hell hath no fury

Seen on the Canterbury Rd, Canterbury, Division of Grayndler, Sydney, NSW. Photo: The Miracle of Democracy.

Comrades,

A week before the real Campaign swung into dynamic action, poor ol' ScoMo was getting such a bad press. Said it before and I'll say it again: it must be bloody awful when everyone hates you, all the time. And it's the Kid President's fault. Macron kicked off the whole shebang when he was asked after that outrageous secretive back-stabbing contract-busting bullshit that was going on behind closed doors viz-a-viz the Barracuda's if he thought Australian Prime Minister was a liar. The Kid replied in his trademark well thought out English with "I don't think, I know". It was the most cutting of blows, from which Scotty from Marketing will never recover. An ouch moment on the international stage par excellence. (Don't talk elections with Emmanuel - he'll piss it in with the French right hopelessly split and sail home on the Pinko's first round vote). So really, it was no surprise at all that the soon-to-be former Senator for New South Wales, Concetta Fierravanti-Wells, did not hold back on the vitriol in her valedictory speech to the 'House of Pain', given she's held a grudge against Morrison for a good 15 years. Still, saying in effect that there's no place in The Lodge for a bullying psycho who uses his faith as marketing was a mighty fine way to pour petrol on the embers of a long-burning loathing. It must be dreadful when your own kind are queuing up to give you the blowtorch to the belly treatment after months of missteps &  miscalculations in the Phony Campaign. The Masters of the Dark Arts might say "the optics don't look good". As it stands, the CEO of the ALP's Dirt Unit, Kristina Keneally, won't have much to do at all if the Tories continue to tear themselves apart. There's no truer phrase in politics than "disunity is death", and a challenge to ScoMo's intervention in the NSW branch to impose his attack dog's candidates going all the way to nowhere in the High Court is proof enough that these particular bastardos - in the public mind - are not to be trusted. The PM's justification of "but I was standing up for some good women Liberal candidates! I stood up for them!" created chuckles among my female acquaintances with a "yeah, the right women from your faction, mate". Let's not mention My Mate Tudgey, shall we? The former rising star Christian Porter? Never heard of him. Parachuting the evangelical far right into safe seats is all well and good - but as sure as hell, there aint no votes in the "sex them at birth" brigade. Not when you don't know where yr next dollar is coming from.

DJ Albo got out of the blocks in a fairly tardy fashion; certainly no Ben Johnson or Usain Bolt when it comes to the starter's gun. He's never had that swagger. Never will. Of course he doesn't know the unemployment rate or the cash rate or any rate at all, because they're made-up figures that no-one has any faith in nowadays - if they ever did. Lies, damned lies, and statistics. I don't know what they are, do you? Why not start with the price of eggs? That's the issue. What exactly are the Pinko's to do about the curse of Stagflation? That's the fundamental question that needs answering, not silly numbers produced by creative accounting otherwise known as book cooking. And it was lazy journalism to boot, as any genuine hack worth their salt would've sprung the 'gotcha moment' in the last week of the Campaign, not the first. Just plain dumb. During a Campaign, the mug punter has the attention span of a gnat. Never mind the opinion polls with margins of error all over the shop and 25% of the electorate having no idea who they'll vote for - survey's of voter's intentions are about as meaningful as they were last time out: meaningless. And it's all about Queensland, metropolitan Perth, and outer western Sydney anyway. The rest hardly matters.

You couldn't help but notice there's been no holding back on offerings of porcine products, otherwise known as blatant vote buying, despite the marvellous sports rorts affair, not to mention the even better commuter car parks scheme etc etc from last time around. It took no time at all to see that master of retail politics, Barnaby "BoJo" Joyce, on the Campaign Trail flitting about here and there trying hard to shore up shaky support in the last redoubts of the Country Party. Putting on his Regional Development Minister's ten gallon hat and immediately tipping a mere $1.5B into a second port in Darwin to export ill-gotten Timor Sea gas (on account of the built port  has been leased to the Chinese for a million years), not as a campaign promise mind you, oh no siree, but as L-A-W law shit that cannot be meddled with in the future "we are not mucking around or having the Territory on here" were about his exact words - was an absolute corker. Funny that it turned out to be common or garden bullshit. But it matters little. It's the thought that counts. A billion here, a billion there - it all adds up at the ballot box. Line a pocket or two to make yet more money for everyone all along the way, and Bob's yr uncle. Little wonder the Inbred Tomato and other higher ups in the Conservative/Country Party Conglomeration would be quaking in their boots at the very thought of a Commonwealth Independent Commission Against Corruption with investigative Royal Commission powers. They must be shitting bricks if the Ruby Princess fell on her own sword as the Premier of NSW when all it took was the mere look of "guilt by association" in matters of pork down at the NSW ICAC. It'd keep me awake at night too if there was any hanky panky or jive talkin' going on. And Albo reckons he wants one by Christmas. Wooah! Hang on! That's a bit early! Better get yr own house in order first, son. Reds under the beds! These people can tap yr phone! But he knows there's votes in corruption. The punters don't like it. Don't like it at all. What you got to hide, matey?

The latest resident loony toon in town the Hon. Craig Kelly's already been "egged" by a woman who then wanted to go on with it and was about to put up the dukes before being shuffled off by members of the General Public and the Campaign hadn't even begun! Fun and games everywhere you look. ScoMo's already had some pissed old pensioner in his face screaming "I'm sick of your fucking bullshit!". That's top form right out of the box, and there's another five weeks to do on the hustings! Plenty of time for Crafty Clive to become a tremendously slow-moving target for a well-aimed custard tart and a tipped off media. Now, this is not to advocate any form of violence whatsoever, but maybe the bloke who nutted Tony Abbott in Hobart could make a comeback? After all, when asked by the police why he had taken the opportunity to head-butt the by-then former half-term Prime Minister he told the cops that he always thought the wackjob was "an evil cunt" who deserved to have his bonce stoved in. Did two months in Risdon for that. For someone who was essentially homeless, time well spent, he reckons.