Ho, fellow conservative Australians, and welcome to this, the foreword to Cory Bernardi's new book. I would like to thank the good senator for inviting me to write a few words but, even more than that, I would like to express my heartfelt appreciation for the very large cheque which made my contribution possible.

Like many of the hundreds of Australians who have rushed online to review The Conservative Revolution, I cannot admit to having read it. Unlike them, however, I have enjoyed spending the funds provided by the cabal of multinational mining companies, merchant banks and tax-exempt mega-churches that have endorsed and possibly funded its publication and my latest beachfront property.

Illustration: michaelmucci.com

While never having had the pleasure of meeting the senator, who must be very careful about his public movements given the insensate rage he seems to inspire in the lower orders when about in public, I can assure you that I like the cut of his jib. One only has to gaze into the fathomless depths of his black eyes to know that here is a fellow ready to light a fire under the feet of a complacent nation, or to use a white-hot poker on those unprotected feet, or even a handy pair of pliers, should lighting a fire prove inconvenient because of ill-conceived environment legislation.

My fellow conservative Australians - and we are all conservative Australians now, thanks to the courageous legislation promoted by Senator Bernardi to strip away the citizenship from anyone who isn't conservative and even from those who'd mask themselves as conservative when we know, in fact, that some are really about the gay marriage because they secretly want to force everyone to share their secret and shameful and intriguing lusts. My, er, fellow conservative Australians, we must heed the warning of Cory that the moral relativism of the left threatens Australia's way of life. Why, if these lentil-eating monsters had their way, it would be illegal for a fellow to whip the wretched Chinaman at the steam laundrette for putting too much starch in his dickie, to correct one's bothersome wife with the back of one's hand, or even to launch a punitive raid against the natives, should they threaten to breach the boundaries at the edge of settlement with their gibbering demands to not be shot or poisoned or run off their so-called ancestral lands.