Bernard's Long Night Of The Soul

The candles flickered in the library. The lone figure, bent wearily over his books, shook his head and sighed. He had been there from early morning, and now, in the small hours, he was thoroughly exhaused. Yet he would not rest, for he knew - somehow in his bones he knew - that what he was looking for was somewhere in here.

"Mr Gaynor?" enquired the librarian timidly, approaching the desk. "I really should be closing the library, sir. Perhaps you should go home."

Bernard did not lift his head, but let a light chuckle escape his lips.

The librarian was uncertain of her next move. "Mr Gaynor?"

"Dammit woman!" he exploded, turning his flashing, manly eyes upon her. "Do you think truth and justice run according to your schedules?"

The librarian had to admit, on brief reflection, that they did not. Gaynor waved in her face the hefty leatherbound tome over which he had most recently been poring. It was a dusty volume from the late 19th century, titled "HOW TO DO A SEX WITH LADIES". On the desk lay pages and pages of scribbled notes and a variety of other texts, some similarly aged, some modern, but all of them on related subjects: "HOW OUR BITS WORK" lay beside "RUDE PARTS AND WHAT THEY DO", which lay underneath "ANIMALS DOING IT IN PICTURES". Across the desk was "WHAT TO DO IF YOU ARE KISSING" and "WHO SHOULD BE ON TOP ANYWAY?", while tossed in frustration to the floor was a selection including "WHERE WHICH GOES IN WHAT FOR KIDS", "HAPPY TIMES WITH WIVES" and "HOW TO TELL IF YOU ARE A BOY".

Clearly the scholar had been studying intently in search of something, but what? The librarian shook her head and retreated. Locking the door behind her, she left him to his studies, all through the night.

Gaynor's eyes darted across the page in the dim light. He knew it was here: the key to all his theories, the one discovery that would electrify the world and prove once and for all that his warnings were timely and correct, and that indeed, the gays were seeking to steal his organs.

He flicked through pages and pages of diagrams and photographs and scholarly monographs and graphic depictions. He licked his lips, aroused and stimulated in a philosophical sense. He was so close, so close that he could taste it. Or at least he could taste something. It was salty.

And then...he saw it.

"YES!" he shrieked, his voice echoing around the musty halls of knowledge. All alone, he danced a dance of triumph. "I have it!" he yelled happily. "I have it!"

He leapt through the window, rolling joyously onto the grass amid a shower of broken glass, and rushed off in the direction of Officeworks to have as many laminated copies of his discovery made as possible, for dissemination amongst the media which would be in a few hours assembled on his doorstep.

For there, flapping wildly in his hand like the cape of a great hero of antiquity, was the book that contained the key, that would end the argument once and for all and allow Bernard to usher in a new age of genuine Christian love and well-oriented decency. It flapped and snapped in the breeze created by his great cross-lawn speed, his thumb placed still in the middle, keeping it open on the page which bore the great truth, the awesome discovery he had stumbled upon. For there, upon those yellowing, crackly pages, were the words with which he would change the world:

"PENIS GOES IN VAGINA"

He cackled gleefully. From now on, everything was going to be all right.

DEAR BERNARD

An open letter in response to Bernard Gaynor's open letter in response to Mia Freedman's open letter in response to Bernard Gaynor's tweet in response to the indoctrination of our children by homosexualists.

Dear Bernard,

I am writing this open letter because, as I am sure you know, open letters are how we get things done in this country. I myself am currently running for prime minister, and I can assure you that when elected I will be pursuing a very open-letter-heavy agenda.

As I was reading your letter to Mia Freedman, I couldn't help but notice that you are extremely stupid, and so I wondered if you had any advice for me as a parent. My children are still too young for any definitive conclusions to be made, but early testing indicates they are at risk of being stupid as well, so I was wondering whether you have any tips about how to live a fulfilling life as a stupid person: what sort of obstacles and prejudices have you faced, and what kind of strategies do you put in place to overcome your stupidity? I hear that meditation is good - do you meditate? Probably not because meditation is a bit gay, but maybe if we meditate about karate movies it would be all right.

