What happened @scottmorrisonmp #thepeopledeservetoknow #1997NRLGF #engadinemaccas #auspol #ausvotes #turdwrangler 📲 @scottie.marsh
In a country in which old men call politicians “dickhead” in the supermarket and deputy prime ministers threaten to kill Johnny Depp’s dogs, it would be easy to assume Engadine Maccas 1997 took off because Australians have a blanket contempt for their elected representatives.
That’s not necessarily true. Bob Hawke, who was prime minister for eight years in the ‘80s and ‘90s, was mobbed by fans everywhere he went until his death last week. Hawke was held in such affection by the public that watching him sculling a beer at the cricket became a national pastime. When Morrison tried to bond with a pubload of people during the campaign, they began chanting: “He’s no Bob Hawke!”
Here’s the “no Bob Hawke” video. pic.twitter.com/2y20eaghZJ— Rick Morton (@SquigglyRick) April 25, 2019
Engadine Maccas 1997 has resonated because it pins something vital about Morrison’s character. A marketing executive disguised as a sitcom dad, fakeness oozes from him. He ends every press conference and radio interview with the phrase “let’s go Sharks,” a reference to the football team based in his electorate. “If you have a go in this country, you will get a go. There is a fair go for those who have a go,” he declared in his first appearance as prime minister. “We have come to have a go and we will get a fair go.” Go ahead and read that aloud.
It’s not a coincidence that Engadine Maccas 1997 takes founding elements of Morrison’s Regular Guy shtick and turns them against him. The football game he was driving home from in 1997, the night he blasted the back of his trousers into brown oblivion? His beloved Cronulla Sharks got their asses kicked.
Something similar happened in Britain a few years back. We have no way of knowing for sure if former British prime minister David Cameron really did stick his dick in a dead pig’s mouth as part of a ruling-class fratboy ritual in his Oxford days. What’s important is that it feels like it could be true. It’s an anecdote that speaks to larger truths — of inherited privilege, of warped rich-guy culture, of Cameron’s fundamental offness as a human being.
In its own own dank, idiotic way, Engadine Maccas 1997 is a political stand. It’s an expression of contempt for someone whose political career has been built on contempt toward others. It’s an attempt to claw a tiny amount of power back from someone who uses their position to crush; who lies ceaselessly. It’s an acknowledgement that we live in a world in which bullshit on the internet can decide elections and wind back civil rights, so we may as well have fun while we can. It’s a concession that the pervading hideousness of our present and future needs the occasional goddamn mood lightener if we’re going to stay alive and sane.
The next three years — at least — will be immensely painful for Australians who don’t fit into Morrison’s vision. They’ve found one small, dipshit way to cope with that pain.
David Cameron stuck his dick in a dead pig’s mouth. Ted Cruz is the Zodiac killer. Donald Trump likes getting pissed on by sex workers. Scott Morrison shat himself at Engadine Maccas in 1997.