Highway robbery, Australian style.
Ned Kelly, the vaunted bushranger, was shot 150 years ago, but his spirit of redistributing the wealth of the rich to himself has been adapted, with a telling alteration, by state governments in this upside-down land.
Here’s how it goes down – or, rather, went down yesterday, at my expense.
I weas driving in a law-abiding fashion into the center of Melbourne, intent on doing an errand assigned by my sister-in-law, to the benefit of my charming nephew Neddy, 7. Proceeding along a main road past the mighty Melbourne Cricket Ground, in the left lane, as I was proceeding cautiously, as a tourist. As signs on the roadway insisted I must, I turned left – I had no choice, for a second reason, too: a lane of cars proceeded quite rapidly on my right, towards the central station.
Alas, upon finding myself on the roadway to the left, I was confronted by large signs saying Toll Road, You Must Have a CityLink sticker or day pass to be on this road... or something of that kind. “To avoid a traffic fine, call 13 26 29.”
I drove on the road for approximately 100-130 yards, then exited at my earliest opportunity.
That night, upon dire warnings from my brother about the consequences of not calling, I did. I learned that I had a choice: I could risk getting a $40 ticket, and this was a near certainty, because all cars that enter the roadway are photographed; or, I could purchase a day pass.
Well, how much is that?
That’s $9.80.
Say what!?
$9.80, but that pass is valid for 24 hours from the time you first drove on the road.
Explanations, as above: Useless.
Well, who can I complain to?
I dunno. We’re just the company that runs the system; we don’t make the laws or set the fees and the fines.
Well, who does that?
The government.
The government? Like, the governor, himself, or some department...?
Yeah, some department, I guess. The government. I dunno. But you can pay for the ticket here, by credit card.

I did.
But this morning I called again, eventually spoke to a government department - Civil Infractions Division. Then I spoke again to CityLink, where a friendly and happy young woman informed me that there really was nothing I could do. I explained the event, again, and she said, Oh, yeah, we’ve had a lot of complaints about that bit of roadway. In fact, we’ve had so many complaints that the operators here have told our supervisors about it, and they’ve told the government, and I understand there are moves under way to do something about it.
But nothing can help me.
I requested a copy of a receipt for my $9.80 payment. Oh, no, they can’t send out receipts; in fact, the government gave them a special exemption so they don’t need to send receipts for any amount less than $50.50.
“But I’m planning to bring a law suit for extortion, for arbitrary governmental action, for highway robbery!!!”

According to Narelle, or whatever her name was, I should have simply stopped just stopped my car in the midddle of the intersection, blocking all traffic behind me, and waited until it was possible to move over to the right.
But there were no signs even announcing that I was about to enter a toll road, with no alternative but to stop traffic or ram into cars on my right.
Oh, yes, there are signs, there, sir.
Saying there’s a toll road ahead and that it’ll cost me $9.80 to drive on it for 100 meters?
No, they say CityLink. Whenever you set that sign, and it’s in different colors from the regular road signs, it means that it’s a toll road.

Someone please tell the Victorian Department of Tourism.

Apparently, when the former government - the Liberal (conservative) government of the arsehole Jeff Kennett, negotiated the contracts with CityLink (who surely must have handsomely lined someone’s pocket to get the gig), he allowed for tolls on roads that were the only ones that accessed certain city buildings, parks, and so forth. As the result of some uproar, that was eventually changed, but the ongoing revenue-raising exercise that is the downtown toll road raises barely a wimper from the dutiful Australian public. This is the people, right, who are supposed, in their reputation abroad, to be predominantly rebellious, individualistic, and outspoken. That’s a laugh.
Planning on attending the 2006 Commonwealth Games, for which this whole section of Melbourne is being dug up, spruiced up, and sported up? Take my advice: When you get there, walk. Or take taxi cabs. Even at the exorbitant rates charged in Australian cities, they’ll get you there a lot more cheaply than the deceptive, extortionist roadways.

Just to show that the passivity of the Australian consumer extends more broadly: When you log onto public hotspot services, they erquie prepayment by credit card – at the exorbitant rate of $14/hour – but they don’t return any unused credit to you, and you can use your time only in that one log-on period.
And, when you park downtown in machine-operated pay parking, the chargs aren’t posted until you get in, and they’re $6 from sun-up to 5:30, and that charge is for one second or 12 hours. If you decide you don’t want the service under those ludicrous conditions – because, say, you’re intending to be there only for 10 or 20 minutes – too bad, you’ll still have to pay $6 to get out of the lot, even if you leave within 15 seconds.

Neddy, 7 (and a half) believes he and his mate Angus are the first children ever to realize that you can make farting sounds by sticking your hand in your armpit and cranking. He also is adept at doing it with both knees at once. For this maneouvre he needs to roll onto his back and stick his knees in the air, and then crank those with his hands back of them.
He isn’t the best at doing the farts, he has to admit. Angus is the best. He can also do them with his two hands cupped, and with his neck, iby a procedure that Neddy has not yet figured out.
No, he’s not the best, Neddy admits. But he’s going to be soon, he promises.