Old MacDonald in frame for pipeline whodunnit

OUT OF MY HEAD

Scene: Rural police station. Senior Sergeant: Okay, ‘Record’ light is go. I am Senior Sergeant Phillip Bush, and this is Constable Shaun Naylor. This is Friday, February the 9th, 2018. With us, of his own free will, is Bruce Alamein MacDonald. You have not been formally charged with an offence, Mr MacDonald, but you have accepted my invitation to assist us with our inquiries. Is that correct?

MacDonald: Oh for flip’s sake … Yes, yes.

Sen Sgt: Now, you are a farmer by profession, I believe. Of 527 Station Rd.

MacDonald: Cut the crap, Phil. You sat in the front lounge at 527 Station Rd last weekend for the Sevens with a beer in your hand.

Sen Sgt: By-the-numbers, please Bruce. HQ’s putting the heat on big-time, and I’m in uniform now. Speak to the uniform.

MacDonald: I suppose you’ve gotta do your job. Yeah, I ama farmer.

Sen Sgt: Ooops, forgot my housekeeping. I have to caution you, Bruce MacDonald, that anything you say may be taken down and later used in evidence. You can have a lawyer present if you wish ...

MacDonald: The way those ratbags charge, not bloody likely.

Sen Sgt: And you also have the right to a make-up artist, since these interviews are now filmed.

MacDonald: Really. Who owns the repeat screening rights? Sen Sgt: We do. MacDonald: Merchandising? Sen Sgt: Ditto. MacDonald: I’m being stitched up then, aren’t I.

Sen Sgt: Now, um, Bruce, you are known locally as ‘Old MacDonald’. MacDonald: Bloody schoolkids. Constable: Excuse me interrupting, Bruce. For the written record, is that Alamein with an ‘e, i’? MacDonald: ‘E’, ‘i’. (Nods) Constable: Oh. (Rubs out writing)

Sen Sgt: So, Old MacDonald, you admit you have a farm. MacDonald: Me and the bank. Sen Sgt: And on this farm you have a cow. MacDonald: Or two … Sen Sgt: And on this farm you have a sheep. MacDonald: Some ... Sen Sgt: And on this farm you have … a digger.

Constable: Digger, digger, digger, digger ... Sen Sgt: Get a grip, Shaun. MacDonald: I might have. Most cockies do. What of it?

Sen Sgt: I amshowing the accused – sorry, the helpful citizen – a copy of Old MacDonald Had A Farm, by illustrator Donovan Bixley. MacDonald: Good book. Sen Sgt: An excellent book. You’re familiar with his work?

MacDonald: He’s the wife’s second cousin. Came out to the place a while back and made a few sketches. Said he wanted authenticity.

Sen Sgt: So he used you as the model?

MacDonald: He was pretty cruel about my gut, but yeah. Haven’t seen a brass razoo for my trouble, mind you. He gets a bestseller and I get two free copies – could have scored those from the library. Bloody arty types, either flashing the readies like a lottery winner or as tight as a duck’s drum.

Sen Sgt: Yes, I’m sure. So on page 3 here, in the background, we can clearly see a swamp …

MacDonald: All mine, unfortunately. Sen Sgt: And a yellow digger. Constable: Digger, digger, digger ... MacDonald: What’s your point? Sen Sgt: The point, Bruce, yes. Does this swamp contain kauri? MacDonald: What? Sen Sgt: It’s a native hardwood. MacDonald: I know what bloody kauri is. What do I bloody care what’s down there? I’m just trying to drain the sodding thing.

Sen Sgt: You see, Bruce, from our side it doesn’t look good. You have a farm, a swamp, an extensive knowledge of kauri and a … D-I-G-G-E-R, and we’re now investigating a case of damage to a crucial fuel pipeline that nearly brought the aviation industry to its knees, not to mention a staggering repair bill.

MacDonald: So that’s it. Well firstly, that stuff-up happened way up north, and secondly, didn’t the Regional Council just decide there wasn’t enough evidence to prosecute?

Sen Sgt: Perhaps, but the Regional Council doesn’t have a Government inquiry hanging over its head and a Commissioner getting stick on the golf course from the new Minister. Hence we’ve picked up the ball, and broadened the scope of inquiries to all D-I-G-G-E-R operators with a history of chomping through pipes and power cables – we’re talking hundreds – plus all farmers with suspicious surnames like MacDonald, and Farmer Brown, and Farmer Ted.

Constable: Wasn’t that Father Ted, Senior?

Sen Sgt: Oh you’re right. Pull him in anyway. So, Bruce, can you account for your whereabouts from 2014 until last September. MacDonald: Every bloody day? Sen Sgt: Constable, note his reluctance to answer the question.

MacDonald: This is madness. It was hundreds of k’s away, man.

Sen Sgt: Don’t play the numpty, Bruce. What’s to stop someone throwing their D-I-G-G-E-R onto a turbocharged low-loader at dusk, racing though the darkness, having a ‘scratch around’ for woody treasure, then racing back home before sunrise?

MacDonald: And nobody saw this astonishing grand prix sprint?

Sen Sgt: Inquiries are ongoing, Bruce. Not at liberty to disclose. Our experts reckon with an average speed of 160k, it’s do-able. You used to hoon around the paddocks in a souped-up Anglia back in the day, I hear.

MacDonald: Not saying another bloody word. Get me a lawyer.