ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact
It seems like just yesterday that Scott Morrison was running the country with a trusty smile, a schooner of cold brew, and a penchant for well-timed disappearances. But the tides of political life move fast, and in 2024, the man once known as “ScoMo” has swapped the corridors of Parliament House for the shiny, soap-scented bays of Crystal Carwash Blakehurst.
Now, in an exclusive behind-the-scenes peek, The Betoota Advocate has learned that Morrison has found himself absolutely thriving as the new manager of this suburban institution. Perched right on the Princes Highway, where the rumble of traffic meets the hiss of high-pressure hoses, Morrison’s new role is reportedly the perfect fit for a man who knows a thing or two about holding a hose.
“It’s been a blessing, really,” says Morrison, dressed in the freshly pressed Crystal Carwash uniform, complete with a name tag that simply reads ‘Scotty’.
Much like his time as Prime Minister, Morrison takes pride in delegating the heavy lifting to a trusted team. Whether it’s sitting on a milk crate smoking a cigarettes in direct, blazing sunlight or overseeing the meticulous application of polish to a Range Rover, Morrison’s charm remains as thick as the suds sliding down a freshly scrubbed Mercedes.
“It’s a job that allows me to continue being in control,” he explains.
“All day long, I get to lead a team of, you know, Indian blokes. Pakistanis. Nepalese and Bangladeshis. They all hate each other, too. Yelling at one another, it’s hilarious. I just put the hose on them and tell ’em to get back to work. They’re just like us, I never realised. Anyway, I get to talk to people from all walks of life. Teachers, tradies, retirees. Everyone’s got a car that needs cleaning. It’s just like running a country, really. Except the customer feedback is a bit more immediate when you’ve missed a spot. Plus, you know, the lefties like to give it to me, which is fine. We live in a democracy. But I will be pinching their chewing gum [laughs] Just kidding,”
The transition from leading a nation to leading a team of car detailers has come with unexpected benefits. Gone are the days of high-stakes media scrutiny, leadership spills, and being forced to explain why he left the country during a natural disaster. The serenity of Crystal Carwash has had such a calming effect on Morrison that his thinning hair has made a remarkable comeback.
“Yeah, it’s grown back. Turns out, when you’re not constantly worrying about interest rates, bushfires, or the Greens demanding your resignation, your hair relaxes too,” Morrison chuckles, brushing a hand through his newly lush locks, now long enough to be tied back in a small but proud ponytail.
“I thought about shaving it again, but Jen reckons it makes me look like I should be managing a pub in Byron Bay, so I’ve kept it.”
As Morrison reflects on his post-political life, he takes a moment to acknowledge a media institution that had been a thorn in his side during his tenure, The Betoota Advocate itself.
“Oh yeah, I always got a kick out of their little jabs,” Morrison says, grinning.
“I’d read their take on whatever was happening with my government and laugh… then read it again just to make sure they weren’t getting too personal.”
Despite the cheeky headlines and relentless coverage of his prime ministership, Morrison insists he took it all in good humor.
“There was a point where I thought, ‘Maybe I should send some anthrax to their newsroom or have that latent homosexual Clancy Overell knocked off his Harley,’ but cooler heads prevailed. I decided I should probably just let it slide,” he says with a smirk, leaning on the bonnet of a freshly waxed Proton Jumbuck.
“After all, they’re just doing their job. Just like I was.”
Sources say Morrison’s management style has translated seamlessly to his new post, adopting a strategy reminiscent of his political career. Rarely seen during peak hours but always present.
“He’s great to work with,” says Ashok, a part-time university student.
“He’s always talking about how it was ‘a shock’ to learn I wasn’t studying electrical engineers but he’s pretty passionate about carwash.”
And it seems the locals are warming to the idea of their former PM overseeing their car’s weekly spruce-up.
“At first, I thought, ‘Nah, it can’t be fucking Scott Morrison sitting on the bonnet of my fucking car,'” says Blakehurst resident and Jumbuck pilot, Dave. “But then he came out with a microfibre cloth and gave my windscreen a polish and started barking orders in perfect Bengali and I thought, ‘Fuck, that must be him!'”
While some might consider this a step down from the lofty heights of Australian politics, Morrison himself insists it’s all about finding the right balance.
“People always say I love the quiet life, that I was never a fan of the hustle and bustle,” he muses, adjusting his ponytail with a knowing smile. “Now I get the best of both worlds. A job that keeps me busy, but without all the noise of Canberra. Plus, the staff here are a lot more cooperative than a Coalition cabinet meeting! Smarter than the Nationals, too!”
As for the future? Morrison is coy.
“I’m just focused on doing the best I can for the people of Blakehurst. I’m not ruling anything out,” he says with a wink, before gesturing toward his colleagues, squatting in the shade smoking and looking at their phones.
“But for now, I’ve got my hands full and these bastards need motivating. Excuse me, I just need to say something. আপনার চারপাশে অলস ছোট হাঁস মিথ্যা বন্ধ করুন! আমাকে আমার ঠোঙা দিয়ে তোমাকে চাবুক মারতে বাধ্য করবেন না!”
It’s a new chapter for the man who once carried the hopes of a nation, and if nothing else, Scott Morrison’s pivot to carwash management proves one thing. He may no longer be steering the ship, but he sure knows how to hold a hose now.
More to come.
