Can you hit a six by blocking a few Murdochian balls and the crony commentariat?

(Above: First Dog helping the pond maintain its war on the hypocritical stench and sludge that is jolly Joe Hockey. More First Dog here).

And so to lighter things.

The reptiles at the lizard Oz don't do journalism as such - they much prefer if it involves revenge, payback and frontal assault.

Here's a couple of examples doing the rounds in the current digital rag:

Fukushima?

Okay, go stand in the corner for a while and say repeatedly I will not make fatuous, meaningless comparisons in the header.

And take Mark McDonnell with you while you're at it.

It's about what we'd expect from the Typhoon Haiyan of newspapers ...

What else?

Oh dear. EXCLUSIVE to the pond, the reptiles are gnashing their teeth and howling into the pit of despair with resentment and jealousy especially of Tony Jones, the leader of the pack (vroom, vroom).

250k or so? We should be glad we're not back in the salad days when Nine once paid Kerri-Anne Kennerley some $500k a year (dear sweet long absent lord, did they once pay Tracy Grimshaw 700k, Liz Hayes 650k and the likes of Catriona Rowntree, Scott Cam and Tara Brown all 500k+?  (must be true, the pond read it in News Corp here). No wonder the commercial networks are in such a state ...

The pond hates to preach free market gibberish to the true believers, but you see it's one big melting pot of a market for skilled front people, and sometimes ABC staff are lured by the bright lights, though in the case of Ellen Fanning, it might be sad to observe the effect of a bruising encounter with vodka-peddling Dan Aykroyd on the lesser ABC ... or is that the lesser Al Jazeera these days, given the content of the news service?

Never mind, the reptiles can keep on ranting about how overpaid the ABC slugs are, what a drain they are on the taxpayer, and so on and so forth, but how about we now learn how much star members of the crony commentariat are paid?

What's it worth to keep the likes of Janet 'Dame Slap' Albrechtsen on staff, dishing out the bile?

She's at it again today, the pond sees:

This time the target is Hedley Thomas's bête noire, the Titanic Clive Palmer.

So why does the pond find this routinely amusing?

Well the main form of attack in recent months is that Clive is an out of control, dangerous, self-interested billionaire, who is using politics to pursue his own business agenda and his own private empire-building activities. Yes, and your point is? You want to remind us of another stray billionaire?

Uh huh. Speaking of billionaire Rupert, and never mind any talk of criminal charges still unfolding in Britain, has he gone clap happy and religious in his old age, as he feels the impending wrath of the long absent lord, and at best thousands of years in purgatory for his worldly sins?

Dear sweet long absent lord. Rethink much? With a foot in both the Catholic and the evangelical camps, and never what the difficulty of reconciling the whore of Babylon with crazed judgmental fundamentalism.

And what on earth does this mean?

Who hired those damned ignorant consultants? Who signed off on them? The CEO? 

Say the word, and the pond will send the bludger responsible packing ...

But back to Dame Slap, who sadly phrases her column in the most coy, saccharine and cloying form, a personal letter, as you can read in Focus on the main game and score some runs, Clive, if you can summon the energy to work your way around the paywall.

Now the pond knows very little about cricket, but the keen eyed will have noted that the advice in the splash - block a few balls - sits very oddly with the header's score some runs, Clive.

Is bunting the best way to hit a home run?

Anyhoo, after months of vilification by the rag and its minions, Dame Slap has decided on a personal approach and a personal touch:

Dear Clive, 
First, kudos to you. Despite being mocked by the political class as a buffoon billionaire, you won the Queensland seat of Fairfax. And, against many predictions, your party also won at least two Senate seats. This is a spectacular result. But, Clive, here is the big question. What will you do with your victory? 

Block a few balls? Or bollock News Corp balls?

You've talked about lower taxes, less regulation, making it easier to grow a business and therefore the economy. You've said the carbon tax must go, that we must generate mineral wealth, encourage small business and steer clear of class war politics. 
Despite these fine sentiments, the Clive Palmer brand is lost in a blizzard of weird allegations about the CIA and Chinese spies, a dinosaur park run by unhappy staff, dodging the carbon tax, defamation proceedings, rebuilding the Titanic, twerking, accusations that the Australian Electoral Commission is corrupt, claims of a Watergate-style break-in at your office, and so on.

Yes, yes, it's almost as bad as News of the World, blather about Billy Graham and Pope Francis and so on.

Never mind, Dame Slap's advice - in the crony commentariat style - is actually just more of the News Corp same, a thinly veiled sneering, smug, condescending slagging off of the kind routinely deplored as being in the style of dangerous inner city 'leets:

You see the problem, Clive? Amid this bluster, your policy message is lost. You have the money to get some professional help here. Rudd adviser Bruce Hawker and Gillard spin-doctor John McTernan might be free. On second thoughts, scrap those names. But you understand the point. Get help. Play to your strengths. Finesse your message.

But what's the real message?

Well Queenslanders are pretty weird, and Clive an even weirder, shifty, evasive, silly bugger idiot savant without the savant, and for a closer, in an almost immaculate conception, Dame Slap manages to weave together the dastardly ABC, the outrageously overpaid Tony Jones, cricket, Hedley Thomas, and Clive, and a really stupid, way too extended sporting metaphor:

Here's another tip from neither friend nor foe. We, in the media, are just doing our job when we inquire into your business dealings. You may not like the scrutiny but it's part of public life. Attacking the media - especially the most intellectually curious members of the media - didn't work well for the two former Labor prime ministers. 

