All these local councils cover various villages and suburbs, all of whom are claiming that they are not looked after, and that the councils favour one part against another. Surely that couldn't be true, I mean the men and women on these councils, after trying to secure the position, notifying the major political parties that they are on the way up and making sure that the council job had plenty of expenses for various important council business, like study tours to the summer resorts to see how to put up beach umbrellas. Even if the Shire they represent is three or four hundred miles from any ocean. Once these important matters are attended to, they will look, at length, to spending ratepayers monies on a few lucky ratepayers.
Bugga Me Bronson reiterated in the pub, of course, that if he was on the council, he would be as concerned about these above matters as much as anyone.
“Ya' mean lookin' after the ratepayers?”
“Na' the other stuff. Ya' gotta have graft and corruption on these jobs so that y' will be well trained for when ya' enter politics.”
No one seemed to argue with that concept, and just accepted Bugga Me Bronson's superior intellect on things in the 'Them' department, because it has always been Them and Us and that isn't going to change.
“The best and only way to stop the suburbs and villages complaining about not getting' nuffin'” Sed Bugga Me Bronson, “Is don't give anyone anything, then they can't complain about someone else is getting' more than them, Hey?”
“So what do ya' do with the money ya' save?”
“Build a bigger, better Shire Office to make it look like the council is doing good, money wise...Simple.” Advised the great adviser, Bugga me Bronson.
One of the biggest arguments in the Shire meetings is the one about who is going to be the mayor. This job, especially in the Outback is not like that of those on the coastal strips, where it is a matter of prestige to be the leader of the pack. The Outback Mayor is most often barred from most pubs because of the fights between him and someone that disagrees with him, which is almost everyone, as far as the average pub patron is concerned.
At the particular council meeting where the election for the mayor is likely to come up, the absenteeism is at a peak, with the fellow councillors being left to decide amongst two or three who had forgotten what that nights agenda was to be.
“I nominate Norm,” Sez one.
“I second that” sez another
“I decline.” Sez Norm, “But I nominate Bluey Jagger.”
“Blue's not here tonight, he is playing darts in the finals at the pub.”
“Looks like your it, Sam.” Sez Bill Bottemly.
“But I wuz mayor last year.” Sez Sam.
“So you are again this year....All in favour say aye, passed, Sam is the mayor.”
“We will meet again in a couple of months to consider our agenda for the meeting after that.” Sez Sam.
“That's it, meeting over...See ya' at the Pub to discuss business, I want an opinion on sumthin' from Bugga Me Bronson.” The mayor knows the ropes and usually wont do anything, if anything should be done, unless he consults with Bugga Me Bronson.