In which the pond allows in the dog botherer and the hole in the bucket man, but then abandons the usual reptile Monday stew for the Anglosphere ...

The pond confesses it got into a fierce argument over the weekend, when some worrywart liberal started anguishing over the re-election of the Donald. 

The pond's main anxiety was that the age of comedy would likely be dead. Who else in a single week could deliver Yo Semite and Thighland, or even better, loons standing at the breach, ready to defend the Donald in every way?

No, not just standing at the breach, but doubling down, for sublime comedy effect ...

The responses were even better - Twitter is an endless trap - but enough already.

As for the argument, the pond had to admit that even if the Donald departed, there would always be the lizards of Oz … or maybe not, when the Chairman departs and people begin to wonder about the need to preserve  a useless tree-killing machine …

In the meantime, however, we still had the dog botherer, and the whining, moaning, needy snowflake delivered a ripper this Monday ...

Yes, once again, the reptiles prove that the ABC seems to be their chief form of viewing pleasure, their only form of entertainment. In a world full of streaming options, and even Murdochian visual pleasures, the dog botherer only has eyes and ears for the cardigan wearers ...

Remarkable. What a gotcha. Of course it's possible to be cynical about all sorts of things while actually participating in them. The pond bets a penny to the pound that the dog botherer has a healthy streak of cynicism, as he sips on that glass of red and tries valiantly to lather up decent attacks of gout, diabetes and alcohol-inspired death in his old age, so that at last he might be able to moan and whine about nationalised medicine and how it's ruining his private health cover …

But on with the comedy, and what sadly has to be said, a little personal defensiveness seems to creep in from the snowflake known as the dog botherer ...

Such modesty. Surely the dog botherer should accept the strike rate, bask in the attention. If nothing else, it suggests that he is a loon nonpareil, a confection too delicious to resist, a gorging on sugar and starch more tempting than getting as pissed as a parrot ... 

But on with the comedy stylings, because who knew The Graudian was entirely the work of that deviant, conspiratorial Malware … why, he even hand-picked the staff, thereby explaining why First Dog skipped from Crikey (who knew Malware was a First Dog lover?)

The pond says it again, in complete and abject admiration: what a classic loon. No need to fear the demise of the Donald, so long as the dog botherer has a platform for his comedy stylings…

And the rest of this Malware loving cartoon is at the Graudian here …

What a stunning celebration of Malware's singular achievements, with the best yet to come ...

But what of the other reptiles this Monday? 

Well it seems things got into a bit of a mess. The valiant Major seemed to have retreated to who knows where, and our hole in the bucket man was wheeled in, to furrow his brow, and do Ancient Mariner exclamations of doom and damnation ...

Strangely our Henry seemed to need a companion to achieve this feat, when on closer examination, it was all but over in a nanosecond …

Foolishly, the pond had hoped this pair might get on to the casualisation of the work force, the shrinking of benefits, the socialising of benefits for the temporary, immediate privatised profit of the current gig economy, and the way that taxpayers, should there be any in the future - remember, taxes only feed useless governments and meaningless services, like roads - would have to pay to support all those indigent gig economy workers in their retirement, and they'd no doubt be living to a long age, what with all that exercise on their bicycles … but no ...

Well the pond felt it had done its duty by desiccated coconut for the day - sorry, we're out of cinnamon - but it was such a short offering that the pond looked around for a bonus.

Immediately the Caterist was ruled out, because this day the expert in the movement of quarry waters produced another rant about comrade Dan, and the pond was over it ...

Will the reptiles ever get over their obsession with comrade Dan? Probably not ...

Similarly the pond was over simplistic Simon doing his usual SloMo suck …

Is fellatio in public a seemly thing for a journalist? The pond doesn't mind much, it's always enjoyed onanism, and after all Jerry Falwell Jr himself has shown that there's nothing like clutching a comely young thing and sipping on black water to set a theological standard.

But the pond is always on the search for ideas, and the reptiles slipped in a story on the weekend, which sent the pond into ideas overdrive …

Yes, the Anglosphere, and by Andrew Roberts himself, a man who famously wrote back in 2003 ...For Churchill, apotheosis came in 1940; for Tony Blair, it will come when Iraq is successfully invaded and hundreds of weapons of mass destruction are unearthed from where they have been hidden by Saddam's henchmen. (or so his wiki says here).

