In which the pond does a mega-Donald edition, thanks to nattering Ned, the bromancer, an interloping Dame Slap and a Murdochian from the east coast ...

The pond makes no apology for an epic splash this day, as the Oz reptiles wrestle with the Donald's alligators, already busy stocking the swamp ...

After all, in the spirit of doddering Donners, the pond has offered everyone a chance to wag school, or spend free study time picking the wings off flies, or nod off to sleep while dreaming of other joys ... and who knows, later this day, there might be another Donners delight waiting ...

But enough of movie references, because nattering Ned is sure to produce a bout of ennui, or at least anxious hand-wringing ...

Oh dear, was it only a few days ago that Dame Slap was in a state of exultant, triumphalist. Trumpist ecstasy? Did Dame Slap not consign nattering Ned to dreary old fogie status?

She did, she did! Populism rulz, and nattering Ned is in the bubble!

Now it's Ned's turn to excoriate Dame Slap ...

The pond loves it when the reptiles fight amongst themselves.

Why right this minute, the pond understands that Dame Slap is composing an advice column "How to Talk Trump With Your Terrified Nattering Ned at the Lizard Oz"...

But wait, there's much, much more. You see, the bromancer has been very busy pouring oil on troubled waters and rushing around assuring everybody that everything will be well, perhaps because Rush said so, and so did Dame Slap ...

Here's one example ...

Don't panic?

As soon as someone tells the pond not to panic, the pond immediately goes into panic mode.

Saying don't panic is a sure sign there's something to panic about. It's as if the bromancer had shouted there's going to be a fire in the theatre, but don't panic, I've only got out the firestarter, the accelerant, a heap of oily rags, and the matches so far ... (oh okay, maybe the fire in the theatre routine is a tad overdone).

Let's see if we should panic ...

Tillerson's confirmed and then we panic? Lordy lordy, where's that Chicken Little costume, the pond can feel the sky falling in ...

And there was the bromancer again, front and centre, reassuring us everything was for the best in the best of TPP free worlds ...

Get real? 

Actually the pond doesn't feel so bad about the TPP.

For the sake of some agricultural gains, the terms sold off the rest of the farm to corporate America, big pharma, and the like, with intellectual property a particular bugbear for the pond. It was all designed to benefit the United States, bring Mexico to heel, open up Japan, Vietnam and so on for the Yanks, and the fact that the Donald and his team were too dumb to recognise this helps explain how he presided over six bankruptcies ...

Uh huh. Of course it's all Obama's fault.

Absolutely no way the Donald would have turned up and talked about tearing apart a ratified TPP. Just look at the calm way he's accepted that there's no point revisiting NAFTA...

Hmm, there's no way of showing heavy irony or childish sarcasm, is there?

Part of the rules of those roads were hit the US highway or get lost and head off on the by-way ... the notion that China is somehow more unscrupulous than an American studio head, or a Rupert Murdoch, is one of the greater laughs of the day ...

Rex Tillerson and Vlad the impaler, and Chinese behaviour's a problem?

Still, the pond should play along with the sackcloth and ashes, the keening and the wailing ... there's so much suffering around these days ...

Oh dear, how did Dame Slap slip back into the discussion?

That's right, we're talking serious issues - the ability to throw away 5k frocks - and the pond is maintaining the rage and joining the quiet boycott of Tom Ford ...

There's absolutely no way the pond will watch Nocturnal Animals. Correction - there's no way the pond will pay to watch Nocturnal Animals, and look, you can get a spoiler alert review at the Graudian here ...

But now we must finish off the grieving bromancer, still sobbing and sighing in best mock Turtle style ...

And now, because the pond warned that it was an epic, there's another bit of Donaldmania at the Oz this day ...

Of course the pond is mainly interested in this one because it's a test of how long the WSJ leftovers can be kept in the reptile Oz fridge before they're dragged out and reheated in the magic science oven ...

Okay, that one's only a couple of days old, no need to brush off the mould before reheating, and serving, and while they're at it, charging a handsome penny for the feast ...

Coal mining? Breaking a union? The last deep-pit mine closed in 2015, coal mining employment is a blip on the radar and so is annual UK coal production (Greg Hunt the blips here)... that worked out well, in a very British way ...

That's what happens when stupid ideological leaders wage stupid ideological wars which are then swept away by the changing tides of history ... and so to the decimated areas striking back by blaming Europe and doing a Brexit ...

And now the Donald wants to bring back coal-mining and the Newt blathers about Margie? Talk of stupid people with the forward vision of gnats, as if climate science is just like creationists talking of a young earth, and evolution and complimentary women ...

Oh it's all the fun in the fair, and here's the thing ... the Murdochians, the Fox Noise folk, the WSJ loons who are up themselves have helped bring all this on themselves, as well as the United States and the world ... and are left to wonder at how it's all going to go down ...

Incredibly tumultuous? And already he's hoping for eight rather than four years of tumult?

Carnage? We should get eight years of carnage ... or yellow liquid on the mattress of life?

Well anybody who made it through that epic pile of reptile pissing into the wind deserves a Rowe cartoon ... and as usual there's more Rowe here ...

And now, just to prove that two can play at the game of reheating old routines, here's another closer look at the Donald ...