like onions? Fuck no. I’m not the Grinch,’ Abbott wrote in his secret scheme diary, that The Obiter found left on Sydney’s northern beaches.
However, despite his efforts, Abbott is still considered an outside chance to retain his seat. ‘Time for the nuclear option,’ Abbott whispered to a lifesaving mannequin he keeps in his shower.
Late last night, Abbott snuck into the home of beloved Aussie icon Bob Hawke and smothered him with a list of his legislative accomplishments. Hawke easily survived that, so Abbott drowned him in a bathtub of sunscreen. ‘Tax that, Bobert,’ Abbott snarled.
Abbott ran home in an impressive 21.2 minutes, before quickly jumping on his Twitter to seal the deal.
‘Libby libby heart, Labby head,’ Tony scrawled onto his PC (Macs are gay). Pressing enter and sitting back with a smile of relief, Abbott knew that this genius move, on election eve, would ensure that his Producers arc was complete.
‘Springtime for Tony,’ he laughed.
‘Springtime for Tony.’
No more to come.