So what does Miranda the Devine, little Ms parrot, come out with on the day of the Queensland debacle?
One thing can be said for this parrot.
She can get her Murdochian lines off by rote as she heads off on a witch hunt ... as if somehow it's Credlin's fault that Abbott and the federal government is on the nose, and quite possibly it's Credlin behaviour and policy-making that caused the uproar in Queensland, and the debacle.
Is there nothing Credlin can't manage to wreck and ruin?
Not in Miranda the Devine's parrot cage, as somehow she even manages to drag in Joe Hockey and Mathias Cormann being photographed enjoying a cigar.
Sheesh, that's the trouble with nannies these days, they're never around when you need them most.
But hang on, hang on, let's go back to the beginning, so that it can be clearly seen that it's all Credlin's fault, and nothing to do with that boofhead master of nattering negativity:
Yep, that's clear as lead.
It's clear Peta Credlin personally wrote out the lines for Tony Abbott, so he could claim he was a very good captain, and she made Tony learn the lines, and then she insisted they be delivered letter perfect, because, like any good scriptwriter, the puppet mistress resented the puppet trying to improve on her masterpiece.
Just say the lines, you drooling robot, you automaton you, you cattle, she told Tony, like a martinet Hitchcock, and sure enough, what a good little parrot he too turned out to be ...
Well if you believe that, why not share a kool aid with Miranda the Devine?
On and on the parrot rants, and it's a reminder that when the Devine berates the sisterhood for being ultra bitches, she knows how to lead by example:
By golly, that Credlin's responsible for everything, including him coming up with misogynist lines, and the monarchist bee buzzing around in Abbott's noggin.
Never mind that Abbott confessed it was he that committed the Prince Philip gaffe, and that Credlin, at the time they began, had opposed the revival of knights and dames ...
Yet somehow it's all Credlin's fault.
Talk about the emperor's new clothes ...
Well if you believe the ranting of the Murdochian parrot, providing an extended, bitter gloss on the original tweet, then the kool aid is working, and you know how to perform a thousand small atrocities as you lump all the crimes of a fearless leader on to a member of his staff.
She might be the chief, but is she the Chief?
About now you're probably asking why the parrot broke Godwin's Law.
Well if you aren't you should be, because Miranda the Devine has Stalinist form when it comes to this sort of personal abuse (yes, Stalin counts amongst krazed right wing members of the kommentariat, as much as Hitler and Mao).
Remember the various corollaries and extensions of the law, here:
Sorry, Martin, when krazed kommentariat parrots go about the business of eating their own, it's not just liberals who cop the epithet. It's Liberals, female Liberals being the worst of all.
Hey ho, nonny no, now we're primed, on we go:
And she runs the office like an Orwellian gulag.
Yes, that's worth a break out box. Why the shameless hussy's as bad as that dreadful Stalin man, who slaughtered millions ...
And the hapless pussies, Liberals without balls, simply can't stand up to the Stalinist. She's too strong, and they're merely males in search of a joke in New Idea, and the hapless PM doesn't have a clue, all he's got is a "benign gaze".
You know, like that "benign gaze" he gave that television reporter ...
But hold on, if she's a Stalinist, doesn't that mean that Tony Abbott is Uncle Joe Stalin himself? Old uncle Tony "Joe" Abbott lurking in the lodge ...
Around this point, most readers would be consumed by laughter or tears.
The world has moved on, and it moved on so quickly after Queensland, that Miranda the Devine, a bear routinely relied upon to show she has very little brain, was caught high and dry with yesterday's copy and yesterday's party line.
This very day the discussion has moved beyond Credlin, and on to Abbott.
Why even the Chairman himself tweeted the news:
That's not just a message directed at the puppet mistress, that's a tweet directed to the Feds, and more particularly to Tony "Joe" Abbott ...
Even the Bolter's moved past the Credlin bashing. He knows Queensland was about Abbott and Abbott's policies, and not his chief of staff, though that might be a fun bashing game for Murdochians wanting to install their own puppet in the job, in much the same way that Abbott once contemplated appointing Greg Sheridan to a plum post.
Cue the Bolter:
There's more if you want to do a Campbell Newman google - just for the memory of a man so strong he made Charles Atlas weep with tears of envy - but here's the Bolter's final words for those who don't like rewarding the ratbag with a click:
Abbott hasn’t had Newman’s freedom to smash through as he tackles another Labor debt, thanks to a mutinous Senate. But he, too, has broken promises, picked too many fights, announced radical schemes without real consultation and made idiosyncratic decisions such as reinstating knighthoods. Abbott is a good man, but has built an image of a leader out of touch, unpredictable and too self-willed.
Australians can’t be commanded, tricked, bullied, surprised, taken for granted or treated like fools. How many leaders have learned that already - Paul Keating, Julia Gillard, Jeff Kennett…
I don’t know if Abbott can recover, but I do know he won’t unless he immediately shows he knows the public is his master.
You see, Ms Devine. It's not about Credlin, it's about the actual PM, old Uncle Tony "Joe" Abbott himself ...
It's around this time that the pond began thinking again, very fondly, of one of its favourite arrogant characters in literature, Oscar Wilde's remarkable rocket.
You can find it here with other Wilde stories in that collection, and it ended this way:
“Hallo!” cried one of the boys, “look at this old stick! I wonder how it came here;” and he picked the Rocket out of the ditch.
“Old Stick!” said the Rocket, “impossible! Gold Stick, that is what he said. Gold Stick is very complimentary. In fact, he mistakes me for one of the Court dignitaries!”
“Let us put it into the fire!” said the other boy, “it will help to boil the kettle.”
So they piled the faggots together, and put the Rocket on top, and lit the fire.
“This is magnificent,” cried the Rocket, “they are going to let me off in broad daylight, so that everyone can see me.”
“We will go to sleep now,” they said, “and when we wake up the kettle will be boiled;” and they lay down on the grass, and shut their eyes.
The Rocket was very damp, so he took a long time to burn.
At last, however, the fire caught him.
“Now I am going off!” he cried, and he made himself very stiff and straight.
“I know I shall go much higher than the stars, much higher than the moon, much higher than the sun. In fact, I shall go so high that——” Fizz! Fizz! Fizz! and he went straight up into the air. “Delightful,” he cried, “I shall go on like this for ever. What a success I am!”
But nobody saw him.
Then he began to feel a curious tingling sensation all over him.
“Now I am going to explode,” he cried. “I shall set the whole world on fire, and make such a noise that nobody will talk about anything else for a whole year.” And he certainly did explode. Bang! Bang! Bang! went the gunpowder. There was no doubt about it.
But nobody heard him, not even the two little boys, for they were sound asleep.
Then all that was left of him was the stick, and this fell down on the back of a Goose who was taking a walk by the side of the ditch.
“Good heavens!” cried the Goose. “It is going to rain sticks;” and she rushed into the water.
“I knew I should create a great sensation,” gasped the Rocket, and he went out.
Well there's already one great, sensational stick in the Queensland mud, and there's a federal stick about to follow, and it will take more than sacking Peta Credlin to stop the great sensation ...
(Below: an illustration from an early edition by Walter Crane)