Don’t you think it is ironic that a political party named “One Nation” continually divides public opinion? I think they could have chosen their name better. “Divided Nation” is a little too obvious, so maybe something that appeals to their support base, like  “White Nation”, or “I represent 1% of Australians Party”.

Apparently a One Nation candidate in Perth, David Archibald, has released the statement that “Single Mothers are women too lazy to attract and hold a mate, undoing the work of possibly 3 million years of evolutionary pressure. This will result in a rapid rise in the portion of the population that is lazy and ugly.” Well, who can argue with that?

I assume he is talking about women who have never been married, because what if you lose your partner through marital breakdown or loss of life? Does this mean that suddenly you and your children will become lazy and ugly? Obviously, any woman who finds herself single with kids should immediately commit suicide, thereby relieving us all of the burden on the welfare system and future pain of having to look at ugly, stupid people. Perhaps David Archibald is the child of a single mother. That would explain a lot.

Speaking of mothers, did you know that Nanna would hang Mum’s nightie over the heater to warm it up while she was in the shower so that when she put on her nightie it would be toasty and warm? This prompted me to compare Mum’s childhood with mine and I came up with the following observations:

Nanna would make Mum and hot lunch every day and Mum would go home at lunchtime during school days to eat a magnificent Italian feast.

Grandma made sandwiches in bulk, wrapped them in foil, wrote on them in texta and put them in the freezer. My sisters would run to the freezer every morning and get the best ones for their lunches, leaving me with vegemite or peanut butter sandwiches that had been in the bottom of the freezer for 4 years, which, when thawed would have soggy edges and taste like a camel’s butt.

Nanna bought Mum’s jeans at WestCo, which was the coolest jeans shop in Geelong.

Grandma bought my pants at Target. They were usually brown corduroy which went out of fashion immediately on purchase. In those days I was growing upwards and not outwards (a situation which reversed itself after I turned 18), which meant I was forced to wear them for 5 years, so by the time they were worn out they were three-quarter length and I regularly got frostbite on my ankles during winter. To make matters worse she sewed up my pockets so I couldn’t put my hands in them and tear them, so I had nowhere to store tissues or keep my hands warm, so at 15 I was basically a blue-handed, blue-ankled boy with brown corduroy knicker-bockers and a snotty nose.

Nanna warmed Mum’s nightie on the heater so that when she exited the shower she would be toasty and warm, feeling like a baby bunny snuggled up in a cosy little burrow.

Grandma kept my pyjamas in the freezer, then wrapped them in a brick and threw them at my head. (That may not be true, but I certainly didn’t have my bed-clothes warmed for me).