In which the pond is tempted to do a Tootle on prattling Polonius, Dame Slap and the bubble-head ...

 

 

 

There are Sundays where the pond would like to be somewhere else, playing the field, spurning the reptiles, having flings, having good times, doing a kind of wild-eyed Boris ...

The pond would have even settled for another serve of bromancer devotion to Boris, providing the settings were right ...

 

 

 

On and on it went, as you can read here, and then there was Marina Hyde out and about and having fun ...

There was some splendid Boris bashing, taking up the Shakespeherian Rag which had been mentioned by the bromancer ...

I saw that preposterous old tit David Mellor running towards a TV camera to claim Johnson’s downfall was a tragedy “worthy of Shakespeare”, which makes you realise the writer Shakespeare could have been if only he’d realised making Falstaff king would have been the banter option, and the best way not to Get Agincourt Done. Watching Johnson fail to play Henry V for the past three years has been like watching the lift-music version of Laurence Olivier have a crack at the role. The sort of prime minister that makes people leave reviews like “Amazon, why is it not possible to give zero stars?” 

Then there was the ragging of the wagardly wascals who want to replace the Regency fop ...

Rishi Sunak: Along with Javid, once described The Rise of Skywalker as a “great night out”, and therefore should be immediately disqualified on grounds of judgment. Failed to even persuade his own wife to pay him tax – though that’s not mentioned in the campaign video he just dropped, which goes big on something called “paytriotism”. Currently joint favourite, naturally.
Penny Mordaunt: The other current favourite, reinforcing the notion that the less you know about these people, the better they look.
Sajid Javid: How madly overvalued is British political commentary? Well, we elected a newspaper columnist to run the entire country, and Javid’s resignation speech was routinely described by professionals who apparently watched it as “powerful” and “devastating”, when he fluffed his big lines and was more wooden than the Commons panelling. Still: a chance to give his previous non-dom status the attention Rishi Sunak’s wife’s non-dom status deprived it of when it emerged earlier this year.
Tom Tugendhat: Will be hoping the Conservative party could learn to be as pleased with him as he frequently appears with himself.
Nadhim Zahawi: One of three secretaries of state for education to have served under Johnson this week alone, Zahawi accepted his current position of chancellor with suspicious alacrity, considering it was like being promoted to ship’s purser on the Titanic 10 minutes after the ballroom had filled with water. I can’t wait to find out more about Zahawi’s business dealings – and feel we certainly shall do.
Jeremy Hu: Sorry, I got bored before I finished typing his name. Arguably an electoral problem

And so on, what with it being a huge field, giving Hyde grand pastures to roam ...

Then there was Elon Musk up himself, or more to the point up Twitter ...

 

 

 

and MTG letting off her usual crackpot conspiracy theories about mass shootings ...

 

 

 

 

(here) 

So many nutters and so little time ... and then this from AOC ...

 

Let him eat cake, and suddenly it all made sense, because Boris had a tremendously useful, remarkably cheap trolley which might be turned to the serving of not just lashings of beer, who doesn't like beer, but also cake ...

 

 

 

The pond knew this rush of blood couldn't last, and it would have to turn to the pedantic musings of pompous Polonius ...

 

 

 

Not the bloody war with China by Xmas, and MAD, and nuke them all, and perhaps Peter Sellers with a tricky arm, and Polonius doing a General Ripper impersonation, and worst of all still listening to RN, an addiction that seems worse than crack, such is the powerful way it mainlines into Polonius's noggin.

The pond was having such fun, romping off the tracks with Little Toot, and then it was back with the pursed lips, and Polonius doing his very best bromancer impression ...

 

 

There we go again, this time Polonius has been watching ABC TV, before settling into his long running dispute with Hugh White.

The pond has no dog in this fight. Couldn't we go on celebrating great victories?

 

 

 

 

Dammit, in his pedantic way, some might think Polonius seems to be cruising for a bruising ... but he's not sleepwalking to war, he's marching off in frog step with the vigor of a G. K. Chesterton hero ...

 

 

What will the pond take away from this outing?

I

n due course, it might become clear to the diligent reader what the pond will remember ...  that and the sense that the pond would rather be anywhere but here ... perhaps somewhere in a virtuous circle ...

