RACHEL'S COLUMNS
These articles appeared in Rachel's column every Friday in the A3 section of The Age
Kicking up the heels of society
28th May 2004
This week Victoria's own Wonder Woman, Chief Commissioner Christine Nixon, got some new powers that will "compel underworld figures to give evidence and seize the assets of suspected criminals to help combat organised crime." As well as the invisible aeroplane and the magic lasso, Ms Nixon now has some new voodoo that enables her "to force witnesses to give evidence". I wonder what that magic is? And will she be able to capture the members of the sinister octopus-like gang of criminals who seem to disappear into thin air before her very eyes?
Mr. Bracks who also looks terrific in lycra as he zooms across Victoria's skies, helped the cause by giving the Office of Public Prosecutions a $3 million boost to help fight organised crime and corruption. He's talking about a "two-pronged" approach of giving new powers to the Ombudsman to investigate police corruption and extended powers to the police to battle underworld crime. Pronged, shmonged, people are dying and why is taking toys off criminals going to make any one talk?
I'm one of those maligned comedians who thinks the Government should establish an independent commission to examine police corruption and links to underworld crime. I believe this panel should be made up of a bunch of cranky women with the offer of a $3 million shoe-shopping spree. Such a group of could pulverise the suspects into telling them everything simply with their devastating stares. Under skillful cross-examination and the help of good catering, suspects would tell-all and happily be removed from the room cradling their faces in their hands.
I'm suggesting this method of intimidation because I've observed a host of cranky women around the place this week – myself included! But at least I try to stay away from other humans when I'm peaking with crankiness. The other morning, out of patience and margarine, I stumbled into a supermarket in one of Melbourne's leafy suburbs. The clanking of shopping trolleys being pushed by coifed and lacquered ladies was deafening. They wore sunglasses – in the shop, never took them off – are they criminals? Who knows, but they made me afraid – very afraid!
One lady, an elegant blonde with the body of a human and the savage instincts of a Gorilla grabbed my arm as I walked in front of the dairy cabinet. Her grip was tight. "Excuse me dear, I've forgotten my glasses, could you please tell me which of these is a nasty cheese?"
"You mean a tasty cheese?" I said, faking curiosity.
"No, I mean nasty!" She growled and scampered into the mist.
The next creature I stumbled into was a tiny bird-like senior citizen who stood at the deli window pointing at the salads and screaming at the person behind the counter.
"Tabulay, for God's sake girl, are you blind?" Intuiting that the red-checked deli attendant was about to slap herself with a herring, I offered help.
Turning to the customer I said, "Madam I think you mean Tabouli – don't you?"
"I beg your pardon", she snapped crisply. "Around here it's Tabulay and YOU can mind your own damn business!"
Maybe I was in the way of these women getting what they really wanted – company. That's correct, the supermarket is the new cruising venue for singles. One-stop shopping; pasta, dish-liquid, toilet-duck, iced vovos and a partner. I'm told the favored pick-up section is perishables – that makes sense. Supermarkets are a hothouse of secret information. If you're in store and you hear this announcement – "Service 45, aisle 4," it means that an attractive individual has been spotted in aisle 4. If they're drop-dead gorgeous the announcement will continue, "Service 45 aisle 4, mop and bucket required."
Until recently if something was spilt and needed to be cleaned, it was referred to as spot-mopping. But management found that people weren't enthused enough with the task so now it's called, a moment of care. When it comes to organized crime, what we need is a truckload of rubber gloves and a bunch of people to scrub like they mean it. Forget spot-mopping Steve that's only going to remove the scum. We're not talking some stolen office stationary here, this is big-narcotics, gambling, corruption. You need the big guns – a bottle of cloudy ammonia, a box of super-soapy steel wool pads and a tribe of shoe-hungry cranky women.
