In which the pond turns away from the destabilising reptiles to celebrate the major Mitchell's most excellent plumage and insights ...

Silly old Ross Fitzgerald recently penned a piece for Fairfax, The destabilisation of Malcolm Turnbull is starting,  at the end of which (spoiler alert) he bravely predicted You read it here first: by the middle of next year the destabilisation of Turnbull will start and will be orchestrated by someone who not only desperately wants to be PM but who already has form as a leaker. Now who could that be? 

Newsflash for the good prof.

Middle of next year?

Take a look at the reptiles of Oz beavering away diligently this day at the top of the digital page, with the floundering, flailing Malware featured as a dropkick poll loser, and just below him the marvellous, magical onion-munching statesman urging a forward-looking, comprehensive free trade in knighthoods with Britain.

Oh it's all the fun of a free trade fair ...

More Wilcox here, and so to a confession ...

Being a slow learner, the pond has taken a long time to discover that some wretched souls don't hold the major Mitchell and his wonderful plumage in the same high regard as the pond - and it goes without saying, the major Mitchell himself - does ...

But look, lo and behold. The pond has not the slightest interest in aerial ping pong or thuggee men with no necks bashing each other in thugby league, and yet the merest mention of these Roman gladiatorial contests by the major Mitchell sees the pond give space to them ... perhaps for the first time in the pond's existence ...

Of course that splash, in best Trumpian tone, sets the grand lie in action. 

The weekend's grand finals were, it turns out, not a fascinating look at the development of modern national football codes, but instead, a fascinating, fascinated, nay deeply and devoutly entranced, look at just how tremendous and how wonderful News Corp is ... yes, it's bait and switch time ...

Oh what a fine and handsome bird, please let us examine the feather display in detail ...

Now the pond promised that the major Mitchell would display some great "watch cocky dance" moments and from the get go he delivers.

Who else would start off a sentence empowering the grand finals to take a fascinating look?

The weekend’s AFL and NRL grand finals were a fascinating look at the development of modern national football codes and the effect of interstate expansion versus traditional suburban loyalties on newspaper sales.

Not for the major Mitchell to use conventional, banal, politically correct grammar along the lines of The weekend's AFL and NRL grand finals provided a chance for me to make fascinating major Mitchell observations about the wondrous glories of the tabloid News Corp empire ...

Of course those with a broader perspective will observe the tragedy of a sad old parrot, still stuck back in the 1950s... with talk of pictorials, wraparounds, and tree killing on a grand scale, and delivered to the customer with the most advanced technology available ...

Surely around this point any decent stray reader with a generous spirit and a considerate nature would share the pond's rapture with that marvellous old bird?

Now the pond acknowledges that on a grand scale, this might just read like sordid self-promotion and an unhealthy obsession with the navel and fluff-gathering, but right at the very end, the major Mitchell pulls out a ripper sentence ...

 "We don’t need to get our hands dirty barracking for one team or the other,” said the well-respected Mason.

Of course not, no reason to get hands dirty barracking for News Corp when you have a major Mitchell to do it for you, but what pleased the pond was that last flourish "said the well-respected Mason."

Consult any ancient style guide, and that encapsulated encomium is quintessential old school ...

Pedants might ask who does the well-respecting, without realising that it's enough for it to have been written by the well-respected major Mitchell ...

Back in Tamworth in the old days, you'd find many a well-respected banker, and not all of them were caught philandering in a hotel room.

Now after this sort of epic hagiographical pandering, the pond would usually ritually award yet another Order of Lenin medal - the major Mitchell just loves the additions to his plumage - but this time the pond thought it might be better to suggest other industries that football has assisted on two grand days a year, and so might form the basis for future fine major Mitchell coverage ...

And if these fail to appeal, there's always the white-anting and the undermining, and, as always, more Rowe here ...