In which the pond dallies with the Angelic one and watches as Dame Slap whacks a cracker up the clacker ...

Sorry, the pond is just doing a bait and switch. There's Lloydie this very day, still in a state of fear and loathing, while yesterday the dog botherer was out and about showing the same kind of deep anxiety about Greta.

The best thing to do with dickheads of the dog botherer kind is to ignore them, and the more that the dog botherer ranted about climate science denialism this week, the more the pond was cheered up by the thought that it now only visits the reptiles on the weekend, and through the week other carers look after them.

There's the Weekly Beast, for example, looking at the feral Bolter, the Pellists and the HUN, and checking out the Greta coverage here, charting the anger of middle-aged white men hurling insults, including, it goes without saying, "…the Australian's resident climate contrarians Chris Kenny and Graham Lloyd …"

Contrarians? That's a kindly temperate word for climate denialist wankers ...

It felt odd to see the dog botherer and Lloydie given names, but the Beast also celebrated the hoax photo, pulling off pundits like the parrot, and assorted other pleasures, it being a very rich week for reptile stupidities and follies.

But the pond didn't want to do the AWMAM ranting thing, and so went into the back passages of the lizard Oz commentary section, and came up with this assortment of offerings ...

Ah, an AWMAW ranting away, a little late to join the herd and swill the denialist kool aid, but all the same, the reptiles will probably drag her out on Sunday some time and make her a feature, because you can never have enough of a carryon about climate science denialism …

To help stray punters, the pond sampled the Angelic one's bio so that they could see that she had impeccable credentials in the scientific arena, and so wrote with impeccable reptile paranoia about transphobia, and the importance of a diligent approach to housework … surely all that was needed to become an expert in climate science ...

Of course the actual bumpf was just more of the same, of the dog botherer kind, rabbiting on about panics, fear and loathing, which meant no actual science had to be studied, referenced or included … just standard reptile condescension of a vitriolic kind ...

Ah, the old "far from being a normal teenager" slur, delivered with the usual grace by a barking mad Catholic fundamentalist, who presumably thinks belonging to Opus Dei should be the aim of "normal teenagers."

Happily, because the pond has little tolerance these days for reptiles, First Dog had a handy cartoon, available here in full, which was all that needed to be said about the Angelic one's opening ploy…

Well yes, but the Angelic one was just warming to her task, and began blathering about rational sense of proportion and rational discussion, and sneering at the poisonous cheese, while actually demonstrating not the first inkling or clue about any knowledge of climate science - and the pond dares say, history - herself ...

It's impossible to deal with this level of moronic self-congratulation, the conversion of science into a cult - by a Catholic cultist no less - and blather about neo-Marxist materialism without feeling the need to head out to the garden, and puke into the shrubbery … so the pond decided it needed more help from First Dog …

Well yes, but actually it's impossible to send up someone from the condescending school of Angelic one sneering, and the last gobbet was a ripper …

Here's the thing. If you lived through the Cuban missile crisis, you had quite a good understanding of the possibility of nuclear annihilation. And if you bothered to actually read any of the science and look at the observations of what's happening in the world, the melting, the permafrost fading, the acidification of the oceans proceeding, the assorted extinctions mounting, you might actually think that the world is facing a dangerously unstable future.

But if you read the lizard Oz, you're more likely to be one of Plato's dummies, looking at the shadows dance on the wall of the cave … with the Angelic one handing out popcorn to sooth your anxieties …

Never mind, if you believe in her fairy stories, the rapture is just around the corner, and she and her 'normal' brood will be swept up by an ecstatic Catholic vision of the world redeemed by the magic of wafers and altar wine, or some such thing ...

And so, because the pond always insists on a bonus for a meditative Sunday, it was time to look around for a second offering …

Through the week, the reptiles had done their usual moral panic about a fundamentalist bigot, with Dame Slap leading the charge, but with the meritorious Merritt chipping in …

 

Of course, it's rich and redolent in irony, what with the reptiles banging on about cults and science as a cult, and so on and so forth ...

But the pond, and apparently the world, or at least rugby league, is well over the Folau matter, and besides whenever the pond thinks of Dame Slap these days, it harks back to her previous fabulous efforts ...

Pardon the pond sniggering, but how's that been working out of late?

Never mind, it's way past time to fuck Britain in the same way as the MAGA-cap-donners have fucked the United States, and Dame Slap was on the case, even though others - such as dear 'hole in the bucket' Henry - had been at it too, with Henry out and about on Friday …

But dear 'hole in the bucket' Henry is far too genteel for the pond.

What's needed is talk of inserting a cracker up the clacker, just to show that brutalist barbarity isn't reserved for men ...

