Bert Kelly, “Down hill, in circles, all the way,” The Bulletin, September 8, 1981, p. 114. Reprinted in Economics Made Easy (Adelaide: Brolga Books, 1982), pp. 206-08, as “Charabanc (c).”

Last week we left the Australian Car Industry charabanc coasting along, with all its occupants arguing furiously with one another. We didn’t seem to be getting anywhere either, I think we were mostly travelling in circles.

There was a nasty incident when the G.M.H. driver in the front seat became angry because he seemed to think that he might not be allowed to reach his “world car” destination. He called back angrily to Sir Phillip Lynch, saying that if he did not get what he wanted, he would get out and go home. I presume that this was meant more as a threat than a promise but it was received with glad acclaim by almost everyone, particularly by the four other drivers in the front seat. The G.M.H. man, a bulky bloke, took up so much room, the others hoped he would indeed go home and so leave them more room for their elbows.

We met a lot of people as we went along. Some were glad to see us, others threw stones. Then Fred the farmer flagged us down. He was having trouble with his bike. When he found out who we were he turned quite nasty. He said he had three weighty reasons for hating the car industry. First, he had more need of a car than city slickers because he lived twenty miles from the nearest town and so had to travel further and over rough roads too, so his car wore out quicker than a city person’s car. Secondly, because he had been listening to Eccles, he knew that the burden for protecting all industries, cars, sheets, the whole lot, was carried by exporters in the end. And as he is an exporter, he resents having to carry his share of the $6000 million annual cost of the Australian tariff. But what made him even madder was the knowledge that any barrier to imports, such as a tariff against cars, pushed our exchange rate even higher, so making the position of exporting farmers more difficult. I can see now why Fred hates the car industry as he does.

I would have thought that this recital of Fred’s woes would have filled everyone with remorse but only the car users seemed to care. The Victorian and S.A. ministers turned nasty and said that Fred had no right to an opinion of his own and there weren’t many of him anyway, and would he please get out of the way before he was run over.

One of the older car users, the one with the water bag, muttered that, if that was the treatment being dished out to farmers by young Liberal ministers, then he was going to his Country Party M.P. back home. But a younger car user from Canberra explained to the nice old chap that the Country Party no longer cared much about farmers and that was why they wanted to change their name to the National Party.

Anyway, we left poor Fred patching his bike and on we went. The next man to stop us was Chris Hurford, the Labor Party spokesman on these matters. He mopped his patrician brow, then volunteered to get in the back seat and help Sir Phillip drive. He also asked us to employ a friend of his, Con Sensus I think was his name. Evidently he is some kind of consultant.

There was some discussion about whether we should let Mr Hurford get in but they finally decided against it. Too many had been in the industry when the Labor Party were driving it and they didn’t want to go through that mangle again. A car owner, who was beginning to take a jaundiced of the outing said sourly, “Surely everyone now knows that the government couldn’t even run a beer-up in a brewery.” This attitude saddened the Victorian and S.A. ministers who had once been Liberals. This didn’t seem to worry Sir Phillip much. I think he may have been asleep at the time.

So we left Mr Hurford behind and continued on our way. We came to some desert country and out of the bushes came a gaunt figure clothed in sackcloth and ashes. He stood in front of us intoning, “Make straight the way of the Lord! Follow the steep and narrow path of economic righteousness” as he pointed to a steep and fairly rough path up the hill. (He was evidently one of the I.A.C. commissioners). As the charabanc was only built to go down hill, this advice was not very welcome, though the car users said that it was the only sensible statement they had heard all day. They were all for giving the gentleman a lift in the hope he could talk sense to others.

After a lot of muttering, the others agreed to this. When they got the poor man aboard, they began to torture him by sticking pins in him and hitting him with their coshes. The car users were furious but no one worried what they thought. The others kept torturing the poor commissioner because he had the nerve to tell them what they did not want to hear. I thought Sir Phillip would be cross about this but he didn’t seem to care, he just sat there scratching himself. People say he is very wise and brave so I guess he is about to do something soon.

Just as I thought this, Mavis threw her bucket of water over me. She should have done it before.