One wouldn’t want to make a martyr out of him,
though anti-hero strikes a chord with some – a
Mayor who stands four-square and fat upon the
land he claims is theirs by tenant right – a grand
and eloquent expression of an arrogance which
brands Bob Abbot’s claim audacious in it’s very
least or specious when weighed against the fact
he represents a precious few by tenets of a view
enshrined within amended Local Body Acts.
Bob maintains that Noosa is a special case. Its
residents proclaim it in his lengthy reign as
Mayor. Amalgamate? No way he says – a case of
‘over my dead body mate!’ Mayor Abbot passed
away would still not save the anguish yet to
roost upon a pristine piece of coastal paradise, a
view restrained in truth – they have a cogent case
for wards against the mess which urban
life impressed upon their Sister Shires.
But he really fears their cake would disappear
when bites from ravenous outsiders eat away
the vital substance of their righteous pride.
Noosa’s fame was earned by Bob’s reluctance
to give way on fiscal gain at any cost, he disdained
the leaning to high-rise development, wooed
instead the rich and famous, traded tinsell for
a legacy where only those he pre-approved
could buy or sell within Fat Bob’s domain.
Alas, the end is near. Bob will burn by pyre
upon a beach he never graced in swimmer’s
gear – thank Christ, a sight revered no less
especially by those whose views oppose a
future bearing changes made disgracefully on
years of gross negelect – a future to repay a
sullen debt. But what a useless death. He’d
shame contenders for the mayor in ways
expanded councils are yet to comprehend.
Dear Bob, stand for Mayor again,
represent a balanced man who
fights for rights of all who take
the beauty of our land to heart.
Start by telling how United Councils
can, and will, with your good grace
give us all an even chance...
© 9 August 2007, I.D. Carswell