By Andrew Dyson September 11, 2005  Malcolm Turnbull is a bona
fide dreamer. He has the vague manner of the sleepwalker and his
rare periods of consciousness are punctuated by alarming REM
episodes. When he speaks in Parliament his fevered reveries
invade the chamber, only to be subdued, with some difficulty, by
alert security personnel.  Having crafted a republic model that
confused everyone and an amusing tax system that recklessly
allows for a measure of equality, the original Mr Turnbull has
proposed that every Australian be allocated a lifelong email
address. This would ensure that publicity-shy citizens can be
reached by such long-lost friends as Big Dave, who would dearly
love a rematch of that epic battle in the Village Green car park
circa 1976, or Easy Wendy, whose troubled teenage offspring has
caterpillar eyebrows remarkably similar to your own, poor girl.
Your personal electronic pigeonhole would also provide a vital
resource to long-forgotten relatives deeply concerned about your
failing health