Abbott cannot survive as Leader of his party or of the Opposition for too many more weeks (as I predicted, as I predicted) now the hooker has proved to have been in New Zealand on the night she had previously, sincerely thought she had been in bed, in Sydney, with Craig. She now has an alibi for that night, and he has alibis for three other nights, and that’s four out of seven. And the question, the question, Watson — which I lately put in the mouth of Sherlock Holmes — is why would he book a whore, or whores, whom he would copiously pay for but not then fuck? This is not answerable, and it never was.
Abbott can now say this girl’s mistake proves nothing. But the politics of him saying that, and of saying there are other hookers, you mark my words, and Craig was with them on some of the nights, some of the nights at least, some of them, you mark my words, are lethal for him. He has already shown himself to be, in the eyes of many, many female voters, and many homosexuals, a sadistic bully, and to have hounded in parliament a nice man to the end of his rope. So he has no choice but to say now, at the very least, ‘The hooker allegations are now somewhat in doubt, and I apologise for overemphasising them. But what he did with the union money elsewhere, however, is not in doubt, and that was reprehensible. In the meantime I will accept his vote.’ And so on.
But it was just his luck, his rotten luck, on this, D-Day, and the sixtieth anniversary of his beloved Lillibet attaining the crown, that the best economic numbers since before the GFC arrived, and Joe looked a beaming, flabby-faced goof, and the nice Kiwi hooker said Channel 9 framed Craig knowing he was innocent, and so it went.
It is a double whammy he cannot survive. ‘Trust me with the numbers, and trust me with the truth,’ he will say. And no-one will.
And he’s gone for all money.
Or perhaps you disagree.