So I pen a few Tweets (yes I like to write them out first so they can be workshopped before they’re allowed anywhere near Twitter.com) about how I think Centrelink could pull their socks up a bit, and the next thing I know they’re threatening to thoroughly embarrass me by telling everyone about that time I had to eat tomato sauce sandwiches while I struggled to finish uni.
Yes, I am sorry to say Centrelink are willing to go so far as to reveal some of the most depraved aspects of my past life, like that week when I’d eat two slices of bread at midday and tell myself it was brunch but really I was trying to make toast count as two meals, all because I was sick for a week so couldn’t make it into work.
I truly hope no self-respecting journalist ever finds that bit of information, because of course they would have no choice but to reveal it, in all its shameful damnation to the rest of the world as an example of how I’m a lesser being because I fell upon some financial hardship in the past through no actual moral failing of my own.
Never in my wildest dreams would I imagine that the public, whose opinions I unilaterally respect and am fearful of crossing, would soon become privy to all these shameful tidbits of my past in the hopes that such knowledge would forever relegate my currently very high position as a fine upstanding satirical comedy writer, while upholding the absolutely flawless reputation that Centrelink always had, and continues to, possess.
I suppose it was my own fault for daring to write such a cutting series of tweets, one, since the cat is out of the bag now anyway, included the phrase ‘Centrelink is a poopyhead.' I should’ve known this day would come sooner or later.
Sometimes I lie awake at night, praying that they never find out about that time I, like a mere wart on the sole of a greater personage, had to re-use a teabag three times for my afternoon cuppas.
Therefore I assure you all that I will be working very hard to never ever have to revisit that most reprehensible period of my life – provided I never succumb to an unforeseen life-threatening illness or injury, am unexpectedly fired from my job in favour of a robot, or extreme weather events brought about by climate change which might mean I will be forced to use a single teabag for well over a week.
I hope and pray that Centrelink could find it in its heart to put revealing these transgressions of mine on hold (where it seems to enjoy putting a lot of things), while I pick up the pieces of my embarrassing past and begin the massively uphill, but still completely fair and just, process of becoming a member of society that should have nothing to fear from such a fine and honourable organisation.