We are all Englishmen here, even the women are Englishmen ...

Surely this must be something of a first for the Terrorists when it comes to premium articles and features, but who is the author of this premium article which requires payment for unrestricted access? Oh wait, here it is...

James Crafti? That name jiggled and joggled a pond memory ... was the credit a clue?

Writer? Community activist?

Nope, that's not how the pond remembers Crafti.

But it seems that it's the way the Terrorists care to describe Crafti?

So who is this crafty figure trolling away with click bait for the Terrorists?

Well you can Twitter him here, and catch up on his riotous behaviour, and a link to his latest article for Red Flag, and so on.

The pond finds it terribly hard to keep up with Crafti's latest group. So many Pythonish splitters, comrades, so little time.

Inter alia his name has been associated with Socialist Alternative, Socialist Alliance, and such like, while back in 2008 good old slackbastard records his expulsion from Resistance ...

So that's what happens when the Terror wants to get some click bait trolling going, and the comrades show how the revolution will proceed ... by scribbling for the Chairman and enhancing his paywall coffers. Vive la Murdochian revolution, comrades.

The pond almost forgot to mention Crafti's work in relation to Max Brenner, if only so it could faithfully note the diligent work of the chief stenographer ...

And they say a sponsored trip to Israel for journalists doesn't keep on producing results on the propaganda front!

Well if Godwin's Law means nothing these days, and Stalin trips off the tongue, it seems perfectly reasonable to call Beattie a fuckwit and to wonder and marvel at the way the Terrorists might publish a trolling comrade, and not be held to account by the diligent stenographer ...

Never mind, please allow the pond to indulge in another choccie indulgence before heading off to the main course ...

You see the Bolter recently came out with this ...

You'd swear, reading the Bolter, that everything's hunky dory in Bangladesh.

But the pond, being a blogger, has certain memories imprinted on the brain.

Amongst the many reasons the pond dislikes the regime running Saudi Arabia are stories such as Saudi blogger Raif Badawi may receive second set of lashes on Friday.

A thousand fucking lashes for blogging? And the pond has on more than one occasion, offered a certain contempt for Islam as a delusional religion, worthy company for other delusional beliefs.

That sets up the pond for a thousand lashes, but it turns out that's nothing. It's hard to imagine, but it could be worse ...

Slashed to death by machete for blogging in a secularist way? Fuck that for a Bolterish joke.

That story's here,  and it's now the pond's fervent hope that the Bolter hies himself off to Bangladesh and announces that he's a blogger who has difficulty accepting the Islamic religion ...

Let's hope he seeks protection from the police, or perhaps even the elected government ... and let's hope he's taken really good self-defence classes. Or maybe not. There could be an elegant kind of poetic justice close at hand ...

But enough of mere matters of life and death, because as always, the pond has a special treat, and it's truly a marvel from the ever reliable bromancer, recanting and re-shaping himself as a new British flag-waving Colonel Blimp down under ...

Now the pond is sometimes inclined to editorialise and comment on its offerings, but we are all Englishmen here, even the women are Englishmen, and for once little comment is needed.

The bromancer is such an adept and able spokesperson for himself and for the future King Chuck that the pond can safely reproduce his deepest thoughts without much need for commentary ...

Oh okay, it is worth noting the way that the bromancer slips in the notion of the "ruling class" as if that perfectly describes and evokes John Howard ...

And is there anything more tedious - the pond had to stifle a yawn - to hear yet another tale of youthful idealism gone off the rails? Further evidence that the weirdest comrades can end up scribbling for Chairman Murdoch and that atheists make the best members of Opus Dei, and that grovelling Irish twits are always the finest supporters of the lords of England ...

The pond also had to stifle a yawn at the bizarre news that the bromancer was motivated by the notion that an Australian republic should please the people of Asia, only to discover that no one in Asia could care less about our constitutional arrangements?

Because Australia exists only in the minds of Asians ... and if we want King Chuck, why would they care?

Yes, it's that old riff about dreaming of butterflies, but this time Australia only exists in an Asian dreaming.

Every so often reading the bromancer, the pond is reminded how deeply confused he is - a thugby leaguer would say fucked in the head, before pissing on Dame Slap's couch, because that's what larrikin mates do ...

Yes, the pond started with high hopes, but is finding reading the bromancer a bit of a struggle, and drifted off to yesterday's column, but we must press on, as he does what all Stalinists and republicans must do at their show trial ... recant and redeem, so that they can embrace the vision of King Chuck...

Indeed, indeed. How the pond loved that line "I believe we have not had a poor governor-general since World War II." 

At last someone has a good word for HRH The Prince Henry William Frederick Albert, Duke of Gloucester, and the splendid the Right Hon. William Philip Sidney, 1st Viscount De L'Isle, and the most excellent the Right Hon Sir John Robert Kerr, and even the strangely shortened reign of the Right Rev and Hon Peter John Hollingworth.

Others will prefer the mention of India, which actually happens to have a Republic Day ...

But surely all will join together in celebrating British institutions and being British. We are all Englishmen here, even the women are Englishmen when it comes to the crunch ...

There's a breathless hush at the reptile Oz to-night - 
Ten to make and the match to win - 
A bumping Stalinist pitch and a blinding leftist light, 
An hour to play and the last man in. 
And it's not for the sake of a ribboned coat, 
Or a gong from the Queen in January,
Or the selfish hope of a season's fame, 
But his Captain's hand on his shoulder smote 
"Play up! play up! and play the game!" 
The sand of the desert is sodden red, - 
Red with the wreck of a square that broke; -
The Gatling's jammed and the colonel dead, 
Killed by that fiendish anarcho-syndicalist red
And the regiment, blinded by lefty dust and smoke. 
The river of death has brimmed his banks, 
And England's far, and Honour a name, 
But the voice of schoolboy rallies the ranks,
Come, come, you dinkum cobbers of England down under, 
"Play up! play up! and play the game!"

Yes, even if it's unwise to play in New Zealand, the pond is British to the bootstraps or high heels, depending on your preference ...

And if anyone wonders why there's the odd reference to fiendish, vicious lefties in that travesty of a fine and noble British poem, luckily the bromancer is on hand to explain ...

Because, you see, thinking that Australia might stand on its own two feet, and be Australian, actually reveals a deep hatred of Australian culture and civilisation.

The only way forward for Australia is to kow tow and lick spittle towards the magnificent King Chuck when he ascends the throne, followed by all the spawn who will line up behind him as his honourable hairs ... though the hairs are receding a little, so it won't be long before the new hairs will sit on the throne, hopefully leaving the Nazi uniforms in the closet ...

As for Tony Abbott, how splendidly he did with his love of the monarchy. Why he was celebrated far and wide, and by no lesser a writer than the bromancer himself ...

Yes, yes, the pond recalls that the bromancer went on to explain that it was all Queen Lizzie's fault, and that she'd wanted it for Phil the Greek and what was a devout monarchist like Tony to do but accede to her wishes ...

There's British loyalty for you. When it gets down and dirty, blame the dear old Queen.

The whole farce is worth remembering when the bromancer gets on to the subject of the royals and his one true wall-punching love and how he's going to return with a 60% popularity rating ...

Where do the reptiles dig up these wankers? Oh wait, the Terrorists and the Bolter show how it's done.

But enough of the bromancer. Anyone who's made it this far surely deserves a cartoon from the infallible Pope, and more infallible papal cartoons here ...

Oh yes, we are all Englishmen here, even the women are Englishmen, and how grand are the hulks of London made resplendent once again in the gulags of Australia ... how we love our British traditions, how we treasure the finest in British civilisation. Thugby leaguers may now piss on the couch ...