In which the pond goes on an epic tour of nowhere with the reptiles ...

 

 

 

 

The reptiles were in a right old lather this weekend, and the pond was swamped for choice.

There's a lot of stress at the lizard Oz, what with SloMo being a right royal dud, and the reptiles being required to shore up the foundations on almost an hourly basis, though it hasn't quite got so weird yet that they've done a Bernard over at Crikey and sounded keen for the mutton Dutton to ascend the throne, on the principle that if you want the trains to run on time, better an Adolf than a bumbling buffoon of the Benito kind ...

It wasn't just the top of the digital page that swamped the pond, look at the delicious truffles in the commentariat section below the fold ...

 

 

 

Talk about an uproar, and yet poor old prattling Polonius hadn't even made it on to the front page early on the Saturday ...

It might seem perverse of the pond, but it decided to start with a reptile EXCLUSIVE because the pond at the moment will drop everything to catch the latest Barners thought bubble ...

 

 

Barners was in peak socialist form ...

 

Ships? Poor old Gott would be rolling in his train grave, having just announced all the exciting opportunities for Barners ...

 

 

 

The good Gott went on and on in true Tim Fischer style, with more than the usual amount of gas to hand, but the pond couldn't afford to keep on with the past, it had to wrap up Barners quickly ...

 

 

Phew, he believes there might be something to climate science. That's a relief, but an even bigger relief is that there's a but billy goat butt attached, there being no point doing anything about it ...

And so to the reptile excitement of the day, best summed up by the dog botherer going slightly mad ...

 

 

 

Now the pond should preface the dog botherer and his excessively long rant with the note that the strangeness attracted the Weekly Beast, which irony of ironies was put together this week by former reptile Tory ...

 

There was a capper to that ...

Sky News later referred to it as a “fiery clash”, and a confrontation with the “nutty” professor. The premier, Steven Marshall called that “disrespectful”. “Personal abuse is never a good argument,” he told radio station FIVEAA.
Kenny, a native Adelaidean who has been broadcasting from SA for a fortnight, also butted heads with Marshall during and after the press conference.
“I went to shake his hand and he said ‘I’m not shaking hands with you. We’re in a global pandemic’,” Kenny said. It was, surely, nothing to do with his bombastic performance.

The nutty professor? The dog botherer is a full Xmas pack of mixed nuts, but it was good to see that Tory had fully forsaken her old reptile ways - such as apologising for the onion muncher's climate denialism - and taken to calling out the bombastic dog botherer ...

So it's on with the bombast, and a full load it is too, mixed with the usual generous doses of hysteria and paranoia...

 

Ah, another True North sighting. Those who follow the reptiles via the pond will be delighted ... and they won't need to ask how the data for the Delta strain might have been made comparatively a little wobbly in terms of impact by the roll out of vaccinations, at least in countries where they can get their shit together ...

 

 

Yep, the dog botherer has taken over the job of the Killer ... all because SloMo couldn't organise a chook raffle in a Baiada compound ... but this week he keeps banging on worse than a dunny door in a gale, more like nattering "Ned" given a keyboard for a good pounding ...

 

 

Dear sweet long absent lord, he really has gone a little stir crazy. Of course the pond can understand it. The pond still remembers the long years locked down in Adelaide, and going slightly mad, especially whenever spotting the aunts under the wisteria out Norwood way, and yet there's something sweet in seeing the doggie boy yearning to become an eastern stater again, anything being better than being locked down and forced to munch on crows ...

 

 

How long before the dog botherer goes full Bowral organic store owner? Sadly that's for another day, as we reach the last of the agitated gobbets ...

 

 

Yes only a ranting doggie boy provides a path out of paranoia, and if you believe that, why you probably want mutton Dutton to be running the show ...

And so to our Gracie, only because the pond's got to know. With the savvy Savva gone, how long will our Gracie last? Just look at this offering, completely against the spirit of the dog botherer ...

 

 

 

The pond has nothing to say about it, except to note that it's Faine in a minor key ...

 

Hasn't this sort of assault on our Gladys been declared unconstitutional? Didn't that Faine fellow send the reptiles into a frenzy? And yet here's our Gracie feigning to be balanced, while assaulting our Gladys ...

 

Heresy piled on heresy, and the pond has to again ask, how long can this sort of treason and treachery be tolerated? Shouldn't petulant Peta be required to do a Saturday gig in place of this sordid scribbling?

