In which our very own onion muncher does an Orbán, while New Zeelund ruins the planet and the Caterist's lunch, the bromancer is full of heresy and at last the Major has returned ...

 

At last the Major has returned to the lizard Oz for his Monday sermon ... but alas, he's been outgunned and outperformed and out-manoeuvred by a classy stayer, a narcissist who would turn up anywhere, just so he could keep on pissing into the wind and hearing the sound of his own voice, and talk of his splendid years at the top...

After all, if Viktor Mihály Orbán could do it, why not our own glorious onion muncher?

The pond can already hear the shrieks and howls and protests, and calls even for the pond to undergo a doping test ...

This is just the usual bunch of onion muncher blather, how could the pond shortchange the Major for this tripe?

It's true that the Major in one par celebrates coal, dinkum, clean, perfectly sweet Oz coal, but our very own Orbán must have his moment in the sun ... and soon enough, "me, myself, I" creeps into the tale, as it usually does with irrelevant old dinosaurs ...

Okay, the pond will finally explain why the Major was outgunned. The onion muncher was spruiking his "me, myself, I" wares at a particular conference.

Spoiler alert, it was the one which produced this tweet ... per The Independent ...

Yes, the onion muncher was on side with the CPAC mob, per WaPo... (paywall) ...

And speaking of CPAC and a love for Vlad the impaler, there was the onion muncher running with the mob, and even more remarkably, blathering about patriotism, because nothing says "patriot" more than being onside with a sociopathic imperialistic loon who imagines he's a Tsar of the Ivan the Terrible kind ...

And that's why the Major was gazumped, and the pond has no regrets and can turn with good cheer to the Caterist's latest apocalyptic armageddon about the end times arriving ... thanks to ... wait for it, slow drum roll, building tension, big pause, at last the announcement ... New Zeelund ... led by that demonic hussy who has marched us all the way beyond Orwellian nightmare to full dystopia.

By golly, the sheep lovers punch way against their weight ...

Luckily the Caterist got off his NZ jag for a grander nightmare vision of complete devastation and ruination.

Some might think of it as a weird acid trip, or at least a flashback ... but the pond remembers that in the closed confines of a shearing shed, the intoxicating smells wafting into the air, whether it was sheep shit or lanolin or sweat, could make the pond feel quite dizzy ...

So enough already, the devious sheep lovers have done their dirty business, and now everything is ruined ...

The pond could understand exactly what was troubling the Caterist ... zillions of sheep lovers on a relentless march with unstoppable momentum, and only a small band of plucky 'flood waters in quarries' expert decoders on hand to deal with them ...

What's that, it's just the usual mob ranting at the voice? And the reptiles posted a giant image of a video clip MIA?

Oh you fiendish Kiwis ... you've ruined the full to overflowing Intertubes and soon nowhere will be safe for the IPA, which reminded the pond of that link from a pond correspondent to a story in The Saturday Paper ... (paywall, but fun to read in full if you can).

Damn you Kiwis, you've ruined everything, you've even somehow managed to nobble the bromancer, and got him to speak some sort of damned heresy ...

Say what? The bromancer's thing about Marise has popped out again? Is there no end to the nefarious, not to say demonic, Kiwi influence?

A professional diplomat might be better than a Liberal party hack of the George kind?

The pond was sent reeling off by the heresy, and realised how much New Zeelund had undermined the world order ...

And so it was time at last for the Major's return, but it has to be said, the pond only does it because it's the pond's duty ...

After his break, the Major seemed a little slow and enfeebled, and it seems he spent his hols watching and reading the wrong people ...

Ah, at last an explanation of how that Order of Lenin went missing. Perhaps it was hindsight or foresight bias, and the illusion of past medals ...

Never mind, never retract, never surrender,  and the pond just wanted to welcome the Major back with Crikey's version of a splendid yarn that has entranced many ...

And now on with the Major's undying love of dinkum clean innocent Oz coal, and never no mind about all that talk of warmer oceans heating up the hurricanes that hardly ever happen in Hertford, Hereford and Hampshire ...

Good old Major, still full of gas, and love of coal, but at last with just a final gobbet to go, but with the pond increasingly alarmed at the Major's time away, which seems to have involved wandering through the likes of Kohler and ... oh noes, not Ross Gittins ...

It's astonishing to see the Major turn to Ross Gittins and Alan Kohler and the ABC and The New Daily and all that jazz, and the pond realised yet again with staggering force, just how much little New Zeelund had managed to ruin the world ...

As for the pleasure of owning an EV, might the pond offer this cartoon in closing ...