In which the pond is aced by a populist drunk ...

 

 

The pond woke up this morning with a sense of grim foreboding. 

The previous evening the pond had been splendidly entertained by party time in the UK and Dom v. Boris and drinky poos on the lawn ... and then came this ...

...I’m afraid the only sane response to this is: what?! What are you even talking about? Did you or didn’t you go to a big party in your garden, you smirking fibreglass toby jug?...

Meanwhile, across the Atlantic there was the usual parade of nutters cruzing about ...

Jesus Christ, so many morons, so little time ...

 

That's enough snacking, fairy floss can get quite addictive ...

Once again the fabled land of Oz was finding it hard to compete and the pond had the sense that the reptiles would try to make something of the ongoing Djoker saga, and the pond, which never watches the tennis, was already well over it ...

The tree killer edition confirmed the pond's worst fears ...

 

Sure, there were crisis talks, but how many times can the pond crack a joke about the deeds of Domicron Dom?

 

 

 

And how many times can the pond crack a joke about the cry of freedumb, freedumb at the bottom of the page, as the reptiles remain addicted to Clive's ad crack, cash in the reptile claw, sniffed up the reptile nose or mainlined into the eyeball?

The tree killer edition was no better ...

 

 

 

Oh sure, there was a war with Vlad the impaler impending, and Troy was diligently recording the way that the GGs were gossips, because constitutional monarchy and all that jazz and jizz, and there were still those wretched Covid crisis talks, but there in reptile centre court was more talk of the Djoker ...

And when the pond went below the fold things were just as bad ...

 

Could the pond sink as low as fetching the Fletcher, when he's blathering on about the NBN as some sort of win-win for the coalition of dunces? Malware's monstrous multi-media thingie is somehow a triumph? In what alternative bizarro Fletcher universe?

So what about Singh singing the joys of Hindu fundamentalism?

Not really, and then there was a Willy and a Wally scribbling about the Djoker, as well as the lizard Oz editorialist, valiantly trying to fill in the hole left by the bromancer and the almost completely forgotten "Ned"... the fate of many a dreary drone ...

The pond returned up the page a little, and its worst fears were confirmed ...

 

The only pleasure the pond would get this day was Dame Slap ranting about the strollout man. 

Would someone please hold the pond's hose, so the pond can cover its nose, and get on with it ...

 

 

 

Right from the get go the pond had a problem. Only now do the reptiles discover that SloMo is a reliable humiliation?

Why should the pond feel humiliated about a tennis player, when there are so many other richer ratbag SloMo acts which bring a blush to the cheeks? What about that Fletcher chappie pretending the NBN is some sort of cudgel with which to bash Labor, just for starters?

Perhaps sensing that this was going to be as tedious as all get out, the reptiles decided to load up Dame Slap with snaps and click bait videos, and while the pond has defanged them, they're left in as part of the record, your honour, should the matter ever come to court ...

 

 

Oh well, it's not as good as drinky poos with Boris on the lawn, and there's no sign of climate science, but what the heck ...the pond must settle for SloMo as dingbat, and sssh, whatever you do, don't mention the refugees trapped in that hotel hell ...

 

Indeed, indeed, it would be entirely wrong of the pond to slip in a cartoon at this moment, but with perversity the pond's natural friend, why not ...

 

And now back to the humiliated and outraged Dame Slap giving SloMo the old heave ho and what for ...

 

Et tu Barners? Backtracking Barners? Yet you were so strong when it came the canine crunch ...

By golly it's time for the infallible Pope to return, the pond needs some help here ... and then came another click bait video, but not before Dame Slap had given the low rent populist drunk a jolly good slapping ...

 

 

 

Marketing blurbs from a middle management man? What was that the pond was reading about? Something about a Covid crisis? Weren't there stories about the hottest seven years in a row as some kind of record.

Oh never mind, the planet's fucked,  and those sorts of stories are elsewhere ...

 

 

 

 

We're back with the tennis, so why not make a fuss about a scheming, double dealing anti-vaxxer?

If it means calling out SloMo for the fuckwit he is, the pond can take it, and now m'lud for the record, the pond would like to note that Dame Slap's attitude has permeated the reptile mind set, though in a more genteel way with the lizard Oz editorialist ...

 

There's no mention of him being a populist drunk, but why did it take this long for the reptiles to discover that SloMo was a lying, impotent, incompetent PM? Oh that's right, they could still fetch the Fletch to serve up straight-faced bullshit about the NBN ...

The next gobbet offered the pond no further insight ...

So with all that done, and the Covid crisis and the planet's crisis safely ignored, and the war with Russia or China or whomever you've got held over until Australia Day (with a bit of luck), the pond can end with a little light comedy ...

What is it with the reptiles being unable to print 'arsehole'? 

Did they get into a technical argument, with head office insisting on 'asshole' - the reptiles are after all owned by furriners, which perhaps Dame Groan might note in her next groaning about pesky furriners - and the only clue left to decipher the solution to the argument was a string of ***'s, so that the pond could do a letter count to arrive at the word?

The reptiles then resorted to social media, despite the pond having read that social media had ruined the planet, or at least the reptiles' business model ...

 

Sorry, the pond rigorously excises all click bait videos in favour of screen caps, but really is it any big deal?

Of course he's a lying, sneaky arsehole, but then he's up against a lying, sneaky arsehole, or a populist drunk if you will, so that sort of balances things out ...

The full exchange? Sorry, a string of ***'s isn't the full exchange ... wash out your ***ing useless mouths reptiles and get with some dinkum Australian talk. 

It's a bullshit fucking excuse, and he fell over his own fucking lies, and he's an arsehole, and at some point the pond will get around to talking about the tennis player as well ...

 

Yep, they fucked up, that's the problem, isn't it, and meanwhile they fucked up the Covid crisis, and they're busy fucking up the planet, and hapless refugees remain in a never-ending prison, and it was left to Wilcox to observe the skilled moves of the populist fucking arsehole drunk, so that the pond might end this sorry post without the slightest hint of an apology or a sign of regret for having wasted any stray reader's time ...