Which entirely misses the point for a rogue billionaire - attacking two former Prime Ministers worked very well for rogue billionaire Rupert Murdoch, and attacking Rupert has worked perfectly well for Clive, who seems to be following the Citizen Kane/Chairman Rupert line:

THATCHER I happened to see your consolidated statement yesterday, Charles. Could I not suggest to you that it is unwise for you to continue this philanthropic enterprise - (sneeringly) this Enquirer - that is costing you one million dollars a year? 
KANE You're right. We did lose a million dollars last year. 
Thatcher thinks maybe the point has registered.
KANE We expect to lost a million next year, too. You know, Mr. Thatcher - (starts tapping quietly) at the rate of a million a year - we'll have to close this place in sixty years.

Unless of course Hedley finally does at last prove Clive is a man without capital, though he's struggled in that task to date. But do go on:

You may think Tony Jones is "the best journalist in Australia". We get that you prefer the soft touch the ABC has accorded you. But if keeping Australians genuinely informed about you and your party is the test, Hedley Thomas at this newspaper is doing a remarkable job. You may prefer to dodge questions about the financial viability of your most prominent businesses, whether you have created jobs or destroyed jobs, your management style, your claims about a $500 million royalty stream, about never losing a court case, etc, but it's the job of a good reporter to investigate facts and ignore your bluster. 
As an MP, Clive, you are a protector of our democracy. 
But so is an independent, inquiring press. 
Here's the problem, Clive. You're a slogger at the crease and a tail-end batsman at that. You're trying to hit every ball for six, no direction, no purpose and seemingly reckless about the results. It doesn't seem to matter to you whether you're bowled, caught or hit a six. 
Having rocked the political establishment, it's time to focus, Clive. Block a few balls. Let a few through to the keeper. More Geoffrey Boycott, less David Warner, please. Choose one important one for the hard-working people who voted for you and your party - and hit it for six. Canberra could be richer for having a businessman there. But will it be, Clive? Only you can determine the answer to that question.

Actually the reptiles and the crony commentariat could help determine the answer to that question.

The relentless focus on Palmer, and the relentless Hedley Thomas crusade is bizarre, and has helped Clive keep his deep north schtick going full bore. It doesn't seem to matter if the actual news uncovered is a bowled, a caught behind or despatched to the boundary for six ...

And it leaves the Clive acolytes with an easy retort, of the kind you can find here, in Hedley "Black Knight" Thomas' Descent into Madness, which tackles Hedley on an allegation of a misappropriation of funds:

Sir Hedley is not very enthusiastic in this pitiful attempt to defame Clive Palmer. The Black Knight won’t go anywhere near anything which could see another defamation writ land on his desk. Little details like Mr. Palmer turning around the failed business and actually saving it from being scrapped are ignored. 
Of course the biggest instance of this type of contractual skullduggery is well documented. When Rupert Murdoch realised his life-long dream to buy the Wall Street Journal the family based owners insisted he sign a detailed document which guaranteed editorial independence and ensured a continuation of the family’s management philosophy for eternity. From memory Mr. Murdoch’s respect for the wishes of the previous owners lasted about as long as it took for the funds to be transferred. He deliberately and blatantly ignored the conditions which had in fact been the major sticking point in coming to an agreement.

You see, Dame Slap? You and the rest of News Corp are just feeding the beast. Do you really think your condescending imitation of Jane Austen, or perhaps Pamela, is really going to produce a new and changed Clive?

Of course not. You need each other, you feed off each other, you score easy columns out of the feud, and Hedley scores endlessly repetitive copy, mistaking a flurry of leg byes, wides, no balls and singles for a bumper crop of investigative journalism sixers ...

You know it, Clive knows it, and so does Hedley, who will no doubt keep on maintaining the rage, as he did in Why we need to worry about the real Clive Palmer, and Lateline delivers a mutual admiration society (behind the paywall to save you from another Tony Jones rant), and so on and so endlessly and interminably forth, when Hedley's not scribbling paranoid rants about how the world is out to get the fine, upstanding, truth-telling journos at the lizard Oz...

Well Dear Dame Slap, if we may be so bold, the pond will get on board the very moment we read your column entitled Why we need to worry about the real Rupert Murdoch, and Hedley Thomas delivers a denunciation of the editor of the lizard Oz's attitude to the Abbott government, perhaps under the header The Oz reptiles deliver a mutual admiration society ...

For the rest, it's all a hoot in the land of hoot, and chairman Rupert and his lickspittle crony commentariat remain the biggest hoot of all, with Clive a rank amateur not entitled to enter by the professionals gate ...

And they say the pond doesn't do enough cricket! Well you can blame Dame Slap for that bumper crop of bent arm balderdash ...

(Below: and speaking of the reptiles and their forelock tugging, as their hero stumbles through his first real diplomatic challenge, shorn of simple three world slogans yet bizarrely imagining that blaming the Labor party for things that happened on their watch will somehow cut it as an excuse with the Indonesians, you'll find more funny knavish Popery here, a surer and safer bet than expecting you'll find a statesman buried in boofhead boxing rugger bugger Tony Abbott. Sorry slugger, the bat is in your hands. Why not try to hit a six?)