In which the cowardly, craven Caterists pop up to abuse the good citizens of Gungahlin, aka nowheresville ...

(Above: and as always more Pope here).

It was inevitable that the head, detached from the body, would keep on rolling around in a bloody mess, but thanks be unto Pope, the pond's bestest papal advisor, the pond suddenly remembered Chairman Rupert ...

How is the doddering old bugger going?

Sounds almost fascist? Well you know what they say, it takes a fascist to spot a fascist ...

Meanwhile, it was inevitable that the show the pond doesn't watch would again be a headline hogger.

Now it's not just because blogger can't handle the ampersand in the show's title that the pond dislikes the show. It's because it generates much heat and little light.

Who would want to spend a nanosecond in the company of little Timmy "free speech" Wilson as he goes on about suppressing the right to speak?

Who could stand watching that professional bloviator and pompous ass Paul Kelly go about his Murdochian business, unless they had a serious desire to be transfixed by chin wobbles?

What's to be gained watching Kelly summonup a paroxysm of rage and indignation, which in old Victorian days would have seen him diagnosed as a hysteric, in need of some kind of treatment inducing detumescence?

As for craven, cowardly Alan Trudge, too wimpy to face the light, he only exists so that we might all enjoy a David Rowe cartoon (and as always, more Rowe here).

The pond hastens to add that it is not Alan Tudge, but does enjoy Spartacus, especially that once lost, then recovered scene, where Sir Larry leers at Tony Curtis and speaks of oysters and snails ...

Oh yes, but as to that Pope cartoon, sure enough, the news today, it almost goes without saying, is that the pack of hounds is still out and running, in a feral way, howling at the moon, baying at anything that moves, neighing at the fiendish notion of a public broadcaster and its outrageous thought crimes.

This is just a quick sampling:

Though perhaps not so much an ass as Peter McAllister ...

Go dog molester go ...

There is comedy to be had of course, most notably that splash featuring the grisly Dame Slap. Who else but the arrogant one could talk of cultural arrogance? Who else could join in the public hanging at the square and not realise she's just a fair average part of the rat pack set loose by the hound meister?

The shrieking, howling, baying Murdochians talking of cultural arrogance?

It's all too tedious of course, though it does show how fortunate Australia is, how luxurious the lifestyle, that this sort of distraction, hysteria and fear-mongering could run for days in the Murdochian press, as if nothing else in the world was happening.

Here the pond must pause to give Bill Leak a special tip of the hat. His recent efforts have been outstanding, an exemplary example of what happens when you tipple hard and long on the kool aid that runs free in the office:

You see, how the clever cartoonist manages to weave in the current hysteria with climate science? By golly, falling off that balcony did wonders for his wit ...

But it serves as an important introduction to the pond's guest for the day.

Now the craven, cowardly Nick Cater ducked the opportunity to do a Q and A session, and the pond applauds him, but really, he should have taken a more principled stand.

He should boycott the whole of the ABC and forever, and the pond would applaud him for being a man of integrity and vision.

It's just a distant dream, a hope, a vision, but please allow the pond a smidgin of optimistic delusional thinking ...

As it is, the wretch is still turning up on the ABC to complain about the ABC - he did it on RN this very morning - which shows he still has a little way to go before he understands how utterly tedious and what a dial shifter he is ...

Why doesn't he just frolic amongst the Murdochians like the little train that couldn't?

Ah well, it's the peter principle at work where the dullest knife in the drawer is given easy, gummy work to chew on, so let's get down with the jawboning.

Where else could you find a man confusing and conflating a tram with climate science?

Now let's try to ignore the traducing of the citizenry of Gungahlin - you can Greg Hunt the noble district here.

Sure there was almost 50k living in the area, sure there might be advantages in having other kinds of transport, but remember, if you're going to become a Murdochian commentator - a noble ambition, let it be said - you must always show a thinly veiled contempt for the citizenry, and perhaps on occasions allow yourself a little joke about oysters and snails and a "tram to nowhere".

Because outside your own fetid navel-gazing, everywhere is nowhere. Now if a lefty did this, they'd be accused of being out of touch and out of sympathy, but in Murdochian circles, you score brownie points showing contempt for people who might benefit from public transport - the poor, the young, the elderly, or to put it more succinctly, the losers and the drop kicks ...

From there you can quickly jump to climate science and Belarus and wind turbines and the outrage of a First Dog cartoon:

You see how easy it is?

Having called the good citizens of the Gungahlin district - wherever that might be - losers and dropkicks living in nowheresville, you can suddenly, with the grace and style of a Torville or a Dean, do a Silicon Valley pivot, and find yourself berating the paradox of the sophisticated classes, and their peculiar notion of inclusiveness - which of course can't include the good citizens of Gungahlin, living the long absent lord knows where, except it's nowheresville ...

Keep on with this sort of pivoting, and you could find yourself routinely showing off your dull edge, stupidity and inconsistency in a Murdoch rag near you.

And so, summoning up the sinews, it's on to the closer - always be closing, as the used car salesman used to say - but take care, because now we must pivot to slag off the ABC, because sigh, when you're a bear of little brain, you must always imitate the other bears, no matter how tedious the other bears are, or repetitive to the point of redundancy:

And so you see the dullard at work, pivoting once again, to talk of a gated community, as if somehow the class dunce had announced he was moving out to Gungahlin to live with the good citizens out there, who'd been mocked by the cardigan wearers at the ABC ...

In short, we're back with the monkey grinding away to the organ grinder's tune, and there's nothing new under the sun, and lordy lordy, there's the Caterists doing a Bill Leak and managing to join the mad Mallah with climate science, and pretending they're at one with the common folk and live outside the gated community, except who'd be an idiot and live in Gungahlin ...

It must be truly wondrous to be a Caterist.

Oh wait, speaking of new under the sun, there's a small distraction going down elsewhere in the world. What might it be, Mr Pope?

Hmm, now how can the pond link that to the ABC and Q and A (and never mind the ampersand) and trams and nowheresville and First Dog and gated communities and sophisticates?

Sigh, failed again at becoming a Murdochian columnist, but let's face it, at least the Greeks aren't rocking the boat on climate science ...

And so to that cartoonist who seems to have outraged the Caterists, and you can find more First Dog here.

The pond has already failed the test, but you might make the cut. Develop a dullard mind like a Caterist and you'll come top of the class: