A routine day at the reptile office, with Peronism, Marxism, class warfare, deep dark secrets and a lot of Enid Blytons ...

 

The pond has been following the latest US conspiracy theory, and for the first time had to pay attention to a US football match ..

And so on, and on, and weirder by the day ...

The pond wondered how the reptiles of Oz could possibly match this sort of outlandish paranoia and then remembered that last night the reptiles had a double bill starring the bromancer, with incipient Peronism the main feature ...

Suddenly the scales fell from the pond's eyes and it all made sense. Once the Swifties had fixed the game, thereby ensuring victory, jolly Joe would work to make Albo the new Peron of the south ...

In other words, it's the usual order of the day at the hive mind ...

The pond has already done the Peronista twista, so it's time for the South Pacific waltz ...

There's Peron himself, busy spreading Peronism across the Pacific ... no wonder everybody is flocking to Chairman Xi ... and that's making it incredibly hard for the bromancer's plan for war with China by Xmas, what with everything falling apart and everything in complete ruin, and the end of the world now nigh by Ēostre ...

Then came another snap of the Peronista at work ...

Could the bromancer keep up the astonishing level of consternation and alarm, as required by that Golding cartoon? 

Of course, that sort of carry-on is all in a day's bromancer work, paranoid hysteria is always the go ...

Indeed, indeed, and so to a rousing bromancer finish ...

Say what? All that good work and suddenly it ended like a Python sketch. It's all been moonshine, but jolly good, you've done well enough, carry on ...

Talk about a shattered pond. What a wimp, and what a concluding whimper, one that makes absolutely no sense. The government has still done well enough, on the basis of drinking moonshine? Waiter, another glass of moonshine, and make it a large one ...

The pond felt deeply deflated, and decided to wind back the clock and look at the reptile digital edition ...

So that's why the pond had blindly rushed in with the bro ... the Higgins matter occupying the top far right perch, and the grim twin spectres of "Ned' and Dame Slap glaring out at the world and the pond ...

The Oz comments section offered no alternatives, just the diabolical twins in a pairing...

The pond rarely indulges the rat in the rank, the cane toad from the deep north, so there was no way out.

The pond can hear the groaning already. Not the class warfare routine, it was old long before it became new again in the reptile hive mind.

The pond is already well over all that malarkey ... and so it settled for a burst of Chicken Little "Ned" pronouncing complete ruin ...

Those who bother to read "Ned's" splashes will have noted that he turned full Enid Blyton this day. As soon as anyone scribbles about the "real secret", you know you're going to cop a dose of unreal hysteria, end of world doomerism and all the rest of "Ned's" reliable deep unhappiness with life ...

Now it's not just the favouring of the poor over the idle rich that's the summer of "Ned's" discontent, it's the entire ruination produced by progressive taxation ...

The pond had in fact held its breath and did its level best to get through "Ned's" doomsterism reading of the runes as quick as it could, but then had to pause for a shorter gobbet ...

As you might expect, "Ned", haunted by teals and possibly whales (or camels, man, woman and television), continued to be astonished ...

It seemed about the right moment to slip in a Rowe...

And so to a final gobbet ...

It's incredibly amusing when you realise what all this "Ned" huffing and puffing is actually about, the real secret of the real reptiles ... a deep and abiding devotion to fat cats ...

Fat Cat! Suddenly the pond was back in Adelaide, and deeply moved by all the suffering heaped on Fat Cat and his friends ...

By now anybody sensible had raced off to a cold shower to wash off the last traces of Neddist doom, so it seemed reasonable to indulge in a little class warfare ...

The pond doesn't usually indulge Dame Slap ... the pond long ago grew tired of her weird fixation on the Higgins matter and all the rest that went with it ... but a more general rant is surely in keeping with the reptile spirit of quackery ...

Yes, it's a Peronista variant, take your partners for the reptile class warfare foxtrot ...

It seems to have escaped Dame Slap that the reason for all the anger and division tracks back directly to the reptiles, long practised in the art of angertainment, about the only way they can sustain their business model...

You can't have the lizard Oz without conflict, hysteria, alarmism and the end of the world by tomorrow, or perhaps the end of the month ... there's still time to subscribe to discover the exact time and place ...

As for the rest, Dame Slap is also in Enid Blyton mode, taking us on a great adventure to see what's being hidden ...

But it only needs one reptile to discover incipient Marxism, which is, rest assured, just the same as Peronism ...

The most rancorous Australia Day in history?

Every so often a fresh absurdity in the angertainment game catches the pond's eye and makes it all worth while ... but as we're still celebrating the day and cheap trinkets, the pond will allow a trip to the Daily Snail ...

Sadly the pond doesn't link to the Snail, but surely that was a pretty rancorous day, at least if you happened to be one of the victims ... except in Dame Slap's world, where the selling of cheap trinkets is somehow vital to happiness...

Now there's an inelegant expression. Did Dame Slap really mean to say that class warfare drives colonialism?

Never mind, it was a classic attempt at reptile angertainment, and a summation of the latest  elements in the most recent catchy reptile theme song.

To the barricades, and send money to the Emeritus Chairman for the class war ...

The pond waits now for the recall of a timeless classic, the faceless men  ...

Of course it became something of a long-running joke ...

Perhaps it's time to bring back the drover's dog, and combine the dog with the faceless men ...

Of course the bloody dog still couldn't learn the trick, and that's why the reptiles are so grumpy, with the apocalypse imminent...

Pardon the hollow laugh. Dame Slap really is way past the hill of irony. The pond loves it when she scribble about values that unite us, when she really means the angertainment that enhances the bottom line ... and that helps explain why in a nation of millions, the lizard Oz can calculate a readership in the thousands ...

Is it too much to ask for plain speaking ... too much to suggest that the reptiles are intent on snacking on this government, until they can bring back an easy life for the rich? You know, because it all went so splendidly under the onion muncher, Malware and the liar from the Shire, and Captain Spud will bring all the best of Queensland ploddery to the job ...

Meanwhile, the infallible Pope revives fond memories of Rawhide amid the pending apocalypse ...

And there's your real wild horse, one the reptiles will never discover, as they do their Enid impression and hunt for secrets and class warfare and Marxism and Peronism and all the rest of the tripe ...