It's true that the pond hesitated for a moment, what with the reptiles offering second-hand, shop-soiled goods ...

It's also positively ancient by pond standards, always feeling the pulse of the now, but heck, the pond is driven by ideas, and the notion of a desperate Pom trying to reinvent the empire had singular appeal ...

By golly, there was the dog botherer railing at the Graudian coming to Australian shores, and here we had Boris sitting down with SloMo, because clearly there wasn't enough domestic comedy being produced, and we needed more imports, and a closer relationship so that the British stench might fill the air …

(more deviant hand-picked-by-Malware offerings here).

There might be some preverts who wonder and think there's already a Commonwealth but of course it's full of wogs and differently coloured people incapable of speaking dinkum English, thanks to their braying lingoes. Why soon enough there'll be some loon talking of thighland and blaming it on the Indians …

What's genuinely inspiring is that this is the way that some of the befuddled Poms, Boris leading the delusional dreamer way, think they can get over Brexit …

Yes, yes, it's all so easy, just run up a few flags (never mind the Starbucks the reptiles left in the picture) and we're all united ...

Ah indeed, indeed, and who can forget the mighty way the British lion roared defiantly in Singapore … and has recently given the Chinese dragon a sound thrashing for their actions in Hong Kong.

But what of the United States? Well, there's a plan for that close-kissing cousin, and a return to the good old days of Churchill and the second world war ...

What a glorious vision. Dinkum Anglos uniting to defeat the filthy Hun, and the indolent Ities, but sad to say there's always a knocker to be found, a worm in the rose …

There's more here from back in 2018, but this will give an insight into the cruel thinking of these wicked deviants and heretics...

This wretched cynicism got worse by the end:

...For Australia and New Zealand, trade links with China and Asia are much more important than those with Britain. And Canada, as a member of Nafta, has long been oriented toward the massive American market. Security and intelligence cooperation among these states and Britain in the so-called Five Eyes group is critical, as is NATO membership, but this kind of cooperation does not require a new Anglosphere bloc.

In reality, the United States, Canada, Australia and New Zealand show no inclination to join Britain in new political and economic alliances. More likely, they would rather continue to work within the existing institutions — like the European Union and the World Trade Organization — and remain indifferent to, or just perplexed by, Britain’s calls for some kind of formalized Anglosphere alliance.

Some pomp and ceremony on this visit might improve relations between Mrs. May and Mr. Trump, which reportedly are not very warm. But it’s sensible to be skeptical that Mr. Trump will think that the Anglosphere is any kind of answer for the United States, just as it has never really been the answer in the past.

Despite this, and despite its practical shortcomings, the idea of the Anglosphere will probably endure.

The tragedy of the different national orientations that have emerged in British politics after empire — whether pro-European, Anglo-American, Anglospheric or some combination of these — is that none of them has yet been the compelling, coherent and popular answer to the country’s most important question: How should Britain find its way in the wider, modern world?

As long as that is still being asked, the Anglosphere will continue to be an answer for some of Britain’s political dreamers.

Oh dear, the May in maypole long gone, and the Donald even weirder, and delusional Boris sent into a flap at the sight of a Starmer …

And yet the dream is alive, in the pages of the WSJ and the lizard Oz, and that's why the pond rejoiced, because the pond could share in the dream … even if wondering it was a butterfly dreaming of the British, or the British were butterflies dreaming of racial purity and dinkum Anglos … 

But what do you know, it's not just the English speakers, but all sorts of odd bods that might be wangled into this Anglo galaxy, so that at the end the Anglosphere might resemble the Mos Eisley cantina in Star Wards ...

Was the pond wrong to give up on the caterwauling Caterist and the sucking Simon this day for such a splendid vision?

Who can say, but let none say that there is no delusion or dream or no hoper loon of the dog bothering kind who cannot find a home in its pages …

And now as a closer, let's do a channel hop not just of English speaking countries but of the world with the immortal Rowe, with more hopping here … and who knows, you might land on an Anglo channel if you try hard enough to find the most incompetent responses in the world ...