Some of you might even, in years to come, reminisce about where you were and what you were doing when you first heard that the South Australian Premier once had sex on a yellow couch with a barmaid. True masochists will have instant recall of the lurid details of the seduction.
One is sorely tempted to send the barmaid a curt note along the lines of: "You had us when you said 'sex'".
Details were an unnecessary burden on an unwitting public. "Sex" "we had" ... "mumble, mumble".
Really, that would have been sufficient. More than sufficient.
Ms Chantelois said she was speaking out because:
‘‘I couldn’t go to my grave with these lies’’.
Err, well, yes you could have Ms Chantelois, you really, truly could have.
Indeed, one is inclined to suggest that there were no lies threatening to share her grave.
The four primary parties, were, we gather, reasonably well acquainted with the mundane details of sex between consenting adults, even if not thoroughly familiar with the color of the couch on which sex was performed. If there were lies, whatever their scale, one still feels strongly of the mind that those lies were of her own making, her own volition, her own burden, and, well, hers to hold near till the end of her days, and beyond.
Four years after the end of events, four years after she last saw him, Ms Chantelois is suddenly miffed that Premier of South Australia, Mike Rann might have treated her a little shabbily after ending their two year long sporadic sexual encounters.
Either Rann is one hell of a good lay, or that’s one ludicrously delayed reaction to being used for a quick shag by the golf course before Rann headed back to his day job running the state.
As always, there’s an incessant bleating from journalists about truth-telling. It’s NOT the sex that bothers them, no really it isn’t, it’s all about the TRUTH. Because, you know, in politics, as in life, the TRUTH is all that matters. Which is a big fat LIE.
If Rann or any other politician told us the truth about anything, let alone their sex lives, we’d have their guts for garters, and there’d definitely be tears before bedtime.
Dying without telling the world that she’d had sex with the Premier wasn’t Ms Chantelois only concern. She also wanted to tell her estranged husband the TRUTH about what had happened all those years ago.
Clearly, she’s never heard of the telephone, or Australia Post, or maybe she could have called around to his place with a bottle of scotch, plied her hubby with alcohol and told him all about the yellow couch. It would have spared the rest of us. It sure as sugar would have spared her children knowing when, where and how their mother was bonking-on. Bad enough for us, but imagine being them. Icky-ooh.
But wait, there’s a third reason for sharing dirty undies in public: the barmaid doesn’t think Rann should be premier.
‘I don’t think he should be premier, it’s time he took responsibility for his actions.’’
Having sex, in general, doesn’t normally preclude one from occupying a responsible job or from responsibly carrying out one’s job. At least not yet. Although the more prurient among us might wish it was otherwise.
It turns out that estranged husband, Richard Wayne Phillips, who has spent four years seeking, and failing, to get retribution, also doesn’t think Rann should be premier, having called for an inquiry into Rann. More specifically, we assume, an inquiry into one man’s mundane sexual activities.
The closest Mr Phillips has come to his longed-for showdown was whacking Mr Rann over the nose, a few weeks ago, with rolled up wine magazine, an action for which he has been charged.
Surely Phillips and Chantelois could have simply expressed their displeasure by voting Liberal at the South Australian election next year? They each have one vote, and I’m happy for them to use their individual votes to not vote for Rann. Most of us manage to express our voting displeasure in the voting booth without so much as a whimper. Really, they could have done the same.
I tried being outraged by a politician having sex with an age-appropriate consenting adult of the opposite sex, but it was hard work. Really hard work. Mustering up an interest in politicians having sex at the best of times is, well, a bit icky.
As for Ms Chantelois not wanting people to feel sorry for her: don't worry luv, I don't, I truly don't.
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