Gerard Henderson, and take care, it's a jungle out there ...

(Above: oh yes, it's splitter and commie time).

There's no greater fun than hunting for reds under the bed.

As a child, I always thought the monsters lurked behind the toilet door in the verandah-adjacent dunny, but then things got clearer when a kindly soul explained that they could always be found under the bed. Thereafter I routinely checked before going to sleep, and while it led to peace of mind, strangely I never discovered a genuine monster, just a lot of ineffectual fluff.

Thanks to Bob Menzies and his failed attempt to ban the Communist party in Australia in the nineteen fifties, Australians routinely check the notion that "persons of interest" might lurk anywhere in daily life. Even be your neighbour right next door! Or sit next to your child at school!

Right now in Sydney there's an exhibition about Persons of Interest, featuring ASIO's monster-watching, which managed to include those opposed to apartheid (the fiends) and those who took to feminism (the appalling hussies), and which has also sparked a documentary by that "person of interest" Haydn Keenan (Uncover Australia's secret history).

It goes without saying that the pond knows a few of these "persons of interest" and a more banal suburban aggregation of placid folk you couldn't manage to find (unless of course you get wildly agitated by Frank Hardy's The Yarns of Billy Borker, or even worse, that shocking Marieke Hardy, who so upsets Andrew "Nut and" Bolt and who outraged the world with her shocking The Christopher Pyne experiments, here Reduxed.

Truly these ratbag larrikin stirrers are responsible for all that's wrong with Australia, as opposed to Tony Abbott and splendid captains of industry wearing double breaster suits, digging up the Liverpool plains and a fracking site right next to you in your inner elite urban cocoon, and shipping the results to China so that at least one country can enjoy a super-fast train ride.

This is of by way of an elaborate introduction to Gerard Henderson, a most intrepid hunter of reds under the bed, who always assiduously peddles the notion that the Greens are watermelons. You might think they're a bunch of harmless tree hugging cardigan wearing greenie nutters, but if you look closely you can notice sweet red sugary flesh, and a hideous spotting of black seeds (yes the greenies refuse to accept the mutational benefits of seedless watermelons).

Drawing himself up to his full hubristic height (I'm told this isn't terribly high), Henderson starts off It's not so easy being Green in this jungle with a pompous warning, as befits a prattling Polonius:

A little hubris is a dangerous thing. And a large dose of arrogance can prove fatal.

But even before then I began to get worried about the dominant metaphor, accompanied by a Shakespeare portrait of Bob Brown swinging through the jungle, Tarzan-style, on a vine (and no, there's no time to argue about the relative virtues of Johnny Weissmuller, Gordon Scott, Ron Ely, and Christopher Lambert to arrive at who was the definitive Tarzan).

If there's a political jungle, who plays what role? Is the maned Gillard a lioness? Is Tony Abbott a great ape? Or should that role be reserved for Anthony Albanese? Is the Liberal party made up of dangerous jackals and hyenas, and can a mincing poodle pass as a jackal? (no disrespect to members of the family Hyaenidae intended).

Sorry, once again we've trooped off elsewhere as tedium reading Henderson sets in. You see, Henderson takes it unto himself to remind Bob Brown of how many seats he has in parliament, and how many votes the Greens obtained in the last election, as if this news will astonish readers with an interest in Australian politics.

It seems Brown is unnecessarily provocative and presumptive, with delusions of grandeur, as if Henderson would approve of the Greens and their philosophies if they presented as a small target without provocation or presumption.

Worse still, Brown hasn't just been after Labor, he's been bagging Tony Abbott, exhibiting a special vehemence, and yet Abbott is so lovable, such a nice puppy let loose in the jungle. After all, thanks to him and the Liberals, they provided the preferences that saw Adam Bandt score a seat.

Even worse, Lee Rhiannon might have been voted into her seat by Liberal party preferences, except she wasn't! But if there'd been a 4,000 difference in votes, she might have been! There, take that Bob Brown, stick it in your hat and smoke it.

Then it's a wag of the hat, tip of the finger to the fate of the Democrats - there, let that be a lesson to you, uppity Greens - and of course that quintessential Henderson phrase:

They might benefit from a brief glance at Australian history.

As a columnist who frequently distorts and mis-reads Australian history, trust me, Henderson knows what he's talking about.

Of course if you looked at Australian history, you might have thought you'd noticed a trend for third and minor parties, and occasional fragmentation around the two or three major parties (for the sake of the debate let's call Barners and the Nationals a major player as opposed to a tasty bit of rump steak), and that this has been going on for some considerable time - right back to the days when Billy Hughes formed the National Labor Party and did a deal with the Commonwealth Liberal party (here).

There have always been minor party eruptions, seeking out the left and the right spectrums, and there have always been earnest scribblers chiding the eccentrics, the Hansons, the Katters, and the others, and urging them to form a simple duopoly along the lines of Coles and Woolies, while at the same time nattering on about what a great country Australia is for its rugged individualism and capacity for embracing endearing eccentric larrikinism, and without the slightest hint of irony or awareness of contradiction.

If Henderson thinks this is going to go away, like the movement to form the state of New England, then he's got another thunk coming.

But in the end, his latest outing is just another of the interminable pieces about the Greens now holding the balance of power in the Senate, along with the usual doomsaying, and of course with that 'red under the bed' hunting that has made Henderson justly famous in his own lunchtime.

The object of his ire is of course Lee Rhiannon, and his final couple of pars provide as fine an example of attack and denial, and the shouting of 'splitter' as can be found outside a Monty Python comedy sketch.

In the end, it all comes down to this:

It is likely that the Greens' influence will last at least another two years. However, Brown has to balance his leftist and environmental wings while hoping to retain preferences from the major parties along with the support of the electorate. It will require much skill and an absence of hubris.

Yes, it's prattling Polonius stating the bleeding obvious, yet again. Just once I'd love to read a column demanding full blown hubris and a complete absence of skill, and so approving of Tony Abbott's policy response to the demands of climate science.

Never mind. Perhaps we should have spent more time working out who'd turned politics into a jungle, and who might be best playing the role of Tarzan ...

Oh Christopher, how can we say this politely. Next ... but we'll keep you mind mind if a role comes up in George of the Jungle III ...

(Below: they might be a little out of date, but if you see anyone wearing this kind of thing, tar and feather them and run them out of the jungle).