So he sat himself down at his little PC
He knew genius would flow
But alas, no words appeared on the screen.
“Shit, this is going to be slow!”

He scratched his head deep in thought
Subject matter was the lack
… then the light clicked on inside his head
He had his plan of attack!

“I’ll make the stuff up, no-one will care
I don’t think they’ll call it libel
A totally original effort
You won’t find in any Bible!”

So he set to work with a devilish grin
Invigorated anew
Venom dripped from his narrow lips
Over keyboard his fingers flew

From that day on no member was safe
He had them in his sights
He made them sqirm and blush and sweat
And gave them sleepless nights

He wrote about the President
In fact anyone was ripe
“If I keep this up long enough
They’ll surely believe this tripe!”

He had a go at John Caldwell….
John called him a bloody ****
“I don’t belong to One Nation
I’m the Bungendore Peoples Front!”

Mark needed a kayak to lampoon
“I’ll keep it pretty basic
Just to show there’s no hard feelings
I’ll even criticise the Classic!” (crap)

So he picked on long Mirages
“I’ll make the bastards burn
This’ll serve them right
Because their boats won’t turn.”

Opposition to “Killer’s” writings
Slowly but surely grew
Members had had enough
And some were turning blue!

They even staged a demo
Raging on the street
And burnt an effigy of the “Killer”
Outside the Editor’s suite

“You’ve gotta go,” the Executive said
We think you’d better run
You’re before your time in this club
They no longer think you’re fun!

Marching orders clutched in hand
Mark drove home to Kerry
Unashamedly he sobbed on her shoulder
“I’m not feeling very merry.”

“Do you realize what they’ve done?
They’ve nipped genius in the bud
But I’m not finished yet you’ll see
I’m no flamin’ dud!”

Portfolio propped under his arm,
He knocked on the Liberals door
“Now listen here Mr Howard,
I’m one of your nouveau poor.”

“I need a job..and need it quick
I’ve got a family to feed”
“That’s OK for you mate,
I’ve got a country to lead.”

Mark opened up his folder of wares
And showed it with a grin
“I take the piss out of all and sundry”
(And hope they take it on the chin.)

“There’s no job here for you,”said Johnnie
“With your words all arty farty
If we need the piss taken out of us
We call the Labor Party.”

Mark went home to vegetate
There was nothing else to do
It was quite obvious to him now
No-one wanted his brand of poo.

But meanwhile in the sea paddlers camp
They seemed to have lost the spark
Paddling and camping and all those things
Were no longer such a lark

Membership was down
The editor had lost his suite
Those Patagonia paddling shoes
Were no longer on his feet
The Executive called a crisis meeting
Huddled in a shed
“Something must be done real soon,
Or our lifestyle’s good ‘n dead”

Then one hit on a good idea
“Lets get Killer back on team,
Then hopefully we can at least
Take our coffee with some cream.”

So they all dropped round to Weston Creek
Mark came to the door
Stubbie of beer clutched in his hand
‘Hair dragging on the floor

“We want you back,” they all said
“We’ve been authorised to say
You can write what you like and name your price
And we’re with you all the way.”

We know your stuff  was all said in fun
 Perhaps we did over-react
We shouldn’t be so sensitive…
 “And I shouldn’t be sacked!”

 A smile came to Killer’s face
 His left hand scratched his bum
 At last they could see it was all in jest
 Maybe they weren’t so dumb!

 So Mark continues to this day
 To write fictitious twaddle
 And when he’s feeling down and low
 He sets off on a paddle!

 And you and I should do the same
 There’s a message in there, sure,
 Life’s too short for stress and worry
 And non-paddlers are the poor.