A Protopian Gambit · track 18
Don't Throw A Brick (Fill A Form)
analysed
A broke, rent-hiked citizen stands outside Parliament at night, a loose brick already in their fist, watching a minister dodge questions on a wall-mounted TV. Instead of throwing it, they open an app: the C-Hour token pings for helping Nan with the shopping bags, and a nerdy Legal RAG A.I quietly cites decade-old legislation back at the minister on screen. The brick goes down on the purple mat; the form goes up.
Arc: It starts with a furious renter staring at a Parliament wall with a brick in mind, and ends with that same hand setting the brick down to pick up a purple ledger and a form.
Images to shoot
a hand cradling a loose red brick outside a Parliament wall at nightan empty coffee cup lit by phone-glow while a thumb scrolls a feeda suited politician dodging like a dodgeball game, freeze-framed mid-ducka shiny purple digital ledger weaving coins into a closed circlea C-Hour token minting with a cartoon 'Cha-ching' as a tree is planteda spray-paint can hissing 'Pssshht' then lowered, cap clicking back ona nerdy Legal RAG A.I hologram citing a dusty statute at a ministera truth engine described as running on sand, glowing from Minjerribah
Phrases for posters and merch
Verbatim lines that stand alone, for lyric posters, metal prints and t-shirts.
Don't throw a fit, mate, throw a Form!
Bricks are analogue. Bricks are slow.
We need a robot lawyer that never gets tired!
Joyful Abundance! It's serious fun!
We're gonna follow the rules until they faint.
It's a truth engine, baby, and it runs on sand!
We're auditing the nation starting today!
Put the brick down. Pick up the future.
Line by line
“I know the vibe is "empty coffee cup"”
Macro on a drained paper cup on a windowsill, blue phone-light raking across it. The last visual scrap of a person too broke to refill it.
“You're staring at the Parliament wall…”
Low wide shot from behind the protagonist: sandstone Parliament facade filling frame, their small silhouette, one arm cocked. Hold the stillness before any throw.
“He's dodging questions like he's playing dodgeball”
Cut the minister into a literal comic panel: a rubber dodgeball whizzing past his ducking head, speech bubbles bursting empty. Keyframe that becomes video.
“And you're thinking about a brick. Don't throw the brick.”
Split-second fantasy insert of the brick already in flight and glass cracking, then hard snap back to the brick still in the resting hand. Shoot the impulse, then deny it.
“Bricks are analogue. Bricks are slow.”
The brick rendered as a grey low-res pixel block, glitching, next to a crisp purple UI. Old-world texture versus the new civic interface.
“It's P.4.A! The Purple way!”
A civic counter flips to purple across a community hall wall, everyone's screens turning the same violet. Brand the frame Straddie-purple, the mats underfoot.
“So you helped your Nan with the shopping bags? (The old system says: Worth zero price tags!)”
Warm handheld: grandkid carrying bulging bags up a stair with Nan. A red '$0.00' price sticker slaps onto the frame, then peels off as the ledger overrides it.
“We're weaving the money in a brand new circle.”
Overhead of purple thread or coins literally braided into a ring on a community-hall table, hands weaving. Motif for the Braided Economy outro.
“You planted a tree? Cha-ching! You're rich!”
A sapling goes into GajraEarth soil; a comic 'Cha-ching!' burst and a C-Hour token coin spins up out of the dirt like a game reward.
“(Well, in social capital, which helps with the glitch).”
The token's shine flickers and glitches for one honest beat. Shoot against the hype: the reward is real but not yet spendable, and the song admits it.
“So put down the spray paint. (Pssshht—stop music)”
Extreme close on a finger on the nozzle, one hiss of purple mist, then the whole soundtrack and image freeze. Cap clicks back on. Silence as a gag.
“We're gonna follow the rules until they faint.”
Absurd sight gag: a towering stack of compliance forms so tall the rulebook itself swoons. Comedy of overcompliance as rebellion.
