Well, that same sex marriage law makes something else official, then. We really do live in ... ummm, well ... Queensland.

We take a gander at the ins and outs of all that, along with what next in this personal relationship arena. 

Plus Team Mullet ambles onto the stage, but despite the valiant and admirable effort at political recycling, The Moaning Mullet has failed to mention her secret weapon. But The'Pie will. 

And its been the week of endangered species, from Tasmania right up here to good old Godzone aka NQ, with godzillianair Clive  'Teletubby' Palmer scoring the best verbal point of the round.

It's all here in this week's Nest, at www.townsvillemagpie.net.au 

So it's going to be Adam and Steve, instead of Adam and Eve, along with Ruth and Rebecca, Hettty and Betty,  and for the gender unsure, Arthur and/or Martha. 

And why not?

The Magpie sticks to his previously stated conviction that he is all for same sex unions, because why shouldn't those of that persuasion be just as miserable as everybody else. 

There may have to be be a bit of alteration to the standard vows intoned by the celebrant - Do you, John Thomas, swear to hold only the todger of Roger your lodger to yourself alone, and henceforth refrain from widening the circle of your friends - or for the transgenders; Do you, Martha - you are Martha, aren't you? No, not today. Yes, you are, bitch, we agreed, it's the third Saturdee of the month. Oh, all, right, Martha, just you wait until we get home. Oh, Arthur, you naughty dear, I do.

But here will always be those who want more, as The Australian's cartoonist Bill Leak recently pointed out.

  

As a political strategem, this whole exercise was pretty clunky, albeit it with a worthy outcome, but in the end, became an emotive, hokeied-up political distraction. At this stage in our troubled times, it  was a demeaning political spectacle, with a distinct hint of 'as Rome burns'. 

One just hopes that these new categories of couples can get to the church on time on our deplorable roads, in a vehicle fuelled by sky-high pump prices because petrol subsidies where repealed, or on our tilting-too-far tilt trains. And heaven forbid our lovebirds have an accident, there may be no room in hospital, where skillful care - when you get to the head of the queue - will come from nurses, emergency staff and health workers who still have not been accurately paid for more than two years. 

Oh, well, we all get to have our own conscience vote early next year. 

Speaking of endangered species, there seemed to be a rash of them all over the place this week. Down in The Apple Isle, Tasmanian devils are apparently in for a good time, they're going to get a helping hand from scientists who intend to 'harvest' their sperm to freeze for future use. That'll make an interesting entry on the CV, not to mention the YouTube video.  

And on the outskirts of Melbourne, all the talk in the pubs and clubs is about the endangered Growling Grass Frog (true, even if it sounds like sexual innuendo), which has the greenies growling about developers destroying habitat. 

Here in Queensland, it was the supposed mining threat to the Black-throated Finch that had everyone atwitter. Except the miner, one Clive Palmer, who pointed out the land in question was just overgrown former farmland and anyway 'birds have wings, they can fly somewhere else'. That should win a Keith Willams Memorial Award of some sort. 

On the local front, our own endangered species - the Spangled-Throated  Moaning Mullet - was on show during the week. The coming mayoral election could be the swan song for this species, unless it can reach the lush habitat of Walker Street's top floor. This sole surviving specimen is known to viciously attack anything and everything that gets in the way of where it wants to go, even turning on and savaging it's own sub-species Laboratus locallus.

All that aside, the queue for tickets on the gravy train got a bit longer this week when Team Mullet was wheeled out last Tuesday night. Bit of a mixed bunch, from perennial political fringe dwellers, like Alec McConnell and former pizza shop owner, prison warder and union heavy Les Messagebank Walker, to a Cadbury's assortment of mainly left wing females which, according to The 'Pie's informants, range from almost competent to complete airheads.


The 'Pie will take a doting, loving look at all of them in the coming months.

But one name did catch the gimlet eye, that of Adrienne Isnard, who it turns out dabbles in - wait for it - hypnotism. Now this seems an astute move by The Mullet, because if her own droning diatribes against all and sundry don't have you nodding off, then 'shazam' , Addy turns up to help out - 'Your eyes are getting heavy, you are asleep, and when you wake, you will vote for Team Mullet'.

Addled Addy or Hypno The Great?

In a previous tilt at council declared proudly to the world (via the letters column in The Daily Astonisher) 'I've been Magpied'. As the old bird noted at the time, he went to bed a noun and woke up a verb. 

This was in connection with her tilt at council plush back in 2008 as an independent, despite the fact she had been a member of the Currajong ALP branch for more than a decade. She didn't get within cooee of winning a place. A protege of Jack The Jazzman Wilson - remember him? - Ms Isnard somehow managed to become head of the council's City Safe mob, under the good old Labor motto, 'if you can't elect 'em, hire 'em'. After she lost her council bid, our gal returned to council duties only to find - so The Magpie is told - the whole thing so upsetting after a couple of days that she went on lengthy stress leave.

Back then, The Magpie somewhat uncharitably had this to say: ' But Ms isnard's candidacy and her selective presentation of facts is either a case of terminal ingenuous cuteness or a situation of an Addled Addie.' 

The old bird will watch closely to see if he should revise this observation. He doubts it.

Finally, a couple of awards offshore. 

The Nanny State Soiled Nappy and Safety Pin goes to those EU whiffleheads who have passed a law that decrees that labels on bottled water cannot claim that water stops dehydration - or that it is healthy!  If you're selling bottled water and make such claims, there's a couple of years in the slammer awaiting you. Don't believe it?  Look here.

And speaking of water, the Challenge Cup for Enhanced Activity goes to the pommy mob who have invented a hands-free video game for urinals, operated by liquid pressure when having a pee. Video screens have been installed above urinals in pubs and the game is played with selected blasts to left and right while the bloke is having a whizz. Offers a new dimension to the phrase 'playing with yourself'. It has proved popular, and just in case you think The 'Pie is taking the piss, check out this UK press report.


It didn't go unnoticed that the game involves ski-ing down a steep mountain slope ... which is known to all skiers as a 'piste'.

And no, it doesn't seem there will be a female equivalent game, which, if you have to think about it, would be akin to playing darts blindfolded.

Enough, it is now away to Poseurs Bar, where the old bird hopes to discover that rare and endangered species, a horny heterosuxual female. That's not a misspelling, she's a Kiwi, the Aussie variety are a bit thin on the ground nowadays.