Gerard Henderson, prattling Polonius strikes again, and how to smuggle the budgies for the benefit of French dressing ...

(Above: advice to Tony Abbott from Polonius:

Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy,
For the apparel oft proclaims the man,
And they in France of the best rank and station.)

In an exceptionally long and dull exercise in stating the bleeding obvious, our prattling Polonius has contributed a missive on the current leadership fracas, its resolution, and the ascending of Tony Abbott to the throne.

But because we're running a book on Gerard Henderson's scribbles, and as a journal of loon record, it's only appropriate to note the results on view in Lodge is as long way off, but new man will shore up base.

First mention of John Howard in column: 1st par.

Number of mentions of John Howard in column: 4

Only a fair average performance, but the stayers will do well if they stayed in the short odds ring.

As for the rest, on the one hand, I'm inclined to do a gloss of Henderson's scribbles, and on the other hand, I'm disinclined. On the one hand, I cherish his long digressions into Australian political history to make a point as obscure as an alchemist spinning gold from lead. On the other hand, I tend to get bored silly. Or as Tony Abbott might say. Shitless.

On the one hand, I would like to continue chattering about Tony Abbott from the viewpoint of an inner urban elitist, and on the other hand, I really can't be fagged chattering about an elitist executive director of the Sydney Institute chattering about Tony Abbott, especially as he sounds more like a desiccated coconut rather than someone who's benefited from a few chardonnays.

So here's Henderson's conclusion:

Abbott is not likely to be prime minister any time soon. But he has a chance of stabilising the Coalition by shoring up its base. This would be a reasonable start for an almost accidental leader.

Right, cleared that one up. After that, I've decided unilaterally to hand this piece to the real Polonius:

Yet here, Tony! aboard, aboard, for shame!
The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,
And you are stay'd for. There, my blessing with thee!
And these few precepts in thy memory
See thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any unproportioned thought his act.
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar (or shitty).
Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel (especially Nick Minchin);
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Of each new-hatch'd, unfledged courage. Beware
Of entrance to a quarrel, but being in,
Bear't that the opposed may beware of thee.
Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice;
Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy,
For the apparel oft proclaims the man,
And they in France of the best rank and station
Or of a most select and generous chief in that.
Neither a borrower nor a lender be;
For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
This above all: to thine ownself be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Farewell: my blessing season this in thee!

Second thoughts, instead of the prattling Polonius's, why not drop in on Peter Costello - the man without the guts to run for the leadership - trashing Malcolm Turnbull. A mad era best forgotten - along with Hewson and Latham.

No he's not talking about John Howard and his own time as the smug smirking smarmy fundie loving Cheshire cat of Treasury.

Now the Turnbull experiment is over. It is not surprising that it came to this. Tony Abbott has his opportunity. He has everything before him. The party must lock in behind him and move on. And to do that, the past year is best buried and forgotten along with the madness of the Hewson and the Latham eras.

As for the rest, the prattling Costello sounds remarkably like a prattling Henderson, and thereby sounds a lot like a prattling Polonius. Shore up the base, comes the cry, stand solid with Wilson Tuckey and Bronwyn Bishop and George Pell comes the cry.

But how to do it? My kingdom for a policy.

Oh well how about a bonus Monty Python sketch to help Abbott in the art of argument?

What do you mean, I can't wear budgie smugglers? Well you shouldn't. Well I can. No you can't. Yes I can. Who cares what the French think? You should. Especially if you want to attract Miranda the Devine. What if I don't? Well you should. No I shouldn't. I can and I will wear budgie smugglers. No you can't. Yes I can ...

... And who said you had a mandate on climate change? Well we did. No you didn't. The public did. No they didn't. Yes they did. Well if they did, it was only until I said they didn't, and so now you don't. Yes we do. Yes we did. No, you don't, no, you haven't. Yes we can. No you can't ...

And so on and so forth at a higher level of screeching until one or the other retires to a darkened room with a bex and a hot cup of tea: