In which the pond admires reptile discretion, rolls out a Killer piece, and takes fright at the savvy Savva's revival of the onion muncher ...

 

 

 

Yesterday the pond was left in awe and admiration at the rigid self-discipline and unnerving control the reptiles showed when confronted by that ProPublica story about the filthy rich being filthy tax dodgers. Sure it was old news, everyone knew they'd been doing it for years, how else was Jeff going to be able to piss in a bottle in space as an inspiration to his employees, but still there were facts and figures ...

And yet ... and yet ... not a single mention of the chairman, just a question about who topped the charts ... and yet, and yet, elsewhere the chairman had been mentioned in despatches as a top notch player, up there with the best of them...

 

Come on reptiles, be proud, be out, be boastful. The chairman was named as a champion. Details, please!

And so to today's standard reptile fare, and these days, whenever the Killer is on the prowl, the pond pays attention ...

 

 

Ah that dreadful Kiwi wutch from across the dutch, that's sure to trigger Killer, almost as much as a Wolf might be triggered by a bear ...

 

 

Well the pond wouldn't call it super funny, but when it's Killer's soul mate, the pond will take its humour wherever it can find it ...

 

 

 

 

 

Of course, how silly of the pond, it goes without saying. 

 

The pond has long pondered the Freudian implications of masks for Killer, and still hasn't come up with a therapeutic answer ... but at least it's a relief to know that his soul mate, the Wolf at the door, once publicly shared his fears, at least when she was allowed to ...

 

Sadly, what with the Wolf being banned from the door, the pond has only second hand pleasures to report, but luckily Killer is coming to us first hand ...

 

 

Indeed, indeed, it's truly terrifying. Perhaps what Killer needs is some quiet relief, a space where he's not tormented ...

 

 

 

By now, it's apparent that the pond has not the slightest interest in Killer's actual content, but what a wonderful coat hanger it makes for stories of natural peace and calm ...

 

 

This is all very well, and it's good to stoke the fear, but why isn't Killer quoting his soul mate, the Wolf outside the door?

 

 

Never mind, this is the last of the Killer's uploads for the day ...

 

No, no, you can't fool the Killer, or perhaps even the children of the revolution ... but when will he have the courage to go full Wolf at the door?

And so to the pond's usual Thursday treat ... with the competition not in the running ...

 

The pond is pleased to acknowledge the noble ongoing hagiographic work of the bromancer, hailing the pragmatic PM as the war on China cranks up another notch, but had an unnerving sense of déjà vu. 

The pond was also pleased to note the lizard Oz editorialist resigning so that he or she might immediately enlist, and defend freedom, while all the pond could offer was a white feather donning blog. 

And then there was the venerable Sexton, turned royal watcher, which the pond deemed too weird, though perhaps it might be ideal preparation for a column in New Idea ...

No, it had to be the savvy Savva dissing SloMo, there was simply no viable or credible alternative ...

 

 

Now reading the savvy Savva is not without risks. Last week, the pond was unnerved when the mutton Dutton was held up by her as a viable alternative, and this week her desire to see SloMo done down has seen her take to the job of coaching Albo.

But the onion muncher as an example? Take a leaf out of his playbook?

 

Not to worry, let the savvy Savva take us on a journey ...

 

 

Oh fucketty fuck, just when the pond had managed to remove much of the unsightly scarring left from the onion muncher years ... with just a few cartoons for companionship ...

 

 

 Does the savvy Savva have the first clue about the torture she's proposing?

 

 

Look, the pond understands undiluted scorn for SloMo. The pond itself has troubles with loons speaking in tongues to imaginary friends. But the pond still remembers those bitter years in the wilderness, where nattering negativity and ludditism overwhelmed the country ...

 

 

The only people to survive were the cartoonists, who made out like infallible papal bandits ...

 

 

Dear sweet long absent lord, not the onion muncher ... dressed up in all his humanity and charming the savvy Savva ...

 

Look, the pond gets it, any cudgel in a storm, any Rhett at the door not giving a damn, any chance to damn SloMo, for his cruel, inhumane and frankly deeply un-Xian ways ...

 

Yes, yes, all that and more, but the onion muncher? 

Oh it's a bridge too far, almost as far a bridge as the mutton Dutton, but at least the pond will always have the infallible Pope ... this day bringing back to mind the noble efforts of the hagiographic bromancer with preps for the foreign tour and a big, reptile-approved, pragmatic drum to bang ...