by Ross Sharp

In light of recent moves by the current Federal Government to increase the eligible age limit for the aged pension from 65 to 67 and Tony Abbott’s suggestion that the age be raised to 70, the Tongue-in-Chief here at Smelly decided to take a quick gander into his flashy, future-telling crystal ball thingy to see how he’d be gettin’ on at work if he weren’t able to pull up stumps at a reasonable age and spend his twilight years just amiably farting about like he’d planned to …

– Did I leave my teeth in your office?

– I don’t think so. Where did you have them last?

– In my mouth.

– Did you take them out for any reason?

– What?

– Did you take them out for any reason?

– Take what out?

– Your teeth.

– What’s wrong with them?

– Didn’t you lose them?

– What?

– Your teeth.

– Where are they?

– You’ve lost them?

– I have? Where?

– I don’t know. You lost them.

– Who?

– You.

– What about me?

– You’ve got no teeth.

– I know that. I’m old, of course I don’t have any fucking teeth. I have to piss twelve times a day too, you think that’s funny?

– I don’t think that’s funny.

– It takes all of twenty minutes to shake out a drop some days.

– You should see someone about that.

– See what?

– Someone.

– Someone about what? What are you talking about?

– Pissing.

– Why are you talking about pissing? Are you a fucking pervert? I’m looking for my teeth is all.

– I don’t know where your teeth are.

– Why am I here, then?

– You lost your teeth.

– I did? Are they in here?

– No.

– Where are they?

– Where’ve you been?

– Just now?

– Today.

– I work here.

– I know that.

– Where else am I gonna be?

– Yes, but –

– I work here. I’m here every day.

– Yes, but –

– I’m not up the road, am I? I’m here.

– Where else have you been?

– When?

– Today.

– What? I’ve been here all day, how many times I have to say it?

– What are you going to do about your teeth?

– I don’t have any teeth.

– Yes, but –

– I haven’t had any fucking teeth for donkey’s … I got dentures.

– Yes, but –

– Look, see, dentures …

– They’re in your mouth.

– Of course they’re in my fucking mouth. They’re dentures. Where else they gonna be?

– You said you’d thought you’d lost them.

– Lost what?

– Your teeth.

– I don’t have any teeth. I got dentures. I just showed you.

– But they were in your mouth.


– (…)

– (…)

– Never mind … could you take this up to accounts department please, Ross?

– I can’t do steps.

– What?

– Steps. The accounts department. There are steps. Walking frame can’t do steps.

– You could take the elevator.

– We’ve got an elevator? How long we had that?

– About eighty years.

– Nobody tells anybody any fucking thing around here, do they?

– You knew about the lift. You’ve used it before.

– Used what?

– The lift.

– The elevator?

– Yes.

– What about it?

– You’ve used it.

– Of course I’ve fucking used it. It’s over there. How else am I supposed to get up to accounts? I can’t do steps. You know that. Walking frame.

– (…)

– (…)

– Would you like to take an early lunch, Ross?

– Why? What for?

– You seem a little confused.

– Of course I’m confused. I’ve lost my fucking teeth. Did I leave them in here?

Given the potential of such a circumstance to ever arise, the Tongue-in-Chief would like to advise all and any interested parties that he will be retiring at the age of 65 (if not sooner) and anyone who doesn’t like the sound of that can bloody well shove it.