In which the bromancer is mentioned in despatches, the Killer turns pinko pervert radical, and the Groan delivers her usual groaning ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The pond is always delighted when its favourite reptile's unique talents and abilities are recognised, and so it came to pass on Media Watch last night ...

 

First the bromancer's powers of prognostication and prediction were celebrated, as above, and then his contributions to the sub debate acknowledged, as below ...

 

 

 

 

 

Molesworth? As any fule kno?

The pond is full of the totally infinite and completely unique insights* (*ABC24 licensed) of the bromancer, but the pond rarely has time to go back over old clippings. 

Besides the pond isn't that interested in trawling through the back catalogue for gotcha moments; the pond lives in the bromancer present, and so the pond naturally felt the need to put the bromancer top of the page this day ... 

It doesn't matter what he scribbles, he's sure to contradict himself at some point, sometimes within a piece, sometimes in a forgetful moment down the track, it's the bromancer way, a hurly burly, a hoo-ha, a kerfuffle of Walt Whitmanesque kerplunking ...

Oh indeed, jolly Joe and what's his name, pal from down under in a chin wag. Sure the bromancer isn't up to his usual astonishing form this morning, but what's the alternative?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yes, the reptiles have gone all in on Clive's "Freedumb, Freedumb" - strictly cash in the paw if you please - and the fabulist wedding party Mar-a-Lago greeter, with simpleton Sharri eager to transcribe every thought of the mango Mussolini ...

 

 

Explosive revelation? Explosive claim? Well that's one or two ways to describe the tall tales a natural born congenital liar ... but it marks the lizard Oz as truly going up the faraway tree to the land of loons ... so it's back with the disconsolate bromancer to celebrate the subs ...

Sheesh, still not happy? And the bromancer even spares a word for the perfidious French ...

 

Petulant Gallic foot-stamping? But the cheese eaters have got nothing on the bromancer when it comes to petulant foot-stamping ...

 

 

Yes, a tragedy, a farce, a national embarrassment, a disgrace, hang your heads in shame boys, hang your heads, and that is surely worth a celebratory cartoon ...

And so to equally shocking news, well worth a reptile celebration.

Killer Creighton has gone a deep pink. He's turned real socialist activist ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

The pond hadn't tagged Killer as an outraged socialist, offended by the sight of the rich ... after all, he works for the Chairman, who'll do anything for a quid ... but it turns out that he's as solidly anarchist radical as the Jura Books mob were ... once to be found in Parramatta Road, but now sadly closed ... (still if you want to supplement your Killer reading you can find them online here).

 

The Jura book mob would be delighted to know that the Killer has joined their ranks ... why if they ever get around to reopening they might even have a special shelf reserved for the thoughts of Komrade Killer ...

 

 

Now some might think this is just faux radicalism from the Killer, agitated as usual by the sight of uppity women out and about on the town and enjoying themselves, but the Killer himself is inclined to Gradgrindian sobriety which would make a Puritan reel away impressed ... and so it turns out are the supporters of the billionaire mango Mussolini, humbly reclusive in genteel poverty at Mar-a-Lago ... except when out and about telling tall explosive tales to simpleton Sharri ...

 

Ah yes, the Killer and the chairman, at one with their fierce "tax the rich" campaign ... champions of the poor and the downtrodden.

It brought a tear to the eye of the pond, though whether that was from too much laughing or too much crying the pond can't rightly recollect at the moment.

Of course it goes without saying that it's all the fault of being made to wear masks and risk injections when you might better imbibe horse paste and the Killer's horse shit ...

 

 

 

The pond looks forward to meeting Killer on the barricades ... and if you believe that, the pond will toss in the harbour bridge as well as putting a modest price on the Murdochian revolution the pond has got for sale in the Republican deal of the century ...

Thank the long absent lord, the wayward slack-arsed infallible Pope has finally returned and he's got a splendid offering, right in keeping with the recently radicalised Killer ...

 

 

 

Um, just one quibble? Isn't that amount a little modest? Shouldn't it be listed as an interim account, or an amount that's just a down payment? After all, as Michelle Grattan noted:

...Morrison’s planned nuclear-powered subs come without any estimated cost (except they’ll be more expensive than the French ones); or precise timetable (except they won’t be available for a couple of decades); or decision about which boat will be chosen (except it will be American or British), or firm indication of how much building will be done in Australia (except that it won’t be all of it and possibly only a modest amount).

Now that's how to do a deal, and the infallible Pope should draw up a revised total on the tape if he wants to retain his infallibility...

And so to a bonus, and the pond as usual scoured the reptile offerings below the fold ...

 

 

 

Simplistic Simon delivering a wake-up call to Scotty from marketing? Will wonders never cease. 

Fergo still in a tizz, when once he was gung ho for "freedumb"? Zoe haunted by the perfidious French, even as they fall into line?

Oh it was all top notch reptile reading, but the pond as usual settled for a gloomy walk in the rain with Dame Groan ... for some peculiar reason, the Groaner has a devoted following, a loyal band of true believers, and who is the pond to stand in their way?

 

 

 

There's nothing more bracing on a Tuesday morning than Dame Groan auditioning for a role in the pond's staging of the tale of the ancient mariner ... unhand me, grey-beard loon, eftsoons her hand dropt she, and held the pond with her glittering eye ...

 

 

Well that's the good news, but now the pond stood still and listened like a three years' child as the Groaner hath her will, the pond sat on a stone, it cannot chose but hear, and thus spake on that ancient Groaner, the bright-eyed mariner ...

 

 

 

What a relief. A bumper year for coal. Why that portends a tremendous future for the country and the planet, and who can quibble about a fall in iron ore prices, what with the war on China looming and the reptiles keen to avoid being tagged as the Pigiron Bobs of the moment ...

Still the ancient Groaner is gloomy, all the more so as her gloom might infect the election campaign. Why, if we're all rooned, then Scotty from marketing might also be rooned, and what then with the inability to speak in tongues to invisible friends? 

Strange that we should have squillions to piss against the wall on never-never subs, while Killer rails at the rich, and the Groaner groans about what might happen to the forthcoming rapture, and SloMo rising once again to sit on the throne next to the blessed Barners ...

 

 

Indeed, indeed, and what better way to refute Dame Groan's relentless groaning than to end on an uplifting "all's well" cartoon from Rowe, featuring the blessed Barners himself, and as always, with more uplifting Rowe here ...