A downcast little woman from war-torn Sudan, who had landed
on a raft from across the sea, beamed an almighty grin,
when she was greeted by Kenny, a kangaroo, saying, ‘Thank you, for welcoming me, a refugee.

‘My name is Miss Bullafleyo Kooazis.

'Don't hang about, you lovely animal, for I'm being chased by an Australia For Us’ possee.'

Kenny beckoned to his midriff, and she jumped in his extra large pouch.

Due to a frugal diet, she just about fitted in, and the 'roo jumped so high, they were hidden by a low-lying coastal cloud, a phenomenal peculiar to that kind of beach.
 

I sat up at the arrival of this pretty guest, to my temporary base, a hidden oasis.

She looked vaguely familiar, so I offered her eucalyptus wine, and the sultry desert air rang with laughter, as I clumsily demonstrated how to suck the juice of a melon.

‘Have we met before?' She asked, ‘You may not recognise me, as I’ve lost my curly hair.’

Cursed with a bad memory, I answered, ‘I wouldn’t have forgotten your lovely countenance!’

She seemed to believe my cover story, that I was a professor of Cultural Diversity from Melbourne.

Then an aboriginal choir sang, backed by a didgeridoo orchestra,
so I asked, ‘Fancy a dance?’, and we stepped out, quickly drawing an audience.

Bullafleyo laughed, ‘I never thought I’d do this when I came to Australia.’

Later that evening, tribal chief, The Mighty Mungoo, told me, ‘I’m glad we allowed you to visit us, as an observer of indigenous tribal systems.

'You may wonder what a sophisticated man like me is doing here.

‘Well, I left the outback as a very intelligent boy, attending the University of Bulla Blot.

‘I was recruited by the AIA (Australian Intelligence Agency), and sent to instruct the CIA (you guessed it, the US Intelligence lot), oh, how I hate those acronyms.

‘Maybe they thought my brown skin would make them look politically correct, or PC, oh dear, that’s another – you know, an acronym.

‘I was asked to teach the American spooks an ancient code, based on aboriginal methods of speech.

'But it was used to infiltrate a Red Indian tribe, The Bigred-Mottledfoot who, long ago, had travelled to this land.

‘Given sanctuary by my forebears, they used bow and arrows to repel invaders,
who were seeking to enslave natives, at the battle of Mocassin-Middlebleech.

‘I left the agency and, after revealing their dirty deeds in a book, A Spy With a Conscious, I learned my old bosses were after me, so fled to this remote place.’

He suddenly tensed himself, as I dug out my Glock handgun to shoot Mighty Mungoo.

However, maybe I shouldn’t have first alerted him, by declaring,
‘Sorry to use an acronym, but the CIA sent me to carry out a sentence for treason.

‘Which is silly, considering you’re not American – in fact, you’re a native Australian.

'Gosh, that was a mouthful.’

About to fire, I was punched by Kenny the kangaroo.

Reeling from his blow, Mungoo’s burly wife, Sugamush Saddledell, picked me up,
saying ‘Don’t try anything, I learned karate from my hubbie, and once, with one chop,
knocked down my police cell wall, where I’d been thrown by a racist cop.’

Bullafleyo then joined in the verbal assault.

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I came across you in Greece, where I landed, hidden in a strange, glowing patch of seaweed, thus escaping the secret police.

‘The Greeks call that marine phenomenon Aqua Mellaflish, meaning ‘I shall save you’, which it did, by keeping me afloat.

‘You, cleverly disguised as a beachcomber, offered me a bed in your beach hut.

'But I spotted a secret radio, during your obsequious pillow talk.’

‘Gazing at the stars behind a Cullabungus bush, I overheard Mungoo’s confession,
and suspected you were not academical, excuse my English, in fact, you’re an undercover hitman.’

I threw myself on their mercy, and am now an aboriginal native, my skin mottled black by the sun.

So, if my past employers come looking for their failed assassin, they might not recognise him.

However, they may hear about the tribal wedding of a fake professor and his Sudanese sweetheart, truly an unlikely marriage, blessed by The Mighty Mungoo.

But beware showing too much curiosity, you vengeful US intelligence operatives, or you'll be knocked out by a punch from Kenny the kangaroo.