Really, George Harrison, this is going too far – I have enough prophets.

Due to, I presume, the human drive to explain things, justify existence, and have certainty about life after death, people throughout the ages have turned their sweet little heads to prophets for answers. These prophets are, loosely speaking, men masquerading as gods, and you may recognize some famous faces from a recent (and past) bestseller, The Bible. Examples include Ezekial, Jerimiah, and others.

Biblical prophets formed a line of communication between god and man, and one of their main purposes was to forewarn humans of earth-bound difficulties. In the modern age, jeans, t-shirts and cellular communication not being as romantic as robes and parting of the seas, many people are driven to outsourcing for their prophecies. Not so me, however, as I am the lucky holder of several personal prophets – some visiting me with regularity, others making a one-time appearance. Two visitations spring particularly to mind as examples of each.

MY GUEST STARRING PROPHET: In May last year, just after Sir Joh Bjelke Petersen kicked his racist and regal bucket, I happenened to be driving to uni. It is my fashion, as I have mentioned, to Volvo happily to my place of employ. As I was driving thus, whose ghostly visage did I see careening along in a beat up Ford Cortina, but that of Bjelke. It was not the strong and young Petersen of the seventies, however, but rather the old and liver-spotted Joh of the wheelchair.

What does Joh’s presence mean? I pondered to myself, as I Volvoed past him.

Sir Joh, as he appeared to me in late 2005.

A few days after this, Bjelke-Petersen appeared to me again, this time crossing the road at a set of lights. I knew what the stop sign meant, but what did he signal? Was there something he wanted of me?

At uni racism and discrimination are my research focuses, and it is additionally a personal campaign of mine to oppose civil liberty violations. Maybe Joh had repented in his death, and picked a humble Ford as the chariot of his tolerant and inclusive post-mortal message? Conversely maybe he had come to try and stop me from spreading my left-wing hippie bullshit any further?

REGULAR PROPHET: A more regular and consistent prophet of mine is a student that I tutored early last year. He was certainly the oddest boy in any of my classes. He is an exchange student from mainland China, but now lives in Australia – when I taxed the class to write me a research based essay he instead turned in a creative writing piece about love, life and death. I see him around uni, in town, along my street, whilst driving… everywhere! He walks like he is floating, knees bouncing up as his reefer-clad feet seem to avoid ever touching the ground. He wears a light coloured t-shirt tucked into long shorts that he pulls up right to his chest! For me he signals reflection, and the need to look for meaning in things.

The other day I was having coffee with a friend at uni and my prophet floated past.

“Quick!” I bellowed to my companion, “It is the boy who is my… I mean it is the lad who I tutored…. I mean a messiah… Quick!!” But it was too late. The prophet’s black head was bobbing away through the crowd, leaving my fellow coffee drinker staring at me bemusedly.

RECENT VISITATIONS: On Thursday afternoon I was in Cooroy, walking to my car, laden with groceries. As I crossed the road I saw George Harrison, wizened and hairy, whip past my on a bicycle. I think in doing so he may have been sending an environmental message – ride, don’t drive!

George, minus his guitar, and plus a bike, appeared to me on Thursday.

But George Harrison was never the man I expected to see. You know when someone you know sees a demi-celebrity or the likes (perhaps Sandra Sully at the shops, that sort of thing), they bounce up to you excitedly and ask,

“Guess who I just saw!!???”

In cases like this my answer is always the same.

“Alf from Home and Away?” I ask, enthusiasm never dulled by fact that this has never been the case.

I’m not really sure why I want to see Alf from Home and Away, why him and not the publicity mad Harold from Neighbours?

The man I hope will bear my next prophecy.

But I just do.