G’day, Britannia! Your favourite sunburnt child has done it again. In a shocking fit of political originality, a gaggle of Australian moderates have formed a centrist party. Yes, a centrist party. Somewhere, a golden retriever just rolled its eyes. This bundle of lukewarm poshness, calling itself something like ‘The Sensible Australian Party’ (I refuse to Google it, journalistic integrity demands I remain wilfully ignorant), promises to be the damp dishcloth that mops up the nation’s feverish political brow.
Now, the shock jocks in Whitehall are having kittens. They see this as a ‘Commonwealth realignment’. I imagine gents in pinstripes clutching their pearls, whispering: “If Australia goes centrist, the whole Empire might catch fire and we’ll have to drink tea with sugar.” But let’s be real. This party is to real politics what a grasshopper is to a lion. It’s a noise.
The real risk, they say, is to UK ties. But what ties? The only ribbon still connecting us is the Queen’s face on a stamp and a mutual love of warm beer and cold whinge. Australia has been flirting with republicanism like a teenager with a confusing haircut. The centrist party, in its desperate attempt to offend no one, will probably propose a ‘Republic Lite’ where we replace the throne with a Wetherspoons.
I rang this new party’s head office. They didn’t answer. I assume they were in a focus group, weighing the politics of scones versus pavlova. Their manifesto, I’m told, is a masterpiece of word salad: “We will listen, we will deliberate, we will form a committee to investigate the possibility of having opinions.” Bold.
So what does this mean for the average Brit? Squat. You’ll still eat your fish and chips, complain about the weather, and pretend to care about the Commonwealth Games. The only realignment happening is my liver realigning itself with the gin bottle.
In conclusion: Australia has invented a new flavour of vanilla. The empire trembles. I need another drink.
