WITH a federal election coming up next year, I reckon I might run a candidate in Fairfax against Clive Palmer.
Firstly, though, I would want to start my own party to take on the Palmer party, and no it wouldn't be the Tugboat Party - that party would be slow of wit and quick of mouth, which would not be good up against Clive.
No, I thought maybe the Golf and Tourism Party would be a pretty good cause.
There are a whole bunch of reasons, starting with what has happened at Palmer Coolum - the resort, the golf course and the villas.
Sure Mr Palmer can do whatever he likes - it's his course and his money, but to have him representing the Sunshine Coast is a bit rich for me as he obviously has no regard for the Coast as a tourism destination, considering what has unfolded up at Coolum.
Up until the Saturday before last week it hadn't really impacted on me - that was when I played at the Palmer Colonial Course on the Gold Coast, celebrating my son's birthday with his two best mates.
On the Friday morning we played the Lakelands Golf Club course and it was sensational from arrival to end - great staff, great course and a really good experience.
The next morning we headed to Palmer's course and were greeted by a stagnant lake and some dilapidated tennis courts. It reminded me somewhat of Coolum, or at least a picture of where it is heading.
Again, it is his course - he can do whatever he likes. But we learnt a pretty good lesson about spending our hard-earned with Clive.
The course layout is good - tough, but good - the greens had some nice mushrooms growing on them, but to the designers' credit they were still pretty true.
However, as we proceeded around broken branches, decaying bridges and buildings, it was pretty evident the place was on a downhill slide.
Confirming that was when we rang to inquire about a drinks cart, only to be told, "sorry", that person had cancelled her shift.
By the time we got to the halfway house we were greeted by a lady with a Santa hat on, but no cheer, who slid the sausage roll across the counter like she was throwing a reheated mince discus.
No please, no thanks and no idea.
All that was bearable, however, but on the signature hole, we came across a dead pelican, which looked like it had been clubbed to death, lying in stagnant water.
It was so sad, but even worse, it was still there two hours later.
That was it for me - a day I will never forget, as it was my son's birthday, but that pelican's sad end did it for me.
I will never again spend a cent anywhere Clive's name is, and I hope and pray that come election time his electorate remembers what he has done and what he hasn't done at Coolum.
Maybe I will change my party's name to the Pelican Party - may the poor creature RIP.
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