Token political sketch.
[Lights up on table and chairs in the center of the stage. Seated at the table is Kevin Rudd, on the phone.]
K.Rudd: Yes I totally agree. Thanks for the call mate. See you soon. [Hangs up phone.] Julia! You're 25 seconds late!

[Julia emerges from the wings and steps into the light.]

K.Rudd: Please, take a seat! [Julia sits.] I've just got off the phone from Bill Heffernan.

J.Gill: What is it now? Shane Warne is a homosexual? Fuck I hate that son-of-a-bitch.

K.Rudd: Haha, don't we all, don't we all. He was still going on about that 'deliberately barren' business.

[J.Gill stands up, pulls out a voodoo doll, and meticulously tears off its head. Sits down, instantly composed.]

K.Rudd: Yes, I know. But on one point we are in total, adamant agreement. Red hair is a genetic mutation that has no place in Australia's future.

J.Gill: That's outrageous.

[Enter Malcolm Turnbull, hair slicked, grin positively offensive.]

M.Turn: Hahahaha. I agree. The days of the ranga are numbered. They've had a fair shake of the sauce-bottle, above them, naturally. It is now time, Kevin, to develop a plan of detailed, programmatic, specificificificity.

K.Rudd: You're so funny. How are the polls?

J.Gill: You have bipartisan support?

M.Turn: Naturally. As a matter of fact, I've been sleeping with Therese for years. Money talks, doesn't it, Mr. Swan?

[Enter Wayne Swan in a cloud of paper bills.]

W.Swan: It does indeed. Your precious trade unions have crossed you for the 0.2% payrise you denied them and have even drafted a bill. The current plan is to convert UNSW to a ghetto for red heads [Makes bull horns symbol.] to facilitate targetting, capture, and regulation.

J.Gill: You stole that last part from the carbon trading scheme.

K.Rudd: Turns out people are willing to sacrifice global order and sea-level stability for the complete eradication of rangas.

[Julia Gillard stands up and assumes a kick-arse ninja pose.]

J.Gill: You think we'll just accept this. Red heads of the world will rise up and fight! We will never surrender!

K.Rudd: The Heff has a point. Red-heads are a dying breed - this specimen is such an example.

[Julia cracks her knuckles and begins to track inwards. Lights dim in anticipation.]

K.Rudd: Oh will you stop that rediculous postering. Mal, would you be so kind?

[Malcolm Turnbull leaps forward drawing a large Mag-light from out of sight as he does so. He assumes a mirror defensive pose to Julia, now both on top of the table. Julia draws a katana and does the kung-fu 'come here' fingers. Malcolm brandishes the mag-light and turns it on, directing it at Julia. Julia cringes, shielding her face with both hands, then jumps down and hides under the table, screaming "my tan, my tan!".]

J.Gill: Alright, alright, you cheap bastard. We capitulate.

[Lights down.]