Senator Xenophon told The Australian following the vote he was “gobsmacked” the major parties and the Greens combined to defeat his motion.
Why – FDS – is it that every time I go through to airside; wearing a uniform and an ASIC I get ‘done over’. Thorny reckons it’s ‘cos I look dodgy – then he cops it. The ‘gunpowder’ residual test really does my head in – seriously – but I’ve nutted it out. DO NOT have that last smoke before entering – shows positive every time. Then there is the saga of my ancient, valuable, rare, gifted to me by my Grand Papa pocket knife. As a climber the young “K” came to rely on the short, sharp blade; as a sailor a slightly less young “K” used that knife to great effect, when ‘matters nautical’ turned unpleasant. It was a small, innocuous thing; 4” in old money; 100 mm in the new; with a handy corkscrew.
Part of the flight kit – in the bag – closed and innocuous. There I was; four gold bars; ASIC; 7 Kg flight axe, many tons of Jet A, lots of passengers awaiting departure – boots off, bag searched, ‘explosives' test passed;and, then, the buggers confiscated my Grand Papa’s old pocket knife.
This is a BOLLOCKS – Only Chester could stuff this up – my bloody Aunt Fanny (known nut job) could board an aircraft under the domestic tyranny’s name on the boarding pass (has done)– but me! and I’m flying the bloody thing; can’t get past the troll at the gate to Nirvana without having to drop my dax, taking off boots and belt, flight kit ‘sniffed’; and, to top it off - having my bloody knife confiscated – to be picked up later. That is another story – the case of the disappearing articles – seems ‘they’ can’t find it – only worth about a grand – on Ebay.
Toot - Go figure – toot.
Why – FDS – is it that every time I go through to airside; wearing a uniform and an ASIC I get ‘done over’. Thorny reckons it’s ‘cos I look dodgy – then he cops it. The ‘gunpowder’ residual test really does my head in – seriously – but I’ve nutted it out. DO NOT have that last smoke before entering – shows positive every time. Then there is the saga of my ancient, valuable, rare, gifted to me by my Grand Papa pocket knife. As a climber the young “K” came to rely on the short, sharp blade; as a sailor a slightly less young “K” used that knife to great effect, when ‘matters nautical’ turned unpleasant. It was a small, innocuous thing; 4” in old money; 100 mm in the new; with a handy corkscrew.
Part of the flight kit – in the bag – closed and innocuous. There I was; four gold bars; ASIC; 7 Kg flight axe, many tons of Jet A, lots of passengers awaiting departure – boots off, bag searched, ‘explosives' test passed;and, then, the buggers confiscated my Grand Papa’s old pocket knife.
This is a BOLLOCKS – Only Chester could stuff this up – my bloody Aunt Fanny (known nut job) could board an aircraft under the domestic tyranny’s name on the boarding pass (has done)– but me! and I’m flying the bloody thing; can’t get past the troll at the gate to Nirvana without having to drop my dax, taking off boots and belt, flight kit ‘sniffed’; and, to top it off - having my bloody knife confiscated – to be picked up later. That is another story – the case of the disappearing articles – seems ‘they’ can’t find it – only worth about a grand – on Ebay.
Toot - Go figure – toot.