In which the pond enjoys a splendid reptile fight, ring the bell for round one ...

It's the ugliest of sports, worse than boxing, wrestling, MMA, even the sumo that the pond spotted being live streamed from Japan, wherein monotony, tedium and endless salt tossing jostles with wonder at how soon the participants will die of illnesses associated with obesity ...

But the pond has no sense of shame and will always gawk at a reptile fight ...

Bring it on. Let the gawking begin.

It started this day innocently enough with the digital splash ...

A diverse cast of outrage merchants?

Of course the reptiles think they're mocking the likes of Penthouse ...

But wait. Max is the father of the Terror's Sharri, and speaking of an outrage merchant, is there any better than the Bolter, who has been fawning all over Milo as his Penthouse pet of the month (putting him in the same bed as the Terror's Mark Latham, and there's an unnatural, unholy triangle for you worthy of a splash in Penthouse and sure to send sales soaring).

The Bolter has been routinely outraged, while fawning and bowing and scraping and sucking up his Milo, in the last few days ...

In a way typical of the Bolter of late he goes over the same ground obsessively, compulsively, as in his agitation about Senator Hume ...

By golly he loves his Milo and sips a little for strength each day...

  

Let's face it, assorted reptiles are up to their necks in love of Milo, whether outraged HUNsters or Terrorists ... did the lizards of Oz not know this when they began their talk of outrage merchants?

But here's where it gets ugly.

Just below the lizard Oz digital splash came this ...

Fair suck of the saveloy or the sauce bottle?!

The pond was reminded of the time it was prac teaching at Tamworth High, and surrounded by a jostling horde of testosterone-laden rustics chanting "fight, fight, fight", as they rushed to urge on a couple of their kind to bung it on ... while all the real teachers stayed safely in the staff room talking of important school and educational matters, most likely which pub to go to ...

Never mind, the pond has tried to build up the sense of occasion as much as possible, because damned if the pond is going to pay attention to a dropkick loser who managed to lose a book contract and amazingly even managed to get sacked from Breitbart for being a foolish fop and who right now is in the middle of his black sheep colonial tour ... so that the likes of the Bolter and the arm breaker can suck deep on their Milo ...

Step into the ring Shanners ...

What can the pond add to this? Such is the intense, almost psychopathic fear and loathing the Bolter has for Malware, of course he was going to be duped by the dope from the deep north ... the gutless wonder  carrying cold feet gut ...

Here, have another sip for what ails ya ...

One thing is guaranteed by this Shanners piece ...

The precious Bolter flower will wilt, sulk and strike back ...

As the pond types, it's too early for the fragile snowflake to get going, and in any case, it doesn't really matter. The pond can channel his response: "ya, ya, sucks boo, ya drink your bathwater", or other ripper Tamworthian riposte ...

What the fuck?!

Quoting the onion muncher to strike at the heart of the Bolter? Oh that's cheap, that's like heading into the nether regions in a wrestling match ...

Spare the groin, no low blows!

It even makes Shanners' suggestion that the Bolter is febrile - all in a feverish fever - seem quite mild ...

It goes without saying that the Bolter is a destabiliser, a wrecker, a sniper, an underminer, a white anter, a ruiner ... he works for the Chairman!

As a result, the pond is ready to enthusiastically endorse Malware's stern stand against despicable furriners interfering in Australian politics ...

Can you imagine then the pond's profound distress to learn that the learned Pope has already ruled out one of the worst of the furriners? (More papal pleasures here).