In which the pond searches for a change of tone, and wonders if calling the reptiles toadies will do ...

The twenty first century!

But it has befallen the pond to spend its time amongst the luddites of the nineteenth century, perhaps the single most monstrous exercise in human futility ever seen ... and with no excuse, save that it seemed like a good idea at the time, and never mind the risk of brain damage.

That said, and mindful of the lizards of Oz injunction that there needs to be a change of tone, the pond has been casting around for inspiration. This just in from Ms Tingle:

Hmm, you can find it all outside the AFR paywall here, worth a click just to read over and over that line about News Ltd toadies perpetually fawning ...

Well speaking of a change of tone, if that's acceptable, because it's true, then surely lackeys of the lick-spittle kind, obsequious flatterers, sycophants, crawlers, flunkeys, puppets and stooges remain acceptable, provided they also have the backing of truth. And they do ...

Now the pond has nothing against toads - the comedy provided by the aspirational vulgarity of Toad of Toad Hall springs to mind, and even the cane toad had an original useful purpose before it became a blight on the land.

But who can argue that News Ltd is full of toadies, though they take the form of reptiles?

The Surry Hills bunker is the home for the toadies, and the Daily and Sunday Terror their most faithful fortified bunker during this time of change. Don't let the seemingly enthusiastic front page this day fool you:

Over in the opinion pages, the wailing and gnashing of teeth continues, led by Miranda the Devine. The toadies just can't let their wailing and grieving and sackcloth ashes moaning and sighing go ...

First it's necessary to get past the hagiographic photo of enormous narcissist size:

Oh no, would it be wrong of the pond to gazump the Devine by getting a little tingle from the Tingle?

Uh huh, that feels better. Now fortified, let's move on with the Devine:

Oh dear, it's a little late in the piece, but there's the snap that should have sent a sword of remorse through the nation's heart.

A bit like this ...

Or this ...

Back to the Devine ...

 Ah loyalty ...

And as for Credlin? Well it seems the reptiles are happy for her, because now she's the Warrior Queen:

But back to the Devine, because it's time for a flurry of conspiracy theories and John Howard, of all people, to blame:

History will be kind to him ... as history has been kind to Billy McMahon ...

But you can sense the petulance, the depth of sulk of a toadie still deeply in the cups of despair.

Of course it's always possible to take a draught of Tingle to regain a little perspective ...

Well you won't find any of that in the toadies at the Sunday Terror.

They remain defiantly full of toadie spite, venom, fear and loathing.

Which explains why the pond laughed out loud at the reptiles wanting a change of tone ...

...when what's on offer is idle abuse and a large photo that would do Narcissus proud at the top of the column ...

Hopey-wishy mouth music!

And there in a few words is why Abbott and his toadie acoylytes participated in one of the great failures in politics, so tone deaf, so routinely offensive, so discourteous, that naturally the hipsters of Surry Hills danced outside the bunker, while downing latte after latte ...

On and on Akker Dakker rants in a style that is both hysterical and paranoid , and it goes without saying, in the comical way that has always endeared the reptiles to the pond ...

He has to demonstrate that he actually understands the views and values of the Liberal stalwarts who have for years handed out how-to-vote cards at polling booths, the Liberals who have run the cake stalls and barbecues, the Liberals who have fought on the ground against Labor and Green activists eager to subscribe to the UN’s international socialist agenda.

The UN's international socialist agenda! Climate change! World government! Black helicopters ...

And then the dark hints, almost the hope that Turnbull will fail:

Abbott ignored the warnings, missed the opportunity and was felled by the opportunists and pragmatists who placed self-interest (some claimed national interest) ­before their debt to the most successful Opposition leader in Australian history and the man who placed them on the government benches. 
They have a three-week break to make their argument for the change to their constituents and justify what many salt-of-the-earth Liberal foot soldiers perceive as treachery. 
Morrison has begun, Turnbull’s explanation to date is thin. For a man who had never won a poll against a Labor leader to use polling as a justification for removal of prime minister lacks substance. He has to show he is not the man he was five years ago. 
The Turnbull experiment will only work out if he knuckles down and gets the ministry right, the agenda right, and the internal politics right. 
The Senate cross-benchers are just as erratically dangerous as they were when Abbott was prime minster but government may suit Turnbull better than Opposition. 
If he thinks back to his ­experience in the Howard-Costello government he may recall that it was not ideological but it was pragmatic. The political capital is his to squander — or not — and the next election is his to lose — or not.

And there you have it.

The best the toadies can now say about the martyred St. Tony?

The most successful Opposition leader in Australian history...

Which is about as meaningless a form of gibberish as can be found doing the rounds, because the only meaningful criterion for an opposition leader is if he becomes PM ... and many opposition leaders have accomplished that task ...

It is a form of weasel words - toads aren't always the mortal enemies of weasels - to avoid the next assessment:

The most unsuccessful PM in recent Australian history, and perhaps for all time ... and considering that includes former Chairman Rudd, Harold Holt and Billy McMahon in living memory, that's saying something ...

Never mind. As seems to be the form these days, the pond must apologise for splashing yet more of that pungent scent around the room:

Come on memesters, there must be one for Akker Dakker too ... what about him piloting a black helicopter?