BULLGOOSE: It’s a cult with links to the Sphynx – and Piddens has hidden his tax facts

Wes Piddens is doing his tax and BAS.

Wes: Bugger!

Alice: What?

Wes: We owe the Taxman this year.

Alice is incensed.

Alice: What? I’m incensed! How much?

Wes: Fifteen hundred bucks. They ignore the cents.

Alice: Big of ‘em. I bet you haven’t added it up right. Do it again.

Wes: Checked it three times, Allie.

Alice: Well, it’s just not good enough. How dare they?

Wes: The Taxman will never tax you more than you’ve earned.

An actual photo of Bullgoose in a suit doing his tax.

Alice: Yay. Sing a happy song. You hear my heels a-clickin’?

Wes: Unless you fudge, diddle or mis-report. Then they chase you with a barbed wire pineapple.

Alice: Bet the richo fat cats are quaking in their tax-deductible, Louis XIV beds under Himalayan Snow Goose down doonas scoffing Belgian choccies. It’s not fair.

Wes: We’ve gotta have taxes.

Alice: Do we? Really?

Wes: Well, if we don’t pay taxes, how can the government afford to give tax concessions to churches, cults and private schools?

Alice: You nut! That’s not an argument for taxes.

Wes: Well no, but sometimes it’s good to walk a mile in the other bloke’s comfy bespoke loafers. Especially if you’ve just stolen them, hahaha!

Alice: Shut up, you waste of bed space!

Wes: Ouch!

Alice: Right. Let’s start a cult and get tax-free status.

Wes: Shame on you, Alice Piddens! A cult? Never! That goes against our dearest principles.

Alice: Keep your wig on, Mister Virtue Signaller. I’m talking about a non-cult cult.

Wes: Huh?

Alice: We pretend to be a cult, only we’re nothing of the sort.

Wes: Why, you cunning little minx. It could just work. So, what? We get tax-free status and give away all the money we make from the cult?

Alice: Yeah. Give it all to charity. Plus, gifts to charities are tax deductible. Right. What will we call ourselves? (Thinking music) Hmm… Got it.

Wes: What?

Alice: Oreo Tluc.

Wes: Oreo Tluc?

Alice: Oreo Tluc. Get it? ‘Tluc’ is ‘cult’ backwards.

But Wes hates Oreos.

Wes: I hate Oreos! Cocoa-tainted baked floor sweepings. Why ever do people get so excited about them? ‘Oooh, yum, Oreos!’ ‘Mmm, they’re so dope and on-point!’ ‘Oooh, ahh! I needing my Oreos, my guilt plez!”

I thought a craving for ordure had its own chapter in The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders.

Am I wrong? Now Wagon Wheels I could understand. They’re full of rubbish, but it’s scrumptious rubbish. OK, they’re dinky and minuscule compared to the good old days when they were so big you needed two hands to hold one, but Oreos? Really?

Alice: Are you finished?

Wes: Sorry.

Alice: I will be known as… Oreo Krave, and you will be… Oreo Bunt.

Wes: Very well.

Alice: Now, what about a weird, zany origin story.

Wes: OK, how about this?

 ‘And it came to pass that there were many rumours abroad in the land that the Dulgigin Sphynx had moved a bit. Some said a cubit. Others said ‘Oh nay! It is but a smidgin askew’. So anyway, Oreo Krave did send and task Oreo Bunt to travel to the Sphynx and solve the mystery. And Oreo Bunt did whip out the GPS for to GPS that Sphynx’s position, and lo he found that it had not shifted at all. And from that moment on, anyone with any sense realised that any unexplained mystery, once explained, was found to be free of any wackiness or juju. And Oreo Krave became known in all the nations as a loose cat, but smart for sending Oreo Bunt to do the GPS stuff.’

Alice: OK, that should work, but how do we make some money without ripping off the faithful punters?

Wes: Easy. We just flog postcards of the Dulgigin Sphynx.

Alice: What about some weird cult rules?


1 Love somebody

2 Be nice

3 Read the fine print. Read it twice


4 No Oreos!

Alice: Wes!

Wes: What? Cults have all got weird food rules.

Alice: Wes!

Wes: OK, OK. No Oreos, unless you are legitimately starving. What about polygamy?

Oreos are not Alice’s favourite.

Alice: No way!

Wes: Just asking for a friend.

Alice: Hmmm. Now, a proper cult is riddled with nepotism and dynasties, so phone Big Minch and tell him he and Little Minch are now ‘prophets’.

Wes: Yeah, and the little Sweeties can be Elders.

Alice: But the Bub is only six months old.

Wes: Well, look at Jesus. He was at it from birth.

Alice: Fair point. Now, what about our ‘teachings’?

Wes: Easy. Just order the punters to read the Bullgoose column. He’s always banging on about something nutso.

Phone rings.

Wes here.

Scammer: Good evening. This is Runi, on behalf of Guide Dogs for Orphan Horses.

Wes (winking): And good evening to you, Runi. Now Runi, do you understand the true lesson of the Dulgigin Sphynx?

Scammer: I, I, What?

Wes: Well, you’re obviously up for a scam, Runi. How would you like to be Disciple #1?

A lesson to us all.


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