It was touted to be the penultimate life-altering piece of infrastructure, that in making use of, would transform us into happier people with better friends, finer clothes and slimmer waistlines.

Seeing as the most cursory observation highlights the discrepancies between projected and actual figures of motorists using the Clem 7 tunnel, it begs the question ...

Why is it that people would rather waste their time stuck in traffic on an alternative bottle-necked route, rather than waste their money on paying the Clem 7 toll?

I know the shockjockery of Peter Dick on 4BC can make for scintillating post-work radio noise, but is it preferable to getting home earlier and spending quality time with those children we're supposed to be having ? Should not we be mindful of the fact that a person's time is a finite resource - the source of which cannot be mined for more minutes - whereas more money can always be earned in our booming economy.

I am no proponent of invasive, large-scale infrastructure for the sake of motorists, but seeing as the Clem 7 is now finished and floundering, let's do like a politician and throw on the positive spin. That way, BrizVegas won't become a city famous for the longest white elephant, taking no-one from one side of the city to the other.

There is an endearing quality to the boobs of bogans in BrizVegas. The unabashed presence of buxom cleavage reveals a character of honest intention, free from any hint of inhibition or class. In most cases, raunchy displays of boobs are less about promiscuity and more related to fame-seeking and juvenile desperation to abide by social norms. Women in BrizVegas – from underage babes to mutton-dressed-as-lamb cougars – love to show a hint of boob because we’ve got the flesh, we’ve got the climate, and we’re so far away from the rest of the world, who’s going to care about our lewd behaviour ?

BrizVegas is wrong to shun its reputation as the breeding ground of loud, Mystic tanned cashed-up-bogans, and should embrace the beguiling gracelessness of its thriving mainstream culture. Like an extrovert at a party, a well-exhibited set of boobs is a joy to behold, endowing all in their presence with a swelling pride for the bogan lifestyle. To stare at bogan boobs is to feel a compulsion to buy a plasma TV.

The question of whether we live in a happier, more generous society as a result of our willingness to bare flesh, or we feel compelled to reveal our assets because we enjoy such affluence and good fortune, is the fodder of sociologists.

Either way, our candour is deeply refreshing. The charitable nature that revealed itself in BrizVegas after the floods can’t have stemmed from a well of pure capitalist individualism, so clearly there are sources other than money which account for our sunnier-than-most society. It must be the boobs.

So next time you’re in town and you pass by a fabulous set of bogan boobs, say thanks; for making BrizVegas the breast city in the world.

Any romantic notion of train travel being the civilised wayfaring option has been been systematically and emphatically quashed by Queensland Rail (QR) over the years. Even forgiving the day-to-day logistic operational inadequacies of QR, riding on a train in BrisVegas leaves a traveller dirtier, more neurotic and less friendly a human being, none of which engenders a sense of pride in a city’s public transport.

Descending into the damp and dimly-lit caverns of Central or Brunswick Street Stations to board slow-moving trains emanating ambiguous odours is not a pleasant experience. Neither is hurrying with the crowds through the long passageway of Roma Street Station with commuters abruptly peeling off and seamlessly joining stream again at its various platform entrances.

Any imagined sense of palpable damnation shrouding QR stations seems actualised when there are pictures of policemen and armed security decorating the walls. Then on train platforms and in carriages we’re bombarded with depressing public notices about fare evasion and the importance of such life-saving precautions as not overstepping the yellow line, or alerting authorities when bags are found to be without people. It just doesn’t make sense.

And if we weren’t already sufficiently subdued into an unthinking mass of MX readers by all the safety protocol, we’re treated to the added humiliation of grappling with the automated ticket machines. Why, after wading through a series of ever more infuriating touch screen options, are we forced to nearly hands and knees to collect a ticket through the slot at the bottom ? Just one more way we’re being gently coerced into all joining the GO Card club.

Perhaps if Anna sells off QR passenger rail services we could enjoy the return of train travel with class and dignity.

Am I alone in thinking that the recent and ongoing tussle to win Queensland’s Premiership amongst senior political party members is utterly juvenile?

As Can-Do Campbell smarmily worms his way into the state’s affections, indifferent to any of the LNPs State policy or procedure, Anna Bligh watches her early 2011 surge in popularity recede more swiftly than the floodwaters. It seems that these political acrobatics are no more substantial than a choreographed diversion from any constructive discussion of pressing issues, such as how can we ensure BrisVegas becomes a city more resilient to flooding, or considering the economic and environmental downsides to our dependence on export to China, or even wondering where we will grow fresh food to feed ourselves.

It may be our short (and shortening) attention spans that have allowed such unproductive political in-quarrelling. Polls show that today, the average punter prefers Can-Do Campbell over Anna Bligh as Premier, yet a few short weeks ago, Anna was our saving grace in a time of crisis, and before Christmas she was one of the most vilified figures in our state’s history.

One of the conditions of living in BrizVegas is allowing oneself to grow fat and rich on a steady diet of rampant construction and capitalist enterprise. Our elected representatives provide us with glossy advertisements about road upgrades and boozy charitable events, new cycle paths and international music festivals, all of which are excellently satisfying our urge for materialistic accruement and vapid social networking. Much of the noise of modern life, however, can only ever act as short-lived attempts to correct our pangs of spiritual void. If what we seek is truthful guidance and consideration of our long-term future from Queensland’s elected leadership, it’s no wonder nobody is able to hold our concentration for any length of time.

Although, government just about rubbish and rates, right ?