It’s not what you thinkler, I’m Big Nathan Tinkler

It’s not what you thinkler, I’m Big Nathan Tinkler
Image: Will Nathan Tinkler be played by Demis Roussos in 'ICAC – The Musical'?

After a few late nights and cases of cider, my old mate Dave, the Central Coast police detective, and I, were well on the way with the script and lyrics for ICAC –The Musical.

In the process, Dave was steadily imbibing, although it only seemed to enhance his quite unexpected creative powers.

“I’ve gotta get another case,” I said, heading towards his garage fridge.

“You private eyesh are all the fuckin’ shame. How can you shink of work at a time like thish. Don’t take on any more low-rent missing person cases, you shtupid marshupial, you’re too fuckin’ good for that … this is going like a bush-fuckin’-fire. We’re gonna to make millionsh and retire and go fuckin’ fishin’…”.

“I was referring to cider, you stupid cop,” I said. “We’ve gotta keep the creative juices flowing”.

Copies of the Sydney Morning Herald littered the table and we had a laptop dedicated to monitoring Kate McClymont’s tweets from the commission.

“Now ash I shee it, Nathan Tinkler ish a tragic character. A huge, huge, man, but doomed by hish many tragic character-type flawsh,” Dave said. “A real, genuine working clarsh Novo-fuckin’-cashtrian electrishan who jusht wanted to do good by hish native town.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just remind me about the tragic Shakespearean character flaws …”

“Mainly, that heesh a forenshically schtupid carpetbagger, ‘tho there are othersh, too numeroush to mention.”

“Right on, comrade. Can we hear Tinkler’s opening again?”

Dave’s finger hovered uncertainly and then stabbed at the keyboard.

This ICAC’s a hijack,

It’s boring as batshit,

They’re just trying to sabotage me.

The Knights wanna to skin me,

The Nats wanna skim me, 

But I’m just a great fuckin’ guy, that’s me.

“Then, the chorush …”

It’s not what you thinkler

I’m Big Nathan Tinkler,

I’m Buildev and Patinack Farm.

Never heard of Koelma, Chris Hartcher’s a schemer,

And I’m not workin’ Eight by Five.

It’s not what you thinkler,

I’m Big Nathan Tinkler.

“It works for me. I think we’ve it,” I said, twisting the top off another cider. Dave picked up his guitar and sang along with himself on the playback:

I’ve got horses for courses,

I get ’round the rules.

I’ve got workers who’ll all give a little.

To get my coal loader, 

Spent fifty-three thousand,

On deadbeats and pricks from both parties,

Free Enterprise Foundation, filched sixty-six more,

Money that walked out the door. 

It was all a huge rip-off, I never got nothin’.

Best pollies that money can’t buy in.

“He was never really a committed free enterprise ideologue, was he?” I mused.

“Capitalisht lootersht never are. It’s not about the ideash. They leave that stuff to the Inshtitute for Public Fuckin’ Affairs. It’sh all about greed. Heesh a Nathan fuckin’ Tinklerite, pure and shimple. I feel hish pain and outrage. You pay and you expect resultsh, right? He paid out good money to politicians and the bashtards never delivered and now some terrible legal harridansh from some anti-corruption thing he’s never heard of are assashinating his character, eh.”

“It’s terrible, terrible. How’s the next bit go?”

Jodi McKay said, ‘There’s no fuckin’ way!

Developers dollars forbidden!’

But Rooz and Tripodi, 

They’re a fuckin’-poor showdee,

They never got through my coal loadie.

“I’m seeing here – entering stage left – a chorus of Newcastle Knights tragics and disaffected Labor Party members. Maybe they arrive in clapped-out old utes, or on foot, ‘cos they’ve closed the railway line. I’m seeing windswept streets and boarded-up shops. But, who do you see as Tinkler?” I asked.

“We gotta get Demis Roussosh, the Shinging Tent … unless he’sh lost weight.”

“It might not be the sort of role he’d think reflected well on him. Performers can be sensitive about these things,” I said.

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