 

Why the war with China now? Our allies are in tip top shape, and the pond understands that Britain is sending its ablest forces to save Singapore, as it once did long ago, and so the pond feels immensely safe and secure up against the deeds of wannabe dicator for life Xi...

 

But at least the distractions got the pond to the end of the war between Polonius and White ...

 

 

The lesson of Ukraine? When a sociopathic monster wants to pound you into submission at long range using artillery, expect soothing words from Polonius, and sweet fuck all else ...why, it was only a few days that the bromancer was helpfully explaining how to help Ukraine ..

...symbolism also has its risks. Australia’s overwhelming focus is our own region and we mustn’t be distracted from that.
The only military hardware we should donate to Ukraine is items we manufacture here and where we can increase the production run. It makes no sense for us to import kit from overseas, then donate it on to Ukraine.
There is no military useful equipment we have in sufficient quantities for our own needs in the event of any hostilities, though I would be happy to give away all our tanks and rid ourselves of the ludicrous expenditure, which will never have any relevance to our acute maritime challenge. Much better just to give Ukraine money.

Yep, just a dollar in the poor bowl will do ...

And so to a confession... for the first time in a long time the pond has failed the nattering "Ned' Everest challenge it sets itself each weekend...

Instead the pond preferred to spend time with Dame Slap, helpfully explaining how nothing should be done ...

 

Do the reptiles do nothing except listen to, or watch the ABC in their leisure time? Is that because in the interest of both sider balance, the cardigan wearers regularly feature the reptiles?

Of course Narelda Jacobs reckoned without the nattering negativity of nabob Dame Slap ... always standing by to explain why nothing is possible , why giving the pesky, difficult blacks a break posed a grave threat to the nation...

 

 

 

 

At this point, the pond should explain why it abandoned "Ned" in favour of a far right loon blathering on about massive pigs in pokes ...

 

It had to do with the return of the rough Brough, slouching towards the NT ... with the rough Brough endlessly featured in "Ned's" piece, because there's nothing like bringing back a massive failure to maintain the proud traditions of massive failures...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Everything in that gobbet - from the talk about American black culture to the bloody indignity of people speaking their own language - seven in a veritable tower of Babel-  to the pesky, difficult, uppity blacks not learning the English of their colonial masters, to the rough Brough saying he'd cut off their pocket money - shows just why the rough Brough's invasion ended in self-confessed failure ...

 

 

 

 

A fuckwit without the first clue, not that the pond underestimates the challenges, though even introducing Opal was an epic battle against white privilege and greed ...

 

In long ago days, the pond worked in the NT, spent considerable time in the Alice, and visited any number of remote communities, and there was only one thing that became clear ... the notion of a jumped up loon of the rough Brough kind arriving to tell the uppity blacks to speak in English and stop listening to music he didn't like would go down like a lead balloon ...

 

And that's why the pond gave itself a treat, avoided "Ned" blathering in endlessly, in the usual hand wringing, ashes and dust throwing, sky is falling way, leaving the pond to wonder when "Ned" had last taken an onground in country look at the lot of the dispossessed, invaded and abused first Australians.

 

Better to stick with Dame Slap explaining why nothing was possible, it was all too hard and too tricky ...

 

 

Yes, the only useful voice would be a powerless, ineffectual, impotent voice. It's just Dame Slap's humble contribution to the debate, down there with the rough Brough's impression of a colonial try to bring a little order to the natives ... dammit, got to keep the fuzzy wuzzies in line, they don't like cold steel, hot lead, and Mal Brough crooning along to Perry Como up them...

 

 

 

And with that done, it was time to end the lesson for the day in true Dame Slap style... because you wouldn't want permanent race-based privilege in the Constitution, not when there's already permanent race-based privilege in the Constitution, and it serves the right white race ...

 

Put it another way. Can you at least tell Dame Slap whether she will have the right to abolish the voice. A yes will suffice, and if it's a no, you can rely on Dame Slap to continue shouting in her most extreme voice from the rooftops that the last thing the pesky, difficult blacks need is a say in what happens to them and what is done to them ... it's the rough Brough way, it's the reptile way, and nothing can or should be done about it ...

Here have a cartoon before the pond proceeds to the bonus ...

 

Now the pond will admit that Gemma is no substitute for nattering "Ned" but on the upside she is short, full of self-righteousness, and so the pond might introduce some more irrelevant cartoons ...

