Oh dear sweet absent lord, it's Brendan O'Neill on about the nanny state for the squillionth time ... in an organ of the nanny state ...

(Above: do you really need a link? Do you? Wouldn't you rather be hit around the head with a baseball bat? Oh okay, if you must, here he is bashing away at The Drum, thanks to the Australian taxpayer and the Australian government, and don't you worry about that, O'Neill just loves the public teat to suck on and rant about. He probably can't believe his luck, seeing as how there's lots at home that just treat him like a tosser and keep him fenced in at Spiked).

Here's a libertarian thought bubble for you. Brendan O'Neill is now so predictable, reading his rants is a complete waste of time. He churns his quasi-libertarian muck out like a threshing machine on steroids, or a chook laying eggs while trapped in a cage.

That's the sort of thing that leads chooks to attack their neighbours or attempt self-harm. Quick, de-beaking is the only humane thing to do ...

What's even more offensive is the way the ABC puts him near the top of the mast to provoke the troops.

So instead of reading and responding to the wretch - as the cardigan wearers do in squirrel-like droves - why not have fun with him, devising as many variations as you like - perhaps 33, in honour of the number Beethoven managed with Diabelli's theme. Let's start the ball rolling:

The Government's campaign to put seat belts into cars is petty authoritarianism mashed together with an anti-fun driving outlook.

The Government's campaign to take asbestos out of Chinese-manufactured cars is petty authoritarianism mashed together with an an anti-asbestos outlook.

The Government's campaign to make people drive on the left hand side of the ride is petty left-wing authoritarianism mashed together with an anti-American right hand side of the road outlook.

The Government's campaign to make sure seafood doesn't contain too much mercury is petty authoritarianism mashed together with an anti-battery outlook.

The Government's campaign to insist that zebra crossings be obeyed is petty authoritarianism mashed together with an anti-lion outlook.

And so on.

O'Neill must be exceptionally pleased after a hard day's typing, facilitating the supplier of addictive poisons to the masses. Well somebody's got to work out ways to kill off the lumpenproletariat, and what better way than to shill and pimp for the suppliers of tobacco?

It'd be mean to wish that he enjoys an old age replete with lung cancer, emphysema, heart disease, stroke and sundry other diseases that addictive carcinogenic tobacco can induce in people as they troop off to overflowing hospitals, but since that's what he seems to think is a good thing for others, why not for him? Or maybe he can just sit and watch a loved one die a painful death?

Or do an Ayn Rand and go on welfare because those medical bills just keep adding up. All the while muttering about how his right to kill himself has been seriously infringed by plain packaging ...

O'Neill's rhetoric is now so predictable it produces rich comedy, as when he cranks into adjectival over-drive:

This snobbish, disdainful view comes straight from the anti-globalisation movement of the 1990s and 2000s.

Oh yes, it's an international conspiracy, which naturally involves achingly elitist sentiments.

What's more, O'Neill has the cheek to cherry-pick a quote from Karl Marx as a way of proposing that advertising is a civilising moment. Yep, Karl Marx gives a flying fuck about advertising, consumerism, branding, and tobacco companies. He was an addicted chain-smoker and there's a fair chance that cigarettes contributed to his wretched stateless death.

O'Neill's deploying of Marx in support of cigarette brands, Nike and the like is such a stupendous abuse of process that he should be banned from The Drum forthwith, but fat chance of that, not so long as he can soak up Australian taxpayer dollars while moaning about the nanny state.

All right, that's the comedy out of the way, today comes the news that Tsar Putin - a real throwback to Ivan the Terrible and head of a nanny state terrified of hooliganism - has presided over the persecution of Pussy Riot with world-wide coverage and mockery arising therefrom(no doubt aided by the band's irresistible name).

Why doesn't O'Neill spend a little more time having a go at the wayward children of Marx? Suddenly a little demo in a church is worth two years in a Russian slammer?

And then comes the news - well it's hardly news, so much as yet another confirmation - that the United States has indeed been conducting its own Star Chamber into Julian Assange for a year or more, and the quivering, craven Australian government has known about it, and dissembled and fudged about it. (US in pursuit of Assange, cables reveal).

The pond is looking forward to a letter from its local member "Albo" Albanese, requesting help in the approaching federal election.

The pond guarantees to provide as much help as the federal government has provided to Assange - please note lifting the little finger will come at an extra cost. The pond proposes to meet Albo in the lounge of the brand new second Sydney airport to hand over the dosh to help in his campaign ... somewhere around 2050 perhaps.

What else? Well The Australian continues its exclusive efforts to dig up the dirt in relation to Julia Gillard and her then partner and her job at Slater & Gordon. The feral tories really won't give it up until the witch is dead and buried, and they'll leave no vile trick or stone unturned to achieve it.

And wouldn't you know it, the Murdoch press has already begun its series of bleeding heart stories about the suffering of refugees, on the principal that you can attack any policy coming and going.

The first whiff the pond caught of this was the tabloid Terror's shock horror story Manus Island detention centre run-down, termite-infested, and today The Australian continues the hand-wringing by putting at the top of the digital edition New offshore processing regime bars appeal on asylum. (paywall afflicted).

Yep, by the time Tony Abbott ascends to the throne, the press will have guaranteed itself an endless supply of stories about genuine refugees sewing their lips shut, rioting and otherwise drawing attention to their suffering.

As for the virtues of the much touted Pacific solution? Of the total 1637 "unauthorised arrivals" detained in the Nauru and Manus facilities September 2001 - February 2008, some 1,153 (70 per cent) were found to be refugees and ultimately resettled to Australia or other countries (as you can read here in the sedate prose of an aph report in pdf form).

With odds like that, what's the chance you might still decide to flee war-torn Afghanistan, a country fucked over for a decade by Australia, amongst others. That brings to mind an old Tom Tomorrow cartoon:

When Tony Abbott keeps talking about a return to the Howard years, has he any vestigial memory of the diabolical mess arising from the hardliner policies the Howard government pursued?

Not really. All Abbott cares about is power, and the lust for power, as perfect an example of the corruption of mind and soul as has been since that casebook study of Gollum and his precious ring.

Perhaps the most revealing phrase of all in relation to Abbott in recent times is the homophobic tinge to his line:

''You would well remember—and your colleagues should be aware—that the only codicil that you put on that was: 'I will do anything, Tony, to get this job; the only thing I wouldn't do is sell my arse.','' Mr Windsor told the parliament. (here).

Why sell your arse when you can sell your soul?

Not to worry, it's Saturday. Why not settle back with a Karl Marx cigar instead, but don't expect any help from Brendan O'Neill if the smoking leads to a little illness. Why not weigh down the public hospital system instead?

So many geese, so much cackling; so many chooks, and so many tainted eggs ...

(Below: did Karl score any royalties for his very own brand? In his and your dreams ...)