In which tha pond gets down wit tha truckies n' Freedom Boy n' tha gangstas n' Bolter n' reptilez ...

(Above: and fresher, if not more better, or ABC truly unique, Wilcox here).

It's a lazy, soggy, humid Monday for the pond in Sydney town, with the tang of rum and lashes in the air, and as the polls roll along, what better way to waste the morning than to go into wonder mode...

What, for example, did the good citizens of Goldstein do to incur god's wrath?

She really has sent them a kind of cosmic punishment - and ppl need 2 know why She has sent Freedom Boi to fight 4 them!!

But whoz ass will drop a rhyme fo' Gangsta n' Shakspier? (Gizoogle it here dudes).

And then there was international news of a remarkable kind: Alex Jones: 'My Gut Tells Me' Antonin Scalia Was Murdered.

Talk to the hand? No, speak to the gut.

We really have so much to learn from American loonacy ...

Oh there's no doubt the locals try hard ...

It isn't fair? Henry's all out of houses and he wants his share? There's a little boy been waiting at the counter of the corner shop, waiting down there, waiting half the day, they never ever see him, or offer him a mortgage for his fifth property ...

Should have become a Sydney electrician Henry and then there'd be no hole in the bucket ...

And then there was the Cunneen matter, making an EXCLUSIVE guest appearance amongst the reptiles ...

And meanwhile the wheels were furiously spinning over at the Terrorists ...

Roger that, there's a Smokey with a Green Stamp  trailing the pond's Bulldog, because just like Ms Cunneen, each day the pond gets up and practises its CB slang trucking lingo, as any self respecting lawyer would do ...

Shiznit, tha pond aint just down wit tha gangstas, tha pond is on fire wit tha truckies.

And then there were the reliable Monday sightings, though alas and alack, still no Moorice ... why this monkish vow of silence? Has he been spiked? Must the reptiles now rely on the dog botherer for their turnover?

Forget the dog botherer. Troy wins that joust! The Monty Python black knight of tax reform has just struck again, and by the pond's count is down to a single limb ...

Meanwhile, speaking of Pythons, the reptiles are starting to look over their shoulders at the Grim Digital Reeaapeerrr:

And there were other old faithful on the stump this day, including one deprived of his Sunday telly  perch, and now routinely hitting a keening level of seething, carping resentment and bilious bile ...

If the Bolter hates one person more than difficult, pesky, bothersome, wayward blacks, it surely must be Malware ...

How far will the Bolter go in his fear and loathing?

Yep, he'll even recycle the filthy, vile media Left ...

And so on and on - in the inimitable loon Bolter way, the re-quoting went on interminably - you can google it if you like, the pond refuses to encourage the Bolter with links - but the Bolter blaming the destruction of Turnbull on the media left, when each day he rants at least once about the failure of Malware, and yearns for the wall-puncher, will be recognised by the Freudians in our midst as displacement ...

Frankly you could spend a lifetime putting the Bolter through Freudian analysis, but life being short, why not just move quickly on to the next loon?

You see, there's no shortage of loons, there's plenty to go around, and there should be no neurotic fear of a loon shortage any time soon, no matter if death takes off the occasional one, such as a Scalia ...

Which is why the pond was pleased to see gorgeous big George back in the ring and given a discreet run by the reptiles, because once the reptiles get fixated on something, they can never let it go until they drag it back into the billabong and perform a diversity death roll, with bonus rattle  ...

Shocking stuff, and there's little doubt that gorgeous George represents a huge split in the coalition fabric.

Luckily, the pond has come up with an ideal replacement program, in which the children are given a role-playing exercise in which they're encouraged to imagine how it would feel to be George Christensen.

And they say the pond doesn't care for children or their rich imaginations!

Of course there would be counsellors and psychiatrists to hand to deal with any minor unpleasantries, such as nausea of the stomach, and a relentless tilt towards the right of Genghis Khan that a few children might develop, but the pond would insist that the story must be followed to its hard-Cori-ish conclusion ...

Ah, the hideous gay agenda which shamelessly promotes the shocking gay ... and lesbian! ... lifestyle ... it being well known that lesbians are never gay ... or even cheerful.

Naturally the pond went off to check up on gorgeous Big George's twittering, him being such a fine witterer, and right at the top of the google page too ...

But that led to this ...

The pond had to pinch itself and rush off to the Wayback Machine to do a reality check and what a surge of relief that the wit and wisdom of George hasn't been lost ...

Oh sad and tragic times that it should seem to have come to this, but you can find it here, though bedecked with a hideous language that might explain that look on cartoon Big George's face.

Where was that valiant warrior the pond read about in Big George Not Bowed By Troll Threats?

Mr Christensen has travelled to a handful of Asian countries, even Palestine in the Middle East, and says he does not regret his shot at wingers who complained about the 2014 budget. He says he only wanted people to view the budget in perspective because "we have such a good life here". 
 "People live there in poverty, all sorts of diseases and problems," he says. 
 Will he cut back on his tweets? 
 "No way. It is powerful at getting the message through. You want reaction. It would be boring if you just say hi guys, how are you," Mr Christensen says.

Oh thank you Mackay Daily Mercury, thank you. He's even been to the middle east!

Now the pond knows it's certain to be only a short outage and that big George will soon be back to his wittering self.

The pond too abhors wingers, and has, as best it can understand the rules of thugby league, also got difficulties with forwards, full backs and fly halfs ...

Fly halfs? Well that's what the pond was told to write, but how George and flies ended up in the one sentence will have to remain a Tamworth cow pat mystery ...

And speaking of cow pats, the pond still hasn't got through all the splendid Rowes of recent times ... such as this one, and as always more here ...

And since we're also in Wilcox catch up mode ...

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way-- in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only. (and the rest here).

And still there are dissatisfied people who complain!