Day umpteenth of the Bronnie saga, and lo, while the Fairfaxians are predictable, look down there, in the left hand corner - where subversive leftist thoughts lurk - but still on the front page - the reptiles of the Oz have deigned to acknowledge the saga.
Big Mal has taken the train to Geelong, Julie Bishop has assured everyone Bronnie has a mirror and is looking into it, and finally the reptiles are on the case ...
Just look at their digital illustration ...
And the heavies have been wheeled in to have their say:
Well we all know that Savva woman is a worry, but et tu bouffant one?
Yep, ep tu it is:
Indeed, indeed it is capable - in fact in any other part of the world aside from reptile central it already has - but let's not get too alarmed, because the bouffant one is a blustering buffoon who blows in any breeze, a dunny door that will flap in a zephyr, let alone a gale.
Uh oh, it's worse, much worse than that, because the thunderer has thundered, and that surely settles the matter.
Read in awe, puny mortals, see how the reptiles writhe on the spit of discontent:
Not the most egregious act by a serving politician? Names and deeds and acts please, so they may be drummed from service, but how soon now before the dull axe falls on the hapless neck?
Meanwhile, another saga continues on, which allows for some stupendous displays of hypocrisy.
Yes the thunderer also thundered on that matter:
Say what? A call for Andrew Bolt, heart and soul of the unusual and unsettling treatment, to be sacked?
But the hypocrisy didn't end there, because the very epicentre of the viper Bolter, the HUN, tried to pretend they were right onside:
It almost induced a fit of nausea in the pond. Were they backing the Tigers backing Adam?
Were they then finally giving the viper Bolter his marching orders, like an errant Bronnie who'd gone too far?
What said the Bolter?
Was he wearing a green carnation and an indolent air of ennui?
He'd rather talk about paintings ...
But he couldn't help himself ... just like Oscar:
I always pass on good advice. It is the only thing to do with it. It is never of any use to oneself.
Yes apologise uppity black. Let all the uppity blacks apologise for stepping out of their assigned place ...
How dare you get upset at being called an ape. Why it was huge fun in Planet of the Apes ...
Of course the Bolter might show how it's done. By apologising to Adam Goodes for his relentless demonisation of a footballer. It would be brave and hard, but very effective. Making clear he actually wasn't a racist, though he's damned pesky difficult blacks many times for ruining the country ...
Of course the viper Bolter was in something of a funk as it became clear that the tide might be turning, and people might actually think there was a racist element to the booing, and that his endless tirades against Goodes might have had something to do with it.
Of course the Bolter was too discreet and polite to mention that the panel had noted the viperish Bolter as racist central.
How shocking, how outrageous, how wrong. His raging at Adam Goodes has nothing to do with racism. Why doesn't the big ape just apologise and then everyone could go about their business and all this talk about indigenous pride could be put back in the cupboard where it belongs ...
Of course the viper Bolter is irredeemable, but this day he faithfully recycles the bouffant one and Savva.
Why, we can recycle the viper Bolter recycling Savva and save a click or two:
Bill Shorten still has a lot of work to do to convince people he is serious about boat turnbacks and that his renewable energy target is more than a thought bubble or a sop to the Left. However, his recovery and repositioning have benefited mightily from one major factor that has bought him time, and that has been corroding the Tony Abbott’s authority and drowning out all other messages from the government: Bronwyn Bishop.
And the day before the Bolter pronounced Bronnie a problem:
When even a man with a horde of faithful racist followers deems Bronnie an issue, perhaps she should just apologise and begone ...
Well at least she's got something to apologise for ...
And so to the Pope of the day, which removes any need to talk further on another sordid matter ... but which has a strange and eerie echo of all that viperish Bolterish talk of Adam Goodes playing the victim (and more Pope here).
Yes apologise Mr Goodes, you're ruining life for the Bolter, and now he must talk of paintings.
Shame on you, shame on you, and there he was hoping you'd become a line in a Rolf Harris lyric: