Comrades,
If the Pinko's think that the next election is a fait accompli then they better watch out for rats in the ranks, of which they have a very long and dirty history. You just never know where they are in the woodwork.
Of course, one they don't have to worry about is PM ScoMo's latest best buddy Warren Mundine - a rattus rattus of long standing - having quit the ALP Presidency, and then the party altogether to become chief of the Mad Monk's ill-fated and toothless Indigenous Advisory Council, that never appeared to do anything at all, and was abolished a year ago. So it was only a matter of time until Mundine fell into the clasping clutches of the Tories as their candidate in the seat of Gilmore, the most marginal Lib-Nat seat in all of NSW. Great idea. Parachute in a Pinko turncoat, against the vote of the local Tory caucus who'd already endorsed a local real estate agent. Good one ScoMo, taking a leaf out of Mad Tony's playbook and making a Captain's Call par excellence [wasn't the Aberrant Abbott's last master stroke giving one of those short-lived and now rare Australian Knighthoods to Phil The Greek?] As some rabid Pinko in an uncharitable mood said to me mid-week, Mundine, "like much of his family", is a "self-aggrandizing self-promoter". He is, after all, an uncle of that well known loud-mouth Anthony "Choc" Mundine; not that you should suffer guilt by association with yr family or anything like that. Oh no. Not by any means. But the skipper's pick remains shrouded in mystery.
As he chugged on beers and stuffed endless sausage sangers into his gobhole under a red, white and blue bucket hat, ScoMo had a great Straaayaaa Day Long Weekend as all of a sudden no less than three Ministers of the Crown cashed in their chips, deciding they had better things to do with their lives like "spend time with the family". Really? They could all see that dreadful day of judgement coming from a long way off, and having got well used to lording over their respective Departments, did not fancy the idea of returning to Opposition and sniping from the sidelines. The Minister for the Poor, Sick, Weak, Old, Halt and Lame, the Minister for the Unemployed and Dead-Beat Layabouts, and the Minister for the Aborigines are all now fed up to here and have left our Glorious Leader to fend for himself. Rats, alright. Soon there will be no one on the front bench left to quit in a fit of pique. In the wake of the Mundine call, it's ironic that the gun-toting former mackerel fisherman and Country-Liberal Party Senator for the Northern Territory, Nigel Scullion, hung on to the Indigenous Affairs portfolio through no less than three Prime Ministers, simply because nobody else wanted that particular poisoned chalice. Anyone want it now? Nigel doesn't.
Never mind public image or anything so superficial; the Govt. is literally falling apart - its shit stinks so much that the rats are leaving the sinking ship, while another notable rodent backs the wrong horse and jumps on board. Go figure?
If all that wasn't bad enough for the ruling classes, it was pleasing to hear Zali Stegall referred to in the press as a "barrister and former Olympian" [Albertville, Lillehammer, Nagano, Salt Lake City] when she made clear her intention of making an independent run for Warringah, voluntarily putting herself forward to head up the well-established "Get Tony" ticket on Facebook. All power to her oars. In the current mood, the electorate has had more than enough of Half-Term Tony. The world has passed you, and yr budgie smugglers, by, son. At long last, all washed up on Manly Beach at age 61 come May.
I was once again mortified at being so rudely brushed for Straya Day honours yet again this year; it hurts, and let's face it, what more do they want me to do? And there was also something quietly disturbing about Olivia Neutron-Bomb effectively being made a Dame of the Realm, as the Companion of the Order of Straya is generally regarded as the colonial equivalent of a knighthood/damehood, while Our Kylie (Minogue) was only made an Officer of the Order at age 50 to add to her 2007 OBE. Cruelly snubbed, she was. To be fair, tho', both could also mount good cases for being appointed joint Strayans of the Year. [Just please don't get me started on Peter Reith and Warren Truss, OK?]
In any case, all this nonsense will come to an end soon enough when King Charles the Turd assumes the Throne and Crown and they "change the date" from January 26 to January 1 [which I have always advocated as Australia's National Day, being the date of Federation in 1901 and a celebration of the Miracle of Democracy]. That way you can have two public holidays at New Year, the 1st & 2nd, then you could roll the old Straya Day, Anzac Day and the Queen's Birthday into Easter for an enormous, huge, massive, tremendous, bloody bewdiful Mighty Mega Long Weekend - no less than five public holidays in a row to celebrate the world renowned and undisputed luckiness of the Land of the Long Weekend. Put that to a vote and see it romp home. You know it makes sense.
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