Your views on homosexual teachers are quite interesting and merit further examination. Like you, I once went to a school and was shocked by the amount of penetrative sex that goes on in the average classroom. While I understand that there will always be times when curriculum requirements necessitate sexual intercourse between teachers and students, I, like you, am worried that if homosexuality is normalised, this sexual intercourse may cease being strictly heterosexual, as is traditional in Australian schools, and begin to be homosexual, which is a bit gross, isn't it? I read a book once about homosexual intercourse and I was shocked at the things those people do to each other. As Catholics, you and I know that some things should not be put inside other things. You wouldn't stuff a turkey with a ferret, would you? No.

But likewise, as a good Catholic I am sure you will agree there is no need to actually ban penetrative sex in classroom environments: we must be careful that the cure does not become worse than the disease, causing our children to grow up having no idea what sex with teachers feels like at all. We just need to find a way to stop our kids becoming "gay". By the way, did you know your name has "gay" in it? That's pretty funny isn't it? Did kids make fun of you at school and call you Gay Bernard? Or did they mainly make fun of you for being stupid? At my school we made fun of stupid kids mostly, but if we'd had a boy with "gay" in his name things might have been different.

Why does "gay" mean "homosexual" anyway? Wouldn't it better if we went back to "gay" meaning "happy", and came up with a new word for homosexuals, like "Demoncocks"? I would like to hear your thoughts on this. Maybe you could come over to my house and watch karate movies with me and we could talk about it. I promise not to let the evening progress beyond some light kissing.

Most of all I want to throw my support behind your desire to allow parents the right to decide who teaches their children. Personally I would like my children to be taught by boxing legend "Aussie Joe" Bugner, but as yet the Department of Education has been stypically stiff-necked and refuses to allow even an hour a week of Bugner lessons, let alone the full-time Aussie Joe curriculum that I would prefer. Bureaucracy, huh? It is very gay.

I'm not saying that you should also let your kids be taught by Aussie Joe, of course. I think that you should be allowed to select whichever former boxing great you like to teach your children. I hope you choose wisely, as I'd hate to see your children be hindered in their development any more than they already have been by the unfortunate circumstances of their birth.

I guess what I'm saying, Bernard, is keep up the good work. If you would like to get in touch with me, I have disconnected my telephone and deleted all my email accounts, as from now on I will be communicating only via open letters, but feel free to drop me an open letter any time, whether on your own site, on Mamamia, on The Punch, or on Aussie Joe Bugner's official fan club Facebook page. Explicit photos of yourself can, as always, be dropped in my home mailbox.

Yours in Christ,

Ben Pobjie (future prime minister)

HELP! GAYS!

Former Victorian premier and current Hawthorn Football Club president Jeff Kennett succumbs to his constant fear that his face will seize up if he keeps his mouth shut, and backs a football club that sacked a trainer for being gay.

Jeff is worried that if you let a gay man massage other men it "ran an unnecessary risk".

"It's the same if you have a pedophile there as a masseur, right?" said Mr Kennett, showing that endearing sensitivity that made him such a beloved political figure.

Indeed it is, Jeff - in fact, the previous 22 years the chap spent working for the football club were probably just a clever, slow-burning ruse, waiting for the perfect moment to out himself, upon which he would seize his opportunity and start raping everyone in sight.

So naturally, the football club did the right thing. Somebody has to take a stand before these gays start thinking of themselves as people.

In News Limited papers, Robbo and Ando discussed the issue with equal sophistication and intelligence. Apparently Ando and Robbo "both know where Jeff's coming from". Also, they admire Jeff, because "at least he speaks his mind".

So when you email Robbo and Ando to point out that they are oafish halfwits perpetrating a laughable mockery of the word "journalism", you will get a speedy reply commending you on how well you speak your mind. Since forthrightness is all that matters, after all.