Melbourne’s Commie inner-east is all in a tizzy tonight after some extremely game street-artists daubed the top of Cremorne’s iconic Nylex silos with a new frieze of ancient Indo-European sun symbols.
For those not familiar with Melbourne, the hideous, yet somehow heritage-listed silos, sit on an otherwise picturesque stretch of the Yarra River near Punt road and the Monash freeway. They are visible for kilometres around, prime real estate for taggers and teenage daredevils looking for the ultimate selfie.
Warbler Paul Kelly references the silos and the now inoperative neon digital-clock in his classic Australian folk song “Leaps and bounds” and the video clip for that song was shot atop that now ideologically contaminated structure.
The site is set to be developed to house the state’s ever-growing population of dusky Uber Eats riders and oriental problem gamblers and is under 24-hour security watch. The developers issued a statement professing alarm at the graffiti but, given that their guards are probably all cash-in-hand sub-continental marketing students who spend the entire shift on the site thunderbox wanking off to Pornhub, the Fascist incursion would have been a cakewalk.
Rolling on metre high sun wheels upside down over the side of the parapet on a 30-storey high building is no mean feat, perhaps the miscreants used Nazi levitation technology, or were specially trained by geriatric veterans of the German airborne invasion of Crete?
There is, however, another country on the Mediterranean with a strong attachment to its paratrooper brigades and a programme of compulsory military service; it is hard to imagine a couple of portly, drunken skinheads surviving this escapade. But I could imagine that there are probably dozens of fit young Israeli backpackers fresh from the ranks of the IDF knocking about town who’d be up for the task.
Swastika-alarmist Dvir Abramovich issued his own statement on behalf of the dozen or so old Holocaust survivors whose financial support keeps him from penury and dissolution; this dastardly act of high-altitude anti-Semitism, he said, vindicates his incessant bleating about the rise of Neo-Nazism and White supremacy.
Unfortunately for Dvir’s bank balance Australia is not, and never will be, anywhere near the point of awarding gold stars and new pyjamas to Melbourne’s minuscule Jewish population; Australia’s greatest ever, least-hated Jew, John Monash, would have given him a kick in the knackers for being such a sook and told him to pull his bloody socks up.
Whether the offending emblems were daubed by particularly acrobatic alt-righters or overly enthusiastic Zionist Sayanim the effect on the broader community has been minimal, between the morning sun glare and the need to keep one’s eyes peeled lest a nose-to-tail collision occur on the immigrant clogged roads, I doubt many commuters even noticed the new décor.