By the time this article is published, I will be somewhere in Perth’s CBD, marching through the CHOGM security area and hoping I don’t get my teeth knocked in.
I will have taken the train into the city. What with all the police helicopters about, driving anywhere south of Leederville is beginning to make me feel a little like Henry Hill in Goodfellas’ “Sunday, May 11, 1980” sequence. (“He thinks I’m paranoid. I should bring him the f-ckin’ helicopter. Then we’ll see how paranoid I am.”) Besides which, the train stops at Forrest Chase, the hive of fast-food outlets and speciality stores where the anti-capitalists are meeting. Where better to protest corporate greed, after all, than a strip-mall in a strip-mined state?
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