Doing The Pollie Jostle - A New Nightclub Craze?

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Here's a last minute special to kick off with this week. DAVID CRISAFULLI has been selected as the Liberal National Party candidate in Mundingburra.

The Kid will take on whoever gets the nod to take over from the retiring Lindy Nelson-Carr - the bird keeps hearing the name Jacobs, but understands its not that Labor stirrer from the northern beaches who has a public profile through his protests about the council's water fiasco.

The Magpie understands the LNP heavyweights from down south - and not just Brisbane - `put the weights on' a genuinely reluctant Crisafulli, who has consistently - and The Magpie believes genuinely - saw his future and his passion for change at the local government level only.

But the political landscape is changing at such a cracking rate, things have descended into a such a mess in Queensland - and timing is as important as perception in politics - The Kid's decision is not only timely, but a major one for Townsville and North Queensland generally.

The Magpie reckons that to get The Kid to alter his firmly held views about his political future, he must have been given more than a small sweetener. The old bird guesses that would be an instant ministerial spot on victory, and at worst, if some sort of well-known last-minute disaster happens and Labor tumble back in, Crisafulli will be potent force inside the shadow cabinet.

All this will have a few Labor folk in a tis, it will start a chain reaction in the scheming and everyday backstabbing agenda around the boondocks. Especially in light of the latest polling by the Labor Party itself, which shows - even before The Kid tossed boater in the ring - that they won't have a hope of holding Townsville or Mundingburra, and Cuddlepie Wallace in Thuringowa is at the moment 50/50.

Now to other matters, which can, given the foregoing,  be read in a somewhat different light to when they were written earlier in the week...

ARRGHHH!!!

ALL RIGHT, OWN UP, WHO WAS IT? Who was the dolt who nudged Mike Capt Snooze Reynolds awake and suggested he run lead a Labor team at the next council elections? Someone did just that recently at local civic bunfight. And The Magpie is unreliably informed that Snooze didn't dismiss the idea at all, as he rubbed his eyes, stroked his whiskers and looked around to check where he was.

So watch closely. Jenny Hill will be. The Talking Mullet is said to be well advanced in putting together her team for a run at the mayoral plush, but if Snooze is suddenly in the mix, The Magpie wants a ringside seat. It will a down and dirty doozy of a main event.

Another re-heated hopeful who won't be there is Tony Mooney. His Radiance is apparently backing away from the idea of another run at the office that was his for almost two decades. And why wouldn't he, now that he has a cushy corporate gig paying more than he'd get as mayor, along with perks that would make a bank boss blush.

In other matters, a new entertainment venture in London bears looking at for a local consideration.

The  Guardian reports that a new nightclub, Maggies, named in honour of its theme heroine Margaret Thatcher, has opened up in Fulham. This acquired-taste venture features murals of Maggie and memorabilia of her 1980s era - tables resembling Rubik's Cubes, signed posters of the period, the owner's personal collection Mutant Ninja Turtles and a mural of Super Mario. But the piece that could be resisted by any sane person is toilets that provide a background of Thatcher's recorded speeches from her best-selling diary, written when she was The Iron Lady in 10 Downing Street. That would certainly promote the purpose of bogs, and help the urge by giving you the …err, urges.

While the two splendid chappies, old school mates Charlie and Duncan from Eton or some such - that being the case, Charlie and Duncan are probably real good mates - insist Maggies is not a Tory club and is based solely 80s nostalgia.

Far be it from some Australian to question the honesty of an Englishman - heaven forfend - but that suggestion seems a little at odds with the multiple pictures of the Iron Lady and a prominent pic of her pollie pal Ronald Reagan. Even a lame nod to the other side of politics is in the form of a figurine of Neil Kinnock, the Labor leader Maggie shredded to defeat at the polls and in his own party.

But it is the club's pricing that gives the lie to Charlie's staunch claim that Maggies is not just for the well-heeled conservative upper crust and their vacuous pals like Paris Hilton.

