How much blather about subs, a natural born liar, and the perfidious French can a reptile take? It turns out, enough to bore the socks off a lizard ...

 

 

 

Yes, the pond could have started with the Graudian and the derailing of the natural born liar, but it's the pond's duty to report on the reptiles, and oh how their week has been rattled and derailed, and now the derattling, and the wailing and yhr derailing continues full speed ahead this weekend ...

 

Where did it all go wrong, and can it be fixed? 

 

Well first we must forget about the planet - that's fucked, and anyway, it's simply too hard - but this is going to be a long and hard recovery, and perhaps boring the perfidious French to death will be the best solution ...

 

But first a little back story before we begin ...

 

Remember the bromancer back in the day?

 

 

 

 

 

Talk about doom and gloom and disaster, and yet in his typical manic depressive way - bipolar disorder if you will - the bromancer's feeling of hopelessness and extreme sadness has given way to a manic soaring into the beyond blue ...

 

The bromancer's hopes of a war with China by Xmas had been dashed, and yet suddenly, there was a way ahead ... full steam, as we do in the nuking age ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oh sheesh, now it's a war with China and the perfidious French, both formidable opponents, who will make life difficult ... but never mind, this weekend, the bromancer is on a high ... even if the troubling doubts linger in the shadows of the mind ...

 

 

 

 

 

Ah, the realm of speculation ...

 

Not so long ago, indeed mere weeks, the bromancer's speculations were exceptionally gloomy, as the pond indulges in that cinematic technique, the flashback ...

 

 

 

 

 

But that was then, and this is now, and oh how the spirits might soar ... especially if you have one of those red pills handy, with an election just around the corner ...

Yep, the bromancer has had a series of conversations, and has been sold a pup, given a snow job, and all is forgiven and forgotten ...

 

 

 

But what of then? Can we stand another flashback?

 

 

 

No, no, no, the pond must insist... that was then, and this is now, and if you must, go ask Alice, she'll know, especially when Joe Biden has lost his head, a hookah-smoking caterpillar has given you the call, and remember what the dormouse bromancer now says ...

 

 

 

Yes, yes, it's all good, feed your head, feed your head ... stand tall and remember the onion muncher ...

 

Still paranoid about the Chinese and the perfidious Frernch? Not to worry, there's just a short gobbet to go ...

... which is to forget that hippie song, and croon along with the Twelfth of Never, and that's a long, long time ...

 

 

 

And so the pond soars past the soaring bromancer - that red pill, or was it a mushroom, certainly made his dreaming larger - and gets down with the Killer ...

 

Frankly the notion of Killer doing a French kiss in these Covid times is a little icky - perhaps more than icky - but the pond must include it just to show how desperate the reptiles are in these troubled times ...

And there was more of it with bonus Boris snap ... and yes the pond could be reading the most excellent John Crace sending everything in the whole sordid Owen Paterson affair up shitless ... if it weren't for Crace and Marina Hyde - Owen Paterson was just the fall guy. This week's chaos was all about Boris Johnson - the pond wouldn't know what to do with itself for pleasure ... because the Killer is just too weird for a pleasurable wank, let alone some tongue fondling and saliva swapping in a French kiss ...

 

Petulant quibbles ... the Killer is here to sort it all out, and bring the perfidious French back into the fold with a lovey-dovey strategy somewhat at odds with his usual Killer mindset ...

 

Yes, fling in a French reactor, and what about some barbed wire and a stocking too? But are you not entertained?

 

Okay, okay, it was a complete waste of space, a fatuous fantasy, from a foolish fabulist fop, and Killer really should get back to the Covid killing fields where he belongs ...

But that leads the pond on to its usual weekend Everest, and the most cunning strategy of all ... bore the perfidious French to death ...

Yes, it's nattering "Ned", the Chicken Little of columnists, with an endless wringing of hands, the donning of sackcloth and ashes, and calls that the sky is falling ...

 

Oh and the pond forgot to mention the hysteria. You know, the stakes could not be higher, it's a high-stakes game, forget the planet, focus on the subs ...

 

 

Hah! The pond just dropped that short gobbet in to generate a false sense of security, the sort of security we'll be getting from the twelfth of never subs ...

Stray readers should have spotted that ten minute warning sign. Yes, even the reptiles think you'll be wasting ten minutes of your life, ten minutes you'll never get back ...

The pond will entirely understand if you give up before really getting started ...

Oh dear, never mind the poor suffering reader, pity the poor suffering "Ned". What can the pond do to make things right, when the perfidious French are intent on ruining everything?

Perhaps an infallible Pope?

 

 

Okay there'll be no more of that nonsense, Glasgow Sydnome indeed, infallible Pope.

Sorry children, there'll not be another toilet break until the bitter end ...

 

 

Oh there's such a world of difference between being misled and a bald-faced lie delivered by an expert liar ... and it's clearly everybody else's fault ... and now on with more humbug, by an expert humdinger humbugger ...

Sheesh, "Ned" never knows when to shut up, and the more he carries on, the worse it all sounds ... and yet still he keeps on endlessly carrying on, way beyond the twelfth of never ...

 

What an expert liar he is ... or perhaps a bumbling clod measuring out blather about building a heaven in hell's despair, but we all now the pebble was right when he warbled ...

"SloMo seeketh only self to please,
To bind another to his delight,
Joys in another's loss of ease,
And builds a submarine and planetary Hell in Heaven's despite."

Oh well, French kiss and all that, and anyway, "Ned" is finally winding down, with only a couple of short gobbets to go ...

 

Oh fucketty fuck, the pond knew it ... the rapture, the bloody rapture yet again ... and so to the garden stakes and the tomatoes and so on and so forth ...

 

Yep, the subs are fucked, the war with China rooned ... why it seems almost a relief that the planet is fucked too ... and so to a David Rowe for the wrap, with more wrappers here ...

Wait, wait, there's a glutton for punishment in the house, and the pond knows just what you need. You see, the bromancer delivered an EXCLUSIVE late yesterday, and it goes without saying that the pond hangs on every distilled bromancer word ...

So here's an addendum, a corollary, to the wrap, presented without bow ties or cutesy cartoons, just the raw real deal ... as a way of explaining what set the bromancer off, and probably what set all the reptiles off, howling at the submarines they could see in the moon ...

 

 

Wow, a whole six months lopped off the schedule. No wonder that the bromancer was hysterical with delight ... but then strangely the reptiles flung in a click bait video featuring that dreadful Plibersek woman and naturally the pond had to defuse it ...

 

And with the click bait video defused there was just a short EXCLUSIVE gobbet to go ...

 

 

Ah the perfidious French, still the stuff of the bromancer's worst nightmares. 

Here have a planetary nightmare for making it to the end, because the pond swears it never wants to think about a submarine again ...