Bert Kelly, “A charabanc called protection,” The Bulletin, August 25, 1981, p. 104. Reprinted in Economics Made Easy (Adelaide: Brolga Books, 1982), pp. 200-03, as “Charabanc (a).”

As I get older, I keep having visions in the night but Mavis calls them nightmares. She attributes them to advancing senility and she now puts a bucket of water alongside her when she goes to bed to tip over me if my dreams get away from me.

My latest vision concerns a charabanc. That dates me because only people of my advanced years have even seen one. For the benefit of the younger set, it is a kind of elongated touring car, with each compartment separate from the others, with separate doors on each side. It is the kind of vehicle in which football clubs of my generation used to make end of season trips to the beach, with everyone exchanging jokes with each other and with people we passed, particularly pretty girls. They were much more fun than modern buses.

This particular charabanc was wider in the middle than at either end and it had six compartments which made it so long that it seemed in danger of breaking its back. It had the sign “The Australian Car Industry” boldly printed on each side.

When I saw it first, Sir Phillip Lynch, the Minister for Industry and Commerce, who seemed to be in control of the outing, was fussing around allocating seats for everyone. The front seat was given to the five car manufacturers. They each had a steering wheel of their own, but no accelerator or brake. They were very cramped as there was really only room for two of them, so they had to keep their elbows well tucked in like the official guests at a country show luncheon. They frequently stood ostentatiously to attention to salute the free enterprise flag that stood proudly over them. Across the instrument panel in front of them was a notice in very small print which said, “The government got us into this mess, the government will have to get us out of it.” They all spoke with foreign accents, Japanese or American. We couldn’t hear what they said when they muttered between themselves, but all their public statements were couched in very respectful language, particularly if talking about the government which they really loved, at least, just at the moment. Every now and again they would burst into a well-rehearsed anthem which began “Round and about and underneath us are the government’s everlasting arms. The government will guide us to the promised land.” It was moving stuff. It would have been even better if the government had not made such a mess of the other industry outings.

The next compartment was a big one and contained the car assemblers, the component manufacturers and the importers of cars and car components. There was a lot of argument in this group even before we got started.

Sitting behind these were the union officials. These did not say much, they just sat there with their coshes handy, ready to clobber anyone who showed signs of enjoying themselves by making a profit or something. They knew that they had only to huff at State or Federal governments and these would give their milk down. They had a particular hate for the car users.

The car users sat just behind them and a poor motley looking mob they were. It was clear that they had been bled white for years. A big chap with a top hat and a gold watchchain with a Royal Automobile Club badge on it tried to get into their compartment to represent them, but they said they would prefer someone with more fire in his belly. Then a leaner bloke came past, saying that he represented the Car Owners Association. They welcomed him aboard.

The next bench was occupied by State ministers. These had with them bound volumes of some of their better speeches and were ready, without encouragement, to give us a rendition. The Victorian and South Australian ministers talked louder than the others, but they didn’t mention free enterprise much, though they both claim to be Liberals. They explained to me afterwards that they kept their belief in free enterprise fresh and shiny, ready for elections.

The back compartment was reserved for Sir Phillip Lynch. He had a bigger steering wheel that over-rode the ones of the five manufacturers in the front. He also had a handbrake to himself and an accelerator, but this didn’t seem to work.

After he had everyone seated in their proper places and had tried to make them shut up, Sir Phillip made a perfectly splendid speech about his dedication to the cause of free enterprise, followed almost by a page about the wickedness of protectionism. I found out later that he had lifted this from one of Mr Fraser’s overseas speeches. He told us that from now on everyone was on his own and he wasn’t going to interfere any more. Then he ostentatiously took his hands away from the steering wheel, took the handbrake off, and away we went. What happened then must wait till next week.