You call this a budget?
Bloody hell, if I served up a load of tripe this big at the back I would be tarred, feathered and run out of town.
I’d have to run as it simply isn’t safe driving on most of our country roads – there are potholes out there which could swallow a steer, or small car, without a trace.
And that’s the whole problem.
You can only cut costs so much before you start cutting your own throat.
Out at our place we’ve been hanging around since Anzac Day waiting for the break – and finally last week we got some rain across most of our country.
But much of that enthusiasm dried up when we got the tintacks of the latest Victorian budget.
Now I’m not saying balancing the books is ever easy – if it wasn’t for the missus I’d have been stuffed years ago (but don’t let her know I’ve told you that).
However, even as a tacker at me old granny’s knee, I was smart enough to master one of the cardinal rules: don’t spend what you haven’t got.
And boy, if I am reading all the stories in the papers right, we’re not only spending what we haven’t got, we’re spending money our children, and their children, haven’t got either.
When headlines are screaming about debt somewhere between $180 billion and $200 billion that involves so many zeroes in the end it means nothing.
Governments, and politicians, as we all know, can rarely be trusted and never relied on.
Except to shortchange us.
And here in Victoria, being shortchanged has been raised to an art.
As a farmer, the old Whacker considers himself a pretty self-reliant kind of bloke.
I’d rather rely on the rain than rely on the local member for a good outcome.
But even I am at a complete loss when it comes to figuring out how we will work our way out of this mess.
If those reporter types have done their sums correctly, Victoria has a daily interest bill of $26 million, give or take $100,000.
That’s a 26 followed by six zeroes.
And that’s not even touching the principal debt.
You see where I am going with this, don’t ya?
The bank manager – from the previously aforementioned financial institution – and I bumped into each other at the saleyards last week.
(He was probably keeping an eye on who sold what so he could actually keep track of who could pay back whatever.)
And we agreed we were both seeing this the same way.
The sane way.
It just don’t add up.
We need miles and miles (probably to the 20th power) of roads repaired, let alone maintained.
And that’s assuming we don’t get our fourth once-in-a-lifetime flood in 15 years, which will make things even worse.
At our farm, if the debt level ever looks like it is getting out of hand, we actually do something about it.
We stop spending on big-ticket items.
Unfortunately, at times, it has meant trimming the staffing numbers.
And we start saving.
The last thing we do is keep spending.
I look at some of these projects which Dictator Dan started: suburban rail loops, road tunnels, railway stations.
Just how important is a hole?
Because as far as I can see all we have got is a series of black holes into which we keep pouring money – tonnes of the stuff.
None of these projects is finished; some are barely started, despite having been approved for years.
No wonder Dan cut and ran with an iron grip on his unparalleled pension.
But for the mugs – that would be you and me – there’s nowhere to run, let alone hide.
Much as we might like to.
So I guess we will pay more taxes.
So I guess we will get fewer services.
So I guess we will continue dodging potholes.
And in 12 months I guess we will be right back here, and the story will probably be a hell of a lot worse.
If not, your guess is as good as mine.