“We got a Legal RAG A.I, it's a total nerd.”
Personify it as a bespectacled hologram at a lectern beside the minister, calm and dweeby, flipping through statute pages faster than the eye can track.
“It cites the legislation from a decade ago!”
The A.I pulls a dusty, cobwebbed law-book off a public-ledger shelf; the minister's spin visibly deflates on the wall-mounted TV. The robot's flat 'No.'
“It's a truth engine, baby, and it runs on sand! From Minjerribah, the finest in the land!”
Pull back to Straddie: the glowing engine sits on white Minjerribah sand at dawn, solar-storm light on the horizon. Root the whole system in that island.
“Put the brick down. Pick up the future.”
Final gesture, matched cut: the same hand from shot one lowers the brick onto a purple mat, then lifts a phone showing a completed Form. Close on the brick left behind.
Lyrics
(Verse 1)
I know you’re mad, I know the rent is up
I know the vibe is "empty coffee cup"
You’re scrolling through the feed, seeing pollies spin
Thinking, "Where do I even begin?"
The TV says there’s a crisis every day
And the guy in the suit has nothing real to say
He’s dodging questions like he’s playing dodgeball
And you’re staring at the Parliament wall…
(Pre-Chorus)
And you’re thinking about a brick.
Don’t throw the brick.
(Music kicks back in, harder)
Bricks are analogue. Bricks are slow.
We got a weirder way to go.
(Chorus)
Don’t throw a fit, mate, throw a Form!
We’re taking the system and we’re changing the norm!
We don’t need a riot, we don’t need a fire
We need a robot lawyer that never gets tired!
It’s P.4.A! The Purple way!
We’re gonna audit the nation starting today!
Joyful Abundance! It’s serious fun!
We’re measuring the good things that you’ve done!
(Verse 2)
So you helped your Nan with the shopping bags?
(The old system says: Worth zero price tags!)
But we got a ledger, it’s shiny and purple
We’re weaving the money in a brand new circle.
It’s the C-Hour, friend! It’s a digital token!
For fixing the stuff that the market left broken.
You planted a tree? Cha-ching! You’re rich!
(Well, in social capital, which helps with the glitch).
(Pre-Chorus)
So put down the spray paint.
(Sound effect: Pssshht—stop music)
Don't spray the paint.
(Music kicks back in, funky bass)
Graffiti is messy. Compliance is quaint.
We’re gonna follow the rules until they faint.
(Chorus)
Don’t throw a fit, mate, throw a Form!
We’re taking the system and we’re changing the norm!
We don’t need a riot, we don’t need a fire
We need a robot lawyer that never gets tired!
It’s P.4.A! The Purple way!
We’re gonna audit the nation starting today!
Joyful Abundance! It’s serious fun!
We’re measuring the good things that you’ve done!
Here’s the plan, it’s the Overcompliance Mandate.
We don’t just meet the standard, we inflate it.
We declare every donor, we declare every lunch.
We check the Federal, State, and Local laws in a bunch.
We got a Legal RAG A.I, it’s a total nerd.
It fact-checks the Minister on every single word.
They try to spin it? The robot says "No."
It cites the legislation from a decade ago!
It’s a truth engine, baby, and it runs on sand!
From Minjerribah, the finest in the land!
(Chorus)
So don’t throw a fit, mate, throw a Form!
We’re taking the system and we’re changing the norm!
We don’t need a riot, we don’t need a fire
We need a robot lawyer that never gets tired!
It’s P.4.A! The Purple way!
We’re gonna audit the nation starting today!
Joyful Abundance! It’s serious fun!
We’re measuring the good things that you’ve done!
(Outro)
(Harmonies fading out)
Overcompliance… (It’s kinda sexy)
Braided Economy… (Weave it together)
Pee for Australia… (Buy a urinal cake)
Seriously…
Put the brick down.
Pick up the future.