 

 

No one needs to hear any more claims about NSW being the gold standard in anything?! 

The pond prescribes a reading of the dog botherer on an hourly basis until our Gracie repents, sees the light, and returns to the path of salvation ...

And so to the pond's standard weekend torture test. 

Others might want to do an ultra marathon, or attempt a climb on Mount Everest, preferably with a dose of COVID coursing through the system, but the pond knows how to sort out the softies ... stick it to 'em with a dose of nattering "Ned" ...

It was particularly easy this weekend because "Ned" felt the need to speak twice ... and so first to the short version, which naturally is designed to pump up the SloMo volume ...

 

 

 

The pond notes that it made a considerable sacrifice going with "Ned". There was the bromancer and Dame Slap waiting in the wings, each determined to do their best for SloMo, but the pond is loyal, and tedium producing nirvana is its ultimate goal ...

 

 

Indeed, indeed, it's all the fault of the premiers and the doctors and whomever else you might have to hand, and yet, over at Crikey, poor old Bernard was in such despair, he was keen to see the elevation of the mutton Dutton ...

Never mind, when "Ned" is doing his lickspittle apologist forelock tugging duties, he does them beautifully ...

 

 

Oh sheesh, there's "Ned" apparently unaware that there's a treacherous Gracie in the ranks, a no good rat fink, intent on doing down our Gladys ...

Now let it not be said that the pond is without mercy ... because before tackling the next lengthy "Ned" challenge, here, have an infallible Pope as your guide to the journey ...

 

 

 

Now settle back for a genuine round the entire country road tour ...

 

 

 

The pond will keep comments to a minimum. The challenge is simply to make it to the end, and the pond wishes all those who are pedaling the very best, and hopefully only a few spectators stepping on to the road with a sign ...

Of course the pond could make cheap jokes ... you know, the way the pandemic tests our ability to revitalise our precious bodily fluids, but the pond has discovered in recent times if you crack this sort of joke to a vulgar youff, they don't have the first clue about Dr Strangelove ... and so we are doomed ...
 

 

 

Yep, he's still banging on about the IG report and evil state premiers and the glories of SloMo, and all the pond can offer to those tackling this stage is that, counting the opening splash, there are eight gobbets of "Ned" to swallow, or if you will, eight fits ... though it's likely a joke about the hunting of the snark being an agony in eight fits will also fall on ears made deaf by fluoride ...

 All the pond can promise is a treat at the end of the ride ...

 

Yes, anyone who has read "Ned" will have seen it all before, but that's the entire point ... it's not to understand anything, it's just to make it to the end, and through survival, develop an inner strength and belief, a sense of invincibility, perhaps even immortality, so that the full nature of the reptile delusion might be embraced ...

 

 

The question the pond sometimes asks itself is this. Does "Ned" think anyone is reading? Does "Ned" think anyone that's reading actually cares? Does "Ned" understand his only remaining purpose in life is to bore the shit out of pond readers intent on proving that they can wade their way through swamps of prose and stats and survive to the bitter end, in the forlorn hope that there will be a treat?

Fuck it, does even "Ned" believe that it's all going to trickle down? Probably not, but this is where a taste for blather gets you, quoting others into blather, until you're face to face with a torrent of blather rolling down the hill like an avalanche of mud ...

 

Uh huh, but right now SloMo is in charge, or more to the point, so not in charge that Bernard over at Crikey was keen to install the mutton Dutton, on the basis that fascism might at least provide an organising principle. Better a tough, cruel, inhumane, soul-less plod than an incompetent plodder speaking in tongues to an imaginary friend... so don't  start banging on about realism ... or even neo-realism or bicycle thieves ...

 

Well the pond is exhausted. The pond is incapable of dreaming of a better life. The pond has fronted the "Ned" challenge to lead a challenging life, and has failed... and yet, this surely has been a truly remarkable reptile outing, and the pond has responded to the challenge as best it could, though things are in no way better or even different, and the darkest omen the pond can see is even more nattering "Ned" doing a Chicken Little, ancient mariner routine until the end of time ... 

...and now all that's left for the sole surviving reader is a treat, thanks to the immortal Rowe, with more salving Rowe to be found here ... because after that sort of epic bike ride to nowhere to learn nothing much about anything, every bum will need a little salve ...