“As poor as a church mouse”.

From context, we can almost certainly assume that a church mouse is indeed poor. But what are we to make of this?

The phrase tells us nothing of the cause of the mouse’s poverty. In fact, it gives us almost nothing to work with in this regard. The church mouse is not poor because it is a church mouse. In fact, it is a church mouse because it is poor, and cannot afford a mortgage or the price of a hotel room. It is forced to throw itself on the mercy of the parish for its room and board.

Are there poorer mice than church mice? Certainly one never hears of a hostel mouse, or a borstal mouse, or a one-bedroom-flat-with-an-outside-loo mouse. When it comes to a slim bankbook, the church mouse seems to have the most proverbial currency (the currency of proverbs).

Is unemployment the root of the mouse’s financial hardship? Was the mouse made redundant? Was its job of mousing sent overseas, to a developing nation without the history of solidarity and industrial action to ensure it high standards of labour and living? Is the mouse a union mouse, carrying its card in the Mouse’s Union 110 (Eating Cheese and Squeaking)? Do the best-organised strikes of mice aft gang agley?

If it is a church mouse, does the mouse find solace in its faith, to carry it through its time of hardship? Is it a Catholic mouse? The Catholic Church is a wealthy institution, but the mouse’s parish might be underfunded, understaffed - it may even have fallen out of favour with the church’s internal politics. Is it a Protestant mouse? Does its failure to function as a productive member of society cause it shame and humiliation? Is it a Muslim, a Jew, a Hindu, a Buddhist? Has it forsaken material possessions for a life of spiritual reward? Does it consider itself poor at all?

Is the mouse participating in a Work for the Dole scheme? Has it considered Mutual Obligation? For that matter, is it being Alert, Not Alarmed? Does it realise that its concern with its cheeseless churchboundness while the nation is under the Shadowy Threat of the Terrorist Peril smacks of devil’s Reformism? Will the vicar be called up in the middle of the night to be told that the mouse is in a safe place and won’t be seen for a few weeks (renewable)?

While these are grave issues for the Beardless Intelligensia to think about, we can all sleep easier in our leather beds knowing that the little fellow living on hymnbooks and sins, unable to afford a pencil to change his voting address and likely to be detained by the Federal Government on suspicion of being an Unordinary UnAustralian is, after all, only a mouse.