The Hobart City Council A–B–C

The Hobart City Council A–B–C

An Educational Alphabet for the Politically Perplexed

A is for Aldermen, assembled in state, Who spend half the evening discussing debate. They entered at six with a purpose quite clear, By midnight, they've forgotten why they're here.

B is for Budget, that magical chest, Where spending more money is called doing one's best. The figures look splendid, the columns all shine, But somehow the ratepayers foot every line.

C is for Consultation, a noble affair, Where everyone speaks and we're eager to care. We thank you sincerely for sharing your view, Then proceed with the thing we intended to do.

D is for Democracy, precious and dear, Where everyone speaks, though few choose to hear. We champion debate and the people's free voice, Then grumble whenever they question our choice.

E is for Efficiency, a marvellous goal, We'll establish a working group, give it control. It will meet every month for a year, maybe two, Then recommend something we already knew.

F is for Footpaths, with cracks here and there, A hazard for wheelchairs, if anyone cares. We'll schedule an audit, a study, a chat, Then trip on the pavement while discussing all that.

G is for Governance, majestic and grand, With policies thicker than most understand. Each rule has a footnote, each footnote a clause, And each little loophole deserves its applause.

H is for Hobart, our city so fair, With mountain and river and crisp southern air. A jewel of a capital, admired far and wide, If only its Council could set squabbles aside.

I is for Infrastructure, crumbling away, We'll commission a report without further delay. The report recommends what we've known all along, But the funding is gone and the timing is wrong.

J is for Jargon, a language divine, Where "strategic alignment" means "everything's fine". We "leverage outcomes" and "maximise reach", While the public wonders if it's actually English.

K is for Kerfuffle, that wonderful word, Where sensible voices are seldom much heard. A minor amendment becomes a great fight, And the minutes grow longer well into the night.

L is for Leadership, noble and wise, With visions of progress and stars in our eyes. But leading is harder than making a speech, Especially when consensus is just out of reach.

M is for Motions, which come by the score, There's always an amendment, then three or four more. By the time that they're carried, the meaning's quite thin, And nobody remembers how they first began.

N is for No, such a practical sound, When a sensible notion is making its round. "No" needs no research, no budget, no plan, It's the cheapest decision available to man.

O is for Outrage, performed with great flair, With righteous indignation and theatrical air. The cameras are rolling, the speeches are grand, While actual solutions are left on the stand.

P is for Parking, our favourite debate, Where losing one space sparks a furious fate. Some say it's progress, some call it a crime, And we'll argue the matter till the end of all time.

Q is for Questions, both awkward and plain, Which sometimes are asked and then asked once again. We'll take them on notice, we'll answer in due course, Once everyone's forgotten the original source.

R is for Ratepayers, patient and true, Who pay for the things we decide we must do. They ask for good value, clean streets and some care, And wonder why meetings require quite so much air.

S is for Salamanca, our market of fame, A Hobart tradition deserving its name. With artists and traders and tourists galore, Let's cherish the magic that brings them ashore.

T is for Transparency, open and bright, A beacon of truth and a guiding light. Except for the papers we cannot release, For reasons best left to maintaining the peace.

U is for UTAS, a subject of note, That's generated petitions and many a vote. We've debated the future, the buildings, the land, While ordinary folk just wish things had been planned.

V is for Vision, a glorious sight, Where every proposal is bold, brave and bright. We dream of tomorrow, magnificent and new, Then spend the next meeting debating the view.

W is for Workshops, with biscuits and tea, Where great minds assemble quite earnestly. We brainstorm and chart till the afternoon's done, Then schedule another to finish the one.

X is for X-ray, which might just reveal, The things that some meetings so carefully conceal. But even an X-ray, however precise, Can't show where good judgement went missing—twice.

Y is for YouthARC, a place for the young, Where laughter and music and friendships have sprung. For a city needs youngsters with dreams of their own, Or one day we'll wonder where all of them have flown.

Z is for Zzzzz, the final refrain, As the chair calls for order again and again. The clock's struck eleven, the chamber's still full, And somehow we've not yet discussed the first rule.

The Moral of the Story

So here's to our Council, its quirks and its ways, Its motions, commotions and long meeting days.

For Hobart deserves more than quarrels and noise, A city of promise, of hope and of choice.

Let wisdom prevail, let good humour survive, And remember the reason our Council's alive.

Not power, nor position, nor winning debate, But serving the people who wait at the gate.

And should all else fail, as it sometimes may do, There's always a workshop—or possibly two!