In which the pond must do a culling, but that means there are winners as well as the usual tosser losers ...

 

 

The pond has had to revert to its hunger games to winnow out the many Monday reptile contenders for attention.

Alas and alack, first to go was the reformed, recovering feminist, doing a standard lizard Oz hatchet job. This is bread and butter for the reptiles, but the pond has become accustomed to a more elevated level of reptile loonacy. 

Similarly, the Caterist didn't make the cut, with a sub-standard attempt to imitate Killer Creighton. The pond understands that the reptiles yearn to be in the current situation of the UK, Europe and the US in relation to the virus, but frankly the pond would rather stand in a quarry in the middle of a flood - just to work out the movement of the water - than piss on the Caterist to help him quell a bushfire in the season soon to be upon us ...

When the pond looked elsewhere, it knew it had its Monday winner ... the Major ... 

 

 

The Major was off to a flying start, by pointing out that Malware - he who admires himself so much - and former Chairman Rudd, were filthy rich. The Major hates the rich, as does the pond, and loathes the capitalist system which produces rich people, and apparently these days is only searching for that Order of Lenin medal so that he might wear it himself.

Above all the Major is blessed with a highly tuned paranoia, which doesn't see enemies everywhere... just the ABC and the Graudian and the greenies and the lefties, and all those who love the rich and the capitalism system, and pretty much anyone else who doesn't subscribe to the Major's world view. 

As the bromancer himself would put it, "nutty", what a rich, nutty mix of confused thinking, so please allow the pond to make some peanut sauce with the Major by crushing enemies ...

 

 

Excellent, have at them Major, and remember to berate the filthy rich and their filthy ways, including the filthy rich Donald, and his wretched failures ...

 

 

 

 

Utter tosh! Delightful, way better than cant or humbug or any of those other quaint expressions, such as pish-posh ...

The anguished pond, while marveling at the extensive range of mortal enemies the Major had aligned in the cosmos,  consulted a source to see if the Major had chosen wisely in his words ...

The choice is really up to you, mainly because both "pish-posh" and "pish-tosh" effectively come to the same thing -- saying something is rubbish.
To be honest, the two terms are quite outdated even to most people of my generation (the 50-somethings and older). I myself haven't heard them spoken in real life but have only seen them used in dated humorous writing (such as those by Stephen Potter, George Mikes, etc, from the 1950s, '40s and before).

 

Dated humorous writing! And the Major's preferred choice of 'utter tosh' is Nigel approved ...

 

 

 

Phew, the Major was a winner, no bollocks here, here no bollocks, as on we go, smiting and smoting at the assorted enemies. Please, remember to adopt a look of wild-eyed rage, as sometimes seen in Donald lovers...

 

Oh dear, a real Joe Friday effort by the Major. 'Just the facts, ma'am', though it's rumoured Joe actually never said those words, just as its rumoured that the Major is full of utter tosh, and speaks loads of bollocks.

Of course the reptiles are in favour of net zero, whatever that nonsense means. Why the dog botherer is a devoted and enthusiastic supporter of climate science, and believes he'll be around at the age of 90 to see Elysian fields, and so is the Bolter a climate science devotee, and so are all the Murdochians ...

It's just a pity that the Major filed a little late, or he would have found another enemy to smite ...

 

 

Oh dear, follow that link here and you cop this ...
 

 

 

Oh dear, another mortal enemy for the Major to rage about ... as he just loves coal and gas to death, as all expert reptile scientists do, and don't get him started on those dreadful renewables, and the green left media, who purport to hate a heating world, but who love the filthy rich and capitalism in a way that the Major never could ...

 

What an epic rant, a wonder for the ages, full of seething resentment and hostility, and barking mad too, and as full of denialism about News Corp as News Corp rags and columnists are full of climate science denialism ...

Is it any wonder that the pond gave the nod to the Major?

As for The Insiders, the pond only watches it for the cartoons, as men only used to read Playboy for the articles, and yesterday the infallible Pope turned up, always a pleasure to see, given how many infallible Popes the pond celebrated in its time ...

 

 There's always a funny photo, and an infallible Rowe and a Pope to dissect, and other cartoons ...

But what about a silver Order of Lenin medal? Surely the pond can find it in its heart for an also ran, a loser, a wannabe, a dropkick try hard, still yearning to be a winner, and doing his best, in the sacred memory of his best mate, the onion muncher ...

Well, the pond will always have a special place in its heart for the bromancer ...

 

 

 

 

 

How could the pond resist acknowledging the bromancer's achievement, silver though it was? After all, beginning with a shot of fatuous fools giving boosterism a bad name promised much fun ...

 

 

 

 

 

Flim-flam! Almost as good as utter tosh. And elephants in the room, and nothing to write home about, and a joke about agricultural exports to Myanmar, and so on and so forth, and the bromancer was just beginning to wind up ...

 

 

 

Now at this point the reader must be reminded where the bromancer started ... with that photo of those shameless flim-flam men, those hucksters, those sellers of aluminium sidings, those peddlers of Trucoat ...

 

 

 

... and the pond must do so because it must pre-empt a line from the bromancer, who suddenly realised what he'd been scribbling so furiously, which needed a sudden, swift tugging on the handbrake to produce a 180 degree doughnut ...

"None of this is remotely a criticism of the Morrison government."

 

Yes, dear devotees of reptile reading, the bromancer suddenly realised where he'd been heading, and talk about the need to turn a belly flop into a pike ...

 

 

 

The pond is still rolling that around on the tip of its tongue, before moving it to the back palate for some more savouring, as if - breaking its no drink rule - to have a sip with Goldfinger and James Bond of a Château Mouton Rothschild 1947 or Piesporter Goldtropfchen 1953, or a Bromancer 2020 ...

See how the bromancer dances ... such style and elegance, such a pirouette ...

"None of this is remotely a criticism of the Morrison government."

"RCEP is useful in some ways, but really pretty marginal."

Oh sure they might be flim-flam men, speaking utter tosh and bollocks, but what do you expect? Angels? Be content with the elephants in the room, and the bromancer showing how to do utter tosh and bollocks, or you could end up hacking away in the bunker of life ... as often happens with Rowe here ...