In which the pond must finally attempt to deal with the new Blogger format - lousy - and dear Henry - wonderful as always ...

The pond noticed that the left-leaning progressive comrade Boris government has of late introduced a curfew in parts of the UK, in a futile bid to interrupt the flow of the virus. 

When will these big brother Orwellian governments end their Trotskyite, Stalinist ways? What's needed here is an icepick, one way or another … so that progressive attempts to end the freedom to die can be brought to a quick and necessary conclusion … 

These intrusions on the rights of people to die are outrageous signs of a government out of control, and roughly equivalent to the intrusions of freedom seen during the worst excesses of communism, fascism, and Uncle Scrooge-ism. 

Hah, and they said the pond couldn't speak fluent reptile! Or that British Tories were incapable of joining comrade Dan in their long march through the institutions. Graudian away here. 

But having learnt reptile speak, where are the reptiles to converse with? 

 Oh happy pond, oh joyous pond, today is Henry 'hole in the bucket' Ergas day, by reptile decree, and he lathers up a beauty, so rich and redolent with classical references that the pond was reminded of its futile attempts to learn French ...

 
The reptiles knew it too, and lo, see how they gave our Henry pride of place in today's digital edition ...

 

 

And that headline from SloMo, a reptile EXCLUSIVE ... led the pond immediately to its first bit of entertainment for the day, thanks to the immortal Rowe, with more here ...

 

 

 

And so to our Henry, and foolish pond, with its thoughts that it could speak reptile by learning a few French words, when arcane ancient Greek, or perhaps a little Latin, was all the go ...

 

A plague of Creons! And here the pond had been stuck back in the dark ages with Orwellian big brothers and the long march through the institutions and Monsieur Dubois and l'arbre and la vache. Would the pond never master the art of fluent reptile?

 

Such consummate wankery. The pond almost entirely forgot about Boris and the curfew and the Donald's valiant attempts with the virus ...

 

 

 

 

Hey nonny no, on we go ...

 

The pond hasn't the foggiest how this fits in with the reptile business plan. A musty old fogey pacing about at the front of the class, perhaps with leather patches on elbow, certainly a studious frown, but it suited the pond well enough ...

 

 

 

 

What's more, the reptiles had arranged so many interruptions to our Henry - video distractions and the like - that when they were judiciously pruned out, our Henry shrank in size and became incredibly handy as a form of spacing for cartoons ...

 

 

 

Sure, the cartoons might have little to do with ancient Greek tragedies, but why worry about niceties?

 

 

 

Instead just enjoy the natural rhythms. A cartoon, a little of Henry's rant, a cartoon, more rant, until nature would end it all ...

 

 

 

Oh okay, perhaps the pond should allow the odd demonic photo to enter into the story. We've had that snap of the Medusa from the north, and now surely the sinister Gorgon from the south should be shown trying to wash his hands of his thought crimes ...oh, is there a Perseus in the house to deal with this cunning fiend, who somehow has transformed from one of those ancient sisters?

 More Creons! Or even worse, more Boris, more Donald, more reptile, more Henry ...

 

That said, it's just as well that our Henry was on hand, because look at the dross the reptiles served up this day ...

 

Killer Creighton, the meretricious Merritt, and so on and so forth, not least the parrot sniffing bums in his usual rugger bugger way, and so the pond came to do the unthinkable, something it had never done before, and likely would never do again ...

 

 

Surely not the deeply corrupt Swiss bank account man, the man so addled in his thinking, that he had turned full reptile, and didn't even know it, the man that thought he had traces of Labor in his system, but had turned so far into a Murdochian lickspittle fellow traveller that a crocodile might recognise him as a kissing cousin ...

But what of climate science, and so on and so forth?

 

 

 

 

Forget it, just enjoy the Swiss bank account, and indulge in a little idle onion muncher and Rowan Dean worship, so that the reptiles won't take fright as you walk amongst them, uttering soothing sounds about coal, and the Donald ...

 

He thinks he has a whole brain? Now there's a definition of insanity ... all the more so when a man born in 1949 suddenly begins to berate doddery near-octogenarians ... in his own doddery way ... here, have a cartoon ...

The pond is deeply apologetic about its thought experiment with Richo. It won't happen again, it would be better just to give the game away entirely ...

 

And so to the reptile bonus of the day ...

 

Say what?

 

Is this a reptile trick to get the pond started on Malware and the NBN, and all that crap? Every day the pond sees new signs in Newtown of streets being torn up, and desperate attempts to get digital shit into gear ...

 

As for that other project, the reptiles have always hated it, and having done the full Richo, the pond wouldn't dream of letting pure, sweet, clean, dinkum Oz coal go. 

 

Why, SloMo himself has declared coal completely useless and in urgent need of subsidy, as against all that solar and wind power,  no longer in need of subsidy, and who is the pond to argue ...

The pond gets it, though it wondered why this wretched mob were talking about batteries, when the infallible Pope had already illustrated the sublime SloMo dream ...

 

 

 

As for the rest, the pond hopes it might be of interest to pond types who might want to argue amongst themselves, or argue with engineers ...

 

Dear sweet long absent lord, the reptiles published this letter?

 

 

 

But what of Malware's dream, what of Malware's legacy? Why offer so many names, when just as we get to "there are far better alternatives", all around the pond could hear nothing, all around there was silence. 

 

What are these better alternatives? Why leave the pond, the reptiles and SloMo hanging? Are not gas and dear sweet dinkum coal - perhaps in need of a little cleansing - the only alternatives in the reptile world?

 

Never mind, the pond finally made it to the end. How it loathes the new Blogger format, how it despairs of every speaking dinkum reptile, how sad that all the pond can offer for balance are a few cartoons ... but that said, it's probably better than drinking bleach or swallowing our Henry and Richo in a single, undiluted gulp ...

 

And so to another reminder of Ozymandias ...