Bottles of champers signed by Maggie herself are a snip at 5000 quid, the money coming out of a wallet already unburdened of 250 pounds for a table to sit at and a 15 pound entry charge which gets you only as far as the bar serving drinks around the equivalent of $15 to $20 a pop.

For some reason, student, unemployed or pensioner discounts don't seem to be available. The Magpie imagines there won't be too much `May I take your cloth cap, sir, and this lady will look after your backpack - and may I request you wipe your Doc Martens before entering. Check your walking frame, sir?'

But for The Magpie's money, this jolly wheeze by the London chums is a great idea that will surely travel, and opens up a whole vista of possibilities closer to home. Night spots themed after politicians offer lucrative opportunities, and could replace the need for political donations.

Let's see, among those possibilities around our bend in the river.

Farmer Tyrell - the mayor's jumping' joint could be called The Haystack, and will advertise that while there is no door charge, there will be a `reconnection fee' every time a patron wants to make use of the facility. Being the responsible civic leader that he is, Farmer Les will do his bit to curb the epidemic of alcohol abuse by serving only bottled water. Each bottle will cost $454. There will be restrictions on how many a single patron can have, in line with a policy that those with odd number birth dates will be served on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, and those with even numbers on the other nights. Floor staff will patrol the club checking IDs, and issue fines for transgressors.

Jenny Hill: The Talking Mullet could open Hoon Heaven, entry free to anyone with a mullet and/or a hot vehicle, preferably a ute, but modified sedans accepted. For the sheilas, rock and roll hoop skirts featuring lime green and pink petticoats will be required attire, while blokes using Brylcream will get half price drinks, and the first one free to those using Californian Poppy.

Drinks: These will feature whingeing whiskey sour, devious daiquiri, wine made from sour grapes, and muddled-headed martini (all drinks will be self-serving).

Food: Fish fingers, boiled codswallop

Music: Material Girl, Eartha Kitt's old favourite `Who Wants To Be A Millionaire' and Bat Out Of Hell.

Les `Messagebank' Walker - entry by confirmed phone booking only. Given Messagebank's phonephobia for not taking or returning calls, this venture is expected to wither on the entertainment vine fairly quickly - much like Les's revived ambitions to again board the political gravy train. Therefore no drinks or music.

Mike Reynolds: Named Capt Snooze's Slumbertorium, it will be a must for the over-wrought. It will feature Laz-e-Boy recliners, in which patrons can settle back for a reviving nap, with staff moving around quietly, discreetly ensuring patrons fluffy blankets are snug around the neck and gently nudging the owner if he starts snoring too loudly.

Drinks: warm milk cocoa, Mylanta

Food:  Ice Vo-Vos, Monte Carlo Creams.

Music: Barry Manilow, Mantovani and his Singing Strings, and at closing time will hear a full volume `Wake Up Little Snoozey'.

Tony Mooney: His Radiance's place, called Moonbeams, it will feature a continuous loop of Elvis singing Heartbreak Hotel and the Everley Brothers singing `I Want You To Tell Me Why You Walked Out On Me'.

Drinks: Moonshine (named in honour of many fine speeches he made while he was mayor).

Food: the chef is working on a Humble Pie but apparently the owner can't swallow it.

Gordon Nuttall: Entry by slipping the doorman a brown paper bag containing small unmarked banknotes. Activities inside are never revealed although there are strong rumours that patrons created a new dance called `Picking Up The Soap In The Shower', now known as La Bumba.

Drinks: whatever you can get passed the doorman.

Food: A meal of surprise ingredients every night.

And why should this be restricted to pollies. Other public figures could get in for their chop.

For instance, Daily Astonisher editor Peter `Typo' Gleeson could get in on the act.

Following the oft-seen policy of multiple-choice spelling at his paper, Pete's place could be called Typo's, Tiepoe's or Thaipo's - take your choice - with the slogan `We'll astonish you, you won't believe your eyes.' That'll make Bulletin readers feel right at home.

Enough now, it in away to Poseurs' Bar, where the house rules aren't the only things that can be laid down. Hopefully.