They don't have a body? Hmm, that'll make shoving a cracker up the clacker, in a nuanced, subtle and genteel way, a tad difficult.

Here, have a Rowson, it might help stray readers cope with the image of a feral Dame Slap trolling Freudians and roaming the street, with a cracker to hand, ready to shove it up someone's anus …

More Rowson here, but now it gets tiresome, because once more we get the 'leet Dame coming down from her ivory tower in her school above the faraway tree to deliver a standard rant about the people vs. the leets, because what could be more peeple-ish, than blathering about Prometheus? So it's on with feeding the trolls ….

There's no point in attempting to diluting this sort of prime, rich horseshit (though the pond contends that cowshit makes better plant food) …

Instead the spectral level of lies, distortions and outright nonsense - up there with the lies that Boris himself used to scribble from Europe, until he scribbled too many lies and got the sack - cries out for another Rowson spectre …

Not that the pond cares that much. The sooner that little Britain comes into being, the Scots get restless, the Irish get tricky, the stupid Poms think the Donald might help bail them out, and then in desperation they turn to the tattered remnants of the commonwealth, the better for all concerned.

Brexit isn't going to fix anything to do with unemployment, or northern stagnation, or help with trade with Britain's biggest trading partner, but all the toffs who are shorting the pound are going to make a motza … the likes of toffy Rees-Mogg are going to be laughing all the way to the bank.

Rees-Mogg’s hedge fund, Somerset Capital Management, is managed via subsidiaries in the tax havens of the Cayman Islands and Singapore. He has defended the use of such tax havens, saying “I do not believe people have any obligation to pay more tax than the law requires.” And the laws that look set to stand in the way are planned new EU regulations aimed at governing the behaviour of companies such as his own. Sign up to our Brexit weekly briefing Read more He has also enthused about the potential to slash environmental and safety laws after Britain leaves the EU. Regulations that were “good enough for India” could be good enough for Britain, he has argued. To back up this worldview is a network of self-styled thinktanks, with opaque funding sources and a passionate commitment to classical liberal economics. Leading the charge has been the Institute of Economic Affairs (IEA), with which Rees-Mogg is associated. Its roots lie in attempts to oppose the Attlee-Bevan move to the left after the second world war that brought us the NHS and the welfare state. The IEA’s mission is to promote small government and freedom for so-called “wealth creators”. Or to put it more accurately, ultra-rich individuals and corporations. The IEA saw Brexit as an enormous opportunity: a once-in-a-generation chance to create a more flexible, open and vibrant economy with less bureaucracy and protectionism, for which read signing up for trade deals that lower environmental and consumer standards. (here)

That's the trouble with clueless sheep, waiting to be shorn, and so it's back to a little more herding by Dame Slap, sounding high-minded though actually spouting pure self-serving bunkum ...

For some reason, that last rich bout of blather reminded the pond of how Dame Slap, down from her planet, thought she was at one with the deplorables …remind the pond how that movie is playing out at a theatre near you?

But back to the task of fucking up, and fucking over Britain, which Dame Slap could manage just as easily as her tireless efforts for the United States … though sadly this is the last gobbet for the moment ...

All that talk of shoving a cracker up the bum and watching it explode made the pond go a little Freudian for the moment …

...but then the pond realised it was part of a Great Australian Tradition of taking pleasure in cruelty ...

Nearly a dozen other dogs came from round all the corners and under the buildings—spidery, thievish, cold-blooded kangaroo-dogs, mongrel sheep- and cattle-dogs, vicious black and yellow dogs—that slip after you in the dark, nip your heels, and vanish without explaining—and yapping, yelping small fry. They kept at a respectable distance round the nasty yellow dog, for it was dangerous to go near him when he thought he had found something which might be good for a dog to eat. He sniffed at the cartridge twice, and was just taking a third cautious sniff when—— It was very good blasting powder—a new brand that Dave had recently got up from Sydney; and the cartridge had been excellently well made. Andy was very patient and painstaking in all he did, and nearly as handy as the average sailor with needles, twine, canvas, and rope. Bushmen say that that kitchen jumped off its piles and on again. When the smoke and dust cleared away, the remains of the nasty yellow dog were lying against the paling fence of the yard looking as if he had been kicked into a fire by a horse and afterwards rolled in the dust under a barrow, and finally thrown against the fence from a distance…

Yes, there's nothing like an explosion observed from a safe distance, with guts and blood and flesh and bones flung about like an unspooling John Wick movie, for genuine entertainment …

Roll on Brexit, and what fun to see the country explode ...

But, on reflection, captivating though it might be, the pond prefers Dame Slap's other work, which has produced splendid entertainment, perhaps involving bears, or the digging of holes …