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Sex, Politics and Hotmail: Chapter 15: Olivia’s Pet Refugee

A Tale of Two Women and their Push Up Bras

In a country not that far away, at a time not very long ago, a nerd with time on her hands hacked into the email accounts of two well-known women. She passed the shocking results on to a friend..who passed them on to a friend…who published them on this blog.  Can you guess who these women are?

THE STORY SO FAR….(Chapters One to Fourteen)

Rose is about to explore the spiritual side of wanking.  Meanwhile, Olivia and Moira are doing great things in their capacity as electoral office assistants to the great Clive Hamilton-Hogg.

Oh guess what, Moira and I seem to have made a sort of friend!  Last week while Clive was in Perth this Vietnamese doctor – not a medical doctor, a PhD that is – turned up at the office and he’s been here ever since.  I mean not literally, obviously, I expect he has a home to go to but you wouldn’t think so, considering how often he pops in.  Moira says he probably has the hots for one of us.

The poor man has been trying to obtain permanent residence here, but the department of immigration keeps refusing and telling him he has to go back to Vietnam as Australia needs more hairdressers and chefs, not bacteriologists.  This doesn’t seem logical, does it! After all if there are so many hairdressers why does it always take two weeks to get an appointment?  I ask you!

He is quite desperate and sits in the waiting area day after day, insisting that he wants Clive to appeal personally to the Minister. He knows Clive is in Perth because it’s a sitting week – but that doesn’t stop him coming in and waiting around like a little lost dog!

We offer him cakes and lemonade to keep his spirits up – Moira is so sweet, she makes the most delicious tiramisu – and he tells us stories about South Vietnam in the good old days, when the French were in charge and you could buy croissants for breakfast in Saigon. I don’t know why some people disapprove of Asian migration.  He’s so grateful and well-mannered, I wish there were more like him!

Clive is a Vietnamese war veteran, apparently, and I’m sure he will try to do everything in his power to help, when he gets back.

Steve’s not feeling well.  I’ll have to take time off to take him to the doctor.  Such a bother.  The poor thing suffers dreadfully from hypochondria.

Sorry to hear poor old Steve’s crook – again!  Have you thought about hiding the Medical Family Handbook? Might save you a packet in medical bills?


You know it’s wicked what Mr Tran has been through.  The Immigration Department has been shockingly mean to him.  Especially considering how well educated he is. I mean, a PhD – he’s not exactly going to lower the IQ of the nation, is he.  But Immigration say he’s too old.  He’s only 41, for god’s sake.  And you know how Asians don’t age as we do, probably we should calculate their age differently, the same as one does for pets – that sounds awful doesn’t it.  But it makes perfect sense when you think about it – for instance we could count fifteen Asian years as ten European years so if you look at it like that, Mr Tran is really only in his twenties.

Of course we must protect our borders and so on.  But not from people like Mr Tran.  Or Clive’s nice Asian wife.  I don’t know why immigration can’t be more discriminating, you’d think they couldn’t TELL a civilized person from a terrorist!

Moira agrees with me. I find Moira agrees with me about most things, that’s so refreshing really.

You two sound like a match made in heaven. Maybe you should divorce Steve and marry Moira.

I dunno about terrorists but I reckon they should let more men in. There’s not enough blokes here as it is, it’d be so much easier for us single women if they let in a whole crowd of guys from like, Denmark or somewhere, shake up the competition.  Plus I don’t think they should let in any more Thai girls, that’s just common sense when you think about it.

How’s Steve now anyway?  What did the doc say?

Just back from the proctologist!  Nothing too serious.  Steve thinks he may have irritable bowel syndrome.  That would account for the length of time he spends in the upstairs toilet, I suppose.  And why he emerges with an odd look on his face…I expect he’s embarrassed.  But as I told him there’s no need to keep any secrets from me.  In fact, since we’re married, it’s almost MANDATED.  Wouldn’t you agree?

About butimbeautiful

Rose has two blogs,, and Enjoy!

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