Rise Of The Ranga

It was all very sudden. He was tearful, the coverage was wall-to-wall, twitter was afire and, most importantly, her hair looked fabulous.


According to everyone with a microphone, today was one of the most historical and mesmerizing days Australian politics has ever seen. That doesn’t mean everyone was interested though. Our sitting Prime Minister may have gotten paranoid, accidentally kick-started a coup, been confronted by his deputy, called a party room ballot, decided not to contest that ballot, cried live on every available television channel, then our first female PM was sworn in by our first female Governor General… all in less than 24 hours… but in some places that’s just not exciting enough.

I walked into the beauty salon for a hair appointment and was greeted by the 10 year old at reception I occasionally humour by allowing near my brows (when I can't find anyone who's up for a game of Russian Roulette).

Me: Can you believe we have a new Prime Minister this afternoon.

10 year old: Is that what people were talking about on Facebook? I thought I missed something.

I then sat down in front of my magnificent hairdresser (that rare kind that actually wants you to look better when you walk out than when you walked in). She’s a charming lady, but I always get nervous and begin feverishly reaching for conversation starters as she whirs around me with scissors. Luckily I had a fresh and topical one to kick us of.

Me: So, if you could do anything you wanted, if it was completely up to you, what would you do with Julia Gillard’s hair?

Hairdresser: Who?

Pause as I wait for an ironic laugh. None arrives.

Me: Our new Prime Minister.

Hairdresser: Oh… is that her name? I really don’t pay attention to those kind of things.

And why would you? It was kind of inevitable in the end anyway. I suspect there’s actually a secret society more powerful than the Freemasons, the Illuminati and the Skull and Bones society put together. They are The Rangas.

It’s hard to deny their power when you think about it – history is littered with a veritable who’s who of Ranga members. Van Gogh, Elizabeth I, Oliver Cromwell, Richard Lionheart, Molly Ringwald, Churchill, Thomas Jefferson… the list is endless. The Spice Girls didn’t have a Blonde Spice, they didn’t bother with a Brunette Spice, but you can bet your arse they had a Ginger Spice – why do you think they went on to global domination? Sure they’ve got their misfits, their Duchess Fergies, their L. Ron Hubbards, but Dan Brown wouldn’t dream of touching them for fear of retaliation.

I know some people are horrified by Prime Minister Gillard’s accent – I must admit every time I hear her dulcet tones it still inexplicably surprises me – but in the end it’s kind of reassuring. She sounds more honest, if she were a phony she’d have hit elocution lessons hard 2 years ago. In case she ever tries to play it down, fate gave her a deputy called “Waaaayne”.


“Waaaayne”.


Painefull Out