In which the pond wanders about collecting bibs and bobs and bromancers and pastie Hasties ...

 

 

 

Sorry, there's still no room at the inn, or the pond, for featherweight featherheads, and so the ban on petulant Peta must stay in place, no matter the joy of seeing Malware get among the pigeons ...

The pond grudgingly might reconsider if petulant Peta were to come out with something noteworthy, like this ...

 

 

 

Now that's how to be a correspondent. Come on petulant Peta, don't just ravage Malware. Tri, tri, tri anti wonti ...triantiwontigongolope ...

The Daily Beast that that yarn here, with a full and proper explanation of the tweet ...

 

 

Come on petulant Peta, do something spectacular to get in the pond's good graces. Go full Sky News after dark imitating Faux Noise imitating Newsmax!

Frankly railing at Malware simply doesn't cut it, not when simplistic Simon is on the case, and Libs are delivering a good lashing all over the SM shop ...

 

 

 There you go, given a warm lettuce leaf thrashing by the long forgotten poodle, that'll learn him ...

The pond did however find time to pause to admire the latest effort by petulant Peta's subordinate ...

 

 

Indeed, indeed, the pond is always in favour of rehabilitation, though it helps if the person first acknowledges there's a problem, and so can begin the long journey, a journey the pond has personal experience of ...

Instead the onion muncher proposed that what was needed was fighting spirit ...

 

 

Might the pond humbly propose is that the last thing Mr Smith needs is a generous dollop of fighting spirit?

 

 

 

Speaking of fighting spirit, the war with the perfidious French continues, and was at the top of the lizard Oz's digital edition this day ...

 

Yar, just get over it, you prevert French frogs ... sure, I leaked on youse, but what did you expect, telling the truth and calling me a natural born liar?

Oh okay, at last the pond must get serious. Killer Creighton is out and about today, but as always, the pond must go with the bromancer ...

 

Talk about a weird grasping at straws. What the fuck has a domestic race for the governorship of Virginia got to do with SloMo v. the frogs?

But that's why the pond loves the bromancer so. The wiring under the bonnet must be about as useless as in the pond's old Nissan, which took a wiring whisperer to fix ...

Never mind, on with the bromancer explanation ...

 

You see, you've got to love the man. Bizarrely, the bromancer spent his opening trashing Biden trashing AUKUS and then promptly turned to trashing AUKUS by noting "The only new thing about it is nuclear-propelled submarines, but it turns out these are so far off in the never-never land of distant imagination that their practical relevance is unclear."

Got a spare dime? Good, because the bromancer will show you how to spin on it ... and now for some more spinning ...

 

The Alabama of the past? Oh surely not, surely the West Virginia coal-loving present ... but then the bromancer shows the tragedy of the current reptile situation.

There's the need for lip service for Scotty from marketing and then there's the cruel reality of his Keystone Kops klimate routine and his kruel backflip on beloved koal ... not to mention his submarine efforts ...

And so to the last of the bromancer's writhings in agony ...

Sure it starts with a clever Inspector Clouseau thrust, but then it's all downhill, a bit like Steve Martin standing in for Peter Sellers ...

 

Poor old bromancer ... so much suffering, and so far no good answer as to how his war on China is going to prosper ...

And so to another aside, because the pond can never cover everything, and so must rely on the likes of the infallible Pope for an infallible joke ...

 

Please allow the pond to amplify with a splendid picture of the situation ...

 

 

 

What a lark. Beefy boofhead Angus at his finest ...

Meanwhile, the pond had its own dilemma, what with the usual Thursday shortfall arising from the banning of petulant Peta. 

Should it go back and spend time with Dame Slap's outing yesterday? Not really, she was just jerking off about jerking the knee ...

What about that Yank import the reptiles often run?

 

 

Sorry all that did was remind the pond of a gobbet in Crikey, (paywall), speaking of not following the rules they blather endlessly on about ...

 

 

 

 

Indeed, indeed, and so on this day of bibs and bobs, and tattered rags and patches, the pond decided to do what it rarely does ... help a pollie break out of the reptile paywall, and run wild and free with his message to the world ... and in this case, it is the creationist-loving pastie Hastie, so it's all good ...

First however, every trace of bromancer heresy must be expunged from mind, because we're on a fundamentalist Xian love-in curve ...

 

 

 

And yet it's hard to put the dulcet murmurings of the bromancer aside.

"... the Morrison government has ditched an actual submarine program for a vague committee looking at future possibilities. How on earth will it bridge the unavoidable capability gap after the Collins?"

The hapless bromancer couldn't find a good answer to his many questions, but would the pastie Hastie be the one to bridge the unavoidable credibility gap?

 

 

Nope. There's the pond banning petulant Peta for being a featherweight featherhead, and yet running with a bantamweight dickhead thinking that the amount of dead in a war is some kind of badge of honour ... and a meaningful policy position ... and all that in aid of a colonial adventure in New Guinea by the failed conscriptionist ...

Meanwhile, how does it go in the old colony ...

 

Next week, the pastie Hastie on the triumphant success at Gallipoli, because think of the number dead ... what a guarantee of a perfect military strategy.

For now, we must be content with a final gobbet of blather in aid of a natural born liar ...

 

 

The pond will, of course, be long dead by the time any of this comes around, and the pond suspects that the pastie Hastie might well have left parliament, but that's what happens to even the most stout-hearted dickhead planet and defence fucker ...

The least the pond can do is offer the hasty pastie one a delicious slice of a David Rowe shit sandwich, with more delicious delicacies always on board here ...

 

Just look at that logo on the chairs and remember, sharkies rulez! Move on, move on, move on ... it's the way of the shark and natural born liars ...