anti social misanthropic mission attends a big ho ha down in the city outside parliament house with a whole bunch of other nutters demanding things from people in big homes and nice suits. man, we just want to keep our paltry wages, we just want to keep our security and all that jazz. the fat cats look upon us with scorn, a water drenched rabble of fucking plebs, the citizens. 
i scan their minds and this is what i find.
we don't care about you as humans
we only want your vote
we only want your tax dollars
you are all expendable
we have the power
you do not
we have the authority
you do not
we have it for four years and we will milk it dry, every ounce, until we are set for life and you will pay for it.
some one shouts out 'what do we want?'
another yells in swift response something inaudible and i join in by yelling out, 'free lunch.'
these fat cats won't listen to us at all, they have their heads buried in the sand, journalists won't even ask us a question. they watch from the shelter of their big building and look upon us with scorn.
suddenly the riot squad arrive, they clear the streets and block the traffic. 
about two hundred aboriginal people march passed us, demonstrations clash. good timing, as usual the union fuck things up. these people want to stop black deaths in custardy. i swap sides. i ditch the fucking unions because they are the pigs who wheel and deal along with the pigs who look down upon us. i can't see the difference in the animal farm. all i know is 30 years after the royal commission into black deaths these people are still asking for a basic human right, to stay alive under police protection.
i care about wages and conditions but you know, i 'd feel a sense of shame if the right to stay alive was not a priority. 
this is australia 2017.