 

 

Hang on, hang on, apart from Gemma being completely up herself, the pond can sense where this is heading and instead of a cartoon, the pond has just the right skit for the circumstances ...

Michael Palin: Ahh.. Very passable, this, very passable.
Graham Chapman: Nothing like a good glass of Chateau de Chassilier wine, ay Gessiah?
Terry Jones: You're right there Obediah.
Eric Idle: Who'd a thought thirty years ago we'd all be sittin' here drinking Chateau de Chassilier wine?
MP: Aye. In them days, we'd a' been glad to have the price of a cup o' tea.
GC: A cup ' COLD tea.
EI: Without milk or sugar.
TJ: OR tea!
MP: In a filthy, cracked cup.
EI: We never used to have a cup. We used to have to drink out of a rolled up newspaper in the green room in Gemma's TV station.
GC: The best WE could manage was to suck on a piece of damp cloth.
TJ: But you know, we were happy in those days, though we were poor.
MP: Aye. BECAUSE we were poor. My old Dad used to say to me, 'Money doesn't buy you happiness.'
EI: 'E was right. I was happier then and I had NOTHIN'. We used to live in this tiiiny old house, with greaaaaat big holes in the roof.
GC: House? You were lucky to have a HOUSE! We used to live in one room, all hundred and twenty-six of us, no furniture. Half the floor was missing; we were all huddled together in one corner for fear of FALLING!
TJ: You were lucky to have a ROOM! *We* used to have to live in a corridor! Until we knocked a company together and joined Gemma in the boardroom ...
MP: Ohhhh we used to DREAM of livin' in a corridor! Woulda' been a palace to us. We used to live in an old water tank on a rubbish tip. We got woken up every morning by having a load of rotting fish dumped all over us! House!? Hmph.
EI: Well when I say 'house' it was only a hole in the ground covered by a piece of tarpolin, but it was a house to US.
GC: We were evicted from *our* hole in the ground; we had to go and live in a lake!
TJ: You were lucky to have a LAKE! There were a hundred and sixty of us living in a small shoebox in the middle of the road.
MP: Cardboard box?
TJ: Aye.
MP: You were lucky. We lived for three months in a brown paper bag in a septic tank. We used to have to get up at six o'clock in the morning, clean the bag, eat a crust of stale bread, go to work down mill for fourteen hours a day week in-week out. When we got home, our Dad would thrash us to sleep with his belt! Until we picked ourselves up by our bootstraps and became fabulously wealthy thanks to Gemma's get up and go ...
GC: Luxury. We used to have to get out of the lake at three o'clock in the morning, clean the lake, eat a handful of hot gravel, go to work at the mill every day for tuppence a month, come home, and Dad would beat us around the head and neck with a broken bottle, if we were LUCKY!
TJ: Well we had it tough. We used to have to get up out of the shoebox at twelve o'clock at night, and LICK the road clean with our tongues. We had half a handful of freezing cold gravel, worked twenty-four hours a day at the mill for fourpence every six years, and when we got home, our Dad would slice us in two with a bread knife. But we was self-made we were, pulled ourselves up by Gemma's bootlaces and became the marvel of the land, or at least the lizard Oz pages...
EI: Right. I had to get up in the morning at ten o'clock at night, half an hour before I went to bed, (pause for laughter), drink a cup of sulphuric acid, work twenty-nine hours a day down mill, and pay mill owner for permission to come to work, and when we got home, our Dad and our mother would kill us, and dance about on our graves singing 'Hallelujah.'
MP: But you try and tell the young people today that... and they won't believe ya'.
ALL: Nope, nope... they might even tell Gemma to sod off ...

Now on with telling vulgar youff what for ...

 

 

 

Ah yes, true equality, true bravery ... here no cowardly lions, no cowardly lions here, just freedom fighters ...

And now back to the caring, sharing Gemma, deeply concerned at the suffering of men, raging at the cool kids as women are wont to do when they get a few ks on the odometer ...

 

 

Blather on bubble-headed booby, take up the white man's lot, while the pond goes out with a blaze of glory, knowing that when men are needed to run the show, or explain things, they can always import a woman trained by a cult, and she will come to the right sort of decisions when coupled together with men who love beer and aren't afraid to eat a slice of cake off a nicely presented trolley ...