Introduction

The germs – nay gems – of the Jacobite Monarchist League of Eastern Australia were sown at a function held by the Thistle and Spinifex Society in Sydney in February last year. An email list was created, and bulletins and correspondence were circulated. It is unbelievable that there has not been any Jacobite organisation in Australia before this point.

Now, with the launch of this blog, we throw off the cloak of mist that has enveloped us and present our manifesto to the waiting world.

We are not a historical society or a club. We are a political organisation which has the aim of restoring the rightful monarch to the thrones of Scotland and England. We are also opposed to the United Kingdom.

We need no thistled knight, no windy bard to tell us what to do the only way we steel our ship when we anchor on the reefers of life is (a) the Bible, particularly the appendixes, those pale blood lakes…. (b) riding bicycles, tricycles etc… (c) the Red book of Westgarth… (d) the early Beatles songs, the (e) music of Bob Dylan [not so much the words to quote J W Howard], (f) Simon and Garfunkel, (g) Robert Louis Stevenson (natch), and (h) everything else, which includes (i) knowing the enemy… but if you’re a Catholic make sure you confess (and Vickii Verka).

We need no thistled knight, no windy bard to tell us what to do the only way we steel our ship when we anchor on the reefers of life is (a) the Bible, particularly the appendixes, those pale blood lakes…. (b) riding bicycles, tricycles etc… (c) the Red book of Westgarth… (d) the early Beatles songs, the (e) music of Bob Dylan [not so much the words to quote J W Howard], (f) Simon and Garfunkel, (g) Robert Louis Stevenson (natch), and (h) everything else, which includes (i) knowing the enemy… but if you’re a Catholic make sure you confess (and Vickii Verka).

Talk amongst yourselves. Eat a Rhubarb Tart to day. Here is a message from John Omar Cleese captain of the Good Ship Giotto. On Giotto all were blotto fairly falling for the Queen. She was busy sampling quiches queasy after cheese – and I’m guessing all dairy products – right, right? – wrong Floyd, hand over the mike. I’m the MC; I’m Mike Spilligan; you just a naughty midshipman. I outrank you, he said hautily – you are but a army corporal and where more than 3 nautical miles off shore. I can witness your marriage to Martha or Madam, but not to Arthur and Adam – because the Royal Navy has to draw the line somewhere and I draw the line at Esso Blue myself. There’s a cordon sanitaire and no mistake!

Now a musticle interlude: Meanwhile in a laundromat in Little Shanghai: Hair:

What was he thinking this is archaic purge the carpentry pause for applause.

• Johnnie’s in basement working on the medicine
• Bob’s on the pavement with his girlfriend chatting up the FBI stooges
• Terry’s on the booze train, badge lost, laid off, talking about Missile Earth;
• Castro’s in Greenwich Village with Mikoyan the human barometer, the Caucasian fox, the man who introduce iced cream – Yes you heard that right – and hamburgers and…

And the boys played waltzing matilda, as Empress Maud peeled away from the shore, and a Scotsman was grounded for ever, and that it’ll teach him to disrespect nuclear war…

And the captain spoke and they cheered the bloke – but the coking coke and the tears in his ducts – and his ducked bill platypus who’d been shot through the gizzard – and his old pet lizard (blue tongue) and the chainer on fighter and his dear old dead. and his stone faced mum, and the family pooch who’d run away many years ago, but his spirit still lingers over billabong and bungalow. Pease out hombrinos!