By Andrew Dyson
September 11, 2005

Malcolm Turnbull is a bona fide dreamer. He has the vague manner of the sleepwalker and his rare periods of consciousness are punctuated by alarming REM episodes. When he speaks in Parliament his fevered reveries invade the chamber, only to be subdued, with some difficulty, by alert security personnel.

Having crafted a republic model that confused everyone and an amusing tax system that recklessly allows for a measure of equality, the original Mr Turnbull has proposed that every Australian be allocated a lifelong email address. This would ensure that publicity-shy citizens can be reached by such long-lost friends as Big Dave, who would dearly love a rematch of that epic battle in the Village Green car park circa 1976, or Easy Wendy, whose troubled teenage offspring has caterpillar eyebrows remarkably similar to your own, poor girl. Your personal electronic pigeonhole would also provide a vital resource to long-forgotten relatives deeply concerned about your failing health and the street value of your chattels.

Most important, a permanent e-dress would provide instant access to a government solicitous of your welfare. It is a sad reflection on our postmodern society that far too many of our isolated people are unmotivated and lack sufficient mental exercise. Mr Turnbull's initiative would let the Government provide them such stimulating brain-teasers as: "What is the exact provenance of the 18th-century escritoire you claimed as a home office tax deduction in 1998?" Isolated unemployed youth could be instantly tempted with exciting government job opportunities in the fledgling Iraqi security sector, and the isolated elderly could be instantly encouraged to collect their coveted gold life passes at the Northern Zone senior recreation and disposal facility.

The ever-visionary Mr Turnbull is also concerned by the fact that most Australians' dreams are not as finely honed or progressive as his own. He has noted, with irritation, that too many of our citizens prefer a shabby dreamworld where they survive happily without the benefit of Mr Turnbull or his insight. To address this national calamity, Mr Turnbull has patriotically offered to share his A1 vision with his inferiors. They merely have to look intently at the antique fob watch swinging idly from his impeccably manicured grasp.

You are getting sleepy . . . very sleepy . . .
