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The Secret Diary of Professor, Professor, Professor Bob Carr

Dear Diary,

At last I have reached the pinnacle of human academic achievement, so much so that I do not consider it unreasonable to begin referring to me as a deity henceforth. Here I stand, a God among mere mortals; I am almost enough to make me believe in a higher power once again. I never did know a religion quite so baritone.

But I digress.

Recently, I confirmed that I will be joining the University of New South Wales as an adjunct professor in Asia, China and international relations. This is in addition to my professorial fellowship at the University of Sydney’s Southeast Asia Centre, and the jewel in my crown of teeming professorships, the directorship of UTS’s new Australia China Relations Institute.

I am confident I will be the most superior Chairman of all.

I have directed my plebeian assistant to re-print several thousand business cards with my new title “Professor, Professor, Professor Robert John Carr”, and eagerly hit ‘send’ on a press release informing the world of my latest achievements in acquiring titles I never dreamed of furnishing my name with when I was but a young, scrawny lad in Matraville.

“Let them eat Bob cards!” I exclaimed, as I threw five hundred crisp new business cards out of my office window on unsuspecting students yet to be graced with the wisdom that bubbles forth from my brain, and in turn, my tender, adequately moisturised lips.

Not content with the sub-par option of purchasing artwork for my new tripartite university office network, I have begun painting my own in the vein of the wizened and utterly imbecilic George W. Bush. I do not need an approving nod from the candid photo of Henry Kissinger I keep beneath my pillow to know that my self-portrait finger paintings far surpass anything taxpayer money can buy.

My time has come again. I rise from the ashes, a phoenix reborn as the majestic creature of towering intellect that shall reign supreme over universities galore.

I must leave you now, dear diary, to inquire as to whether my kale smoothie has been prepared by the serfs with thirteen drops of honey, no more and no less. I shall write to you soon again when the minds of Australia’s future foolish elite are firmly under the grasp of my ever-widening influence.

With self-love,
ProfProfProf Bob

Ammy Singh [twitname]ammyed[/twitname]