The gospel according to Paul

Sir Winston Turnbull- "after all I am a country member ".

 

Gough Whitlam-"I remember ".

 

Bought tickets for me and the wife, she admired the bloke, so I thought it could be a play she might like. 

Now her hip needs replacing, so the wife couldn't go, so on me own to the Opera house went this backwater unknown. 

 

Trudged through the rain umbrella in hand, found the foyer, took their command. 

 

Into the show, took the wrong seat, met a granny, she was rather sweet. 

 

Spotted a famous face in the isle, disputing about her seat, with a smile. 

 

She was accompanied by a bald man in a very fine suit. 

 

Me in my Levis, not looking so cute.

 

It was a one man play- the gospel according to Paul, 

About Paul Keating,  not the one previously called Saul.

 

Paul Keating, in case you didn't know,  was the world's greatest treasurer. (according to the Euro zone).

 

Like him or loath him in can't be denied, his wit could cut many down to size. 

 

Called the mortician, the lizard, and twat. He was up to the challenge. I can't deny him that. 

 

The show was a cracker.  Biggins did him proud. 

 

With meaningful moments his story explained with vinyl and slides and jokes that outraged. 

 

Turned the tap at time to vaudeville with kicks and twirls. 

Sang like Orci, and was good with words.

 

The humour seemed factual the stories were true. 

 

Beat sitting at home and writing to you. 

 

Soon it was over, didn't seem long.

 

Got out of there like a rocket, had a smoke on the run.

 

Saw the lights,  vivid on display. 

 

Got the train back to me car, six bucks I had to pay. 

 

Back on home turf hungry as a hound, 10 pm, everything's closed down!