sinking the mateship

"I mean, what am I, chopped liver?"
"Mate, if it were up to me, you know I'd give it to you."
"But Tony, for god's sake."
"Well, the Party reckons the public have warmed to him since the whole cuckold thing. It's humanised him, mate. They reckon he'll get the sympathy vote. Whereas you..."
"But I've waited so long, so patiently, for my turn! I mean, this is my--what is it?--eleventh bloody Budget? I'm not doing this anymore, John. This is the last one, the last one, you hear!"
"There, there...there, there."
"You know what? I don't even want your stinking job! I'll tell you what I want. I want Alexander's job. OK? I want to do some sightseeing. I want to be a human Hallmark card. Goddammit, I want to wear fishnet stockings!"
"OK, settle down Peter. I'll put it to the Party; we'll see what we can do. Maybe we can get Alex home to do some remedial maths classes, and then he can do the numbers."
"And I'm not going down with the Budget either John. I've got my legacy to think about too, you know. This Medicare cockup, for example. You and Tony are going to have to wear that one, mate."
"Relax, I'll handle it."
"Let's see what the public thinks of the slimy little sycophant after that one."
"Come, come, old boy. That's not nice. Let's turn that frown upside down, eh? Show us that trademark smirk. Ah, good lad!"

(footnote: Rumour that Costello and Downer are to swap jobs is courtesy of Peter Fitzsimons in last weekend's Sun-Herald.)