It happens pretty fast. The Abbott government can’t find a policy or an excuse that anybody likes.
The great big new levy; the breastfeeding billionaires’ baby bonus; the twenty-four-billion fighter bomber that won’t fly; the downed plane we can’t find in two oceans; the fifty thousand car-workers with nowhere to go; the disabled who suddenly aren’t disabled any more; the murderers Morrison likes to keep employing but dare not name; the bad words we can say to migrants now; the unnamed decade we’ll be in surplus; the war on Australian history; the slush funds that, as Greiner says, are ‘the inevitable fabric of the Liberal Party’; the three sacked Liberal Premiers, eight scarpering Ministers, and an Assistant Treasurer who seems to be on the take; the Liberal Party fundraiser the PM has ‘never met’; the Killing Fields in which the refugees’ children can work as child whores, or starve: all these point not just to a lousy contemptible government but to one that can’t remember what its last lie was.
Can they come back from here? Don’t think so. Even Paul Murray is dismayed, and that most soul-bought of shufflebums Paul Kelly this morning swears Abbott ‘excites hostility and provokes confusion’.
Day by day they bury the last bad headline under the next. But there are no good headlines, and for them there almost never were. This is the Gang That Can’t Shoot Straight, not a government. This is Mayor Quimby with red hand up a blonde and yelling ‘Ask not what the Budget can do for you. Ask what you can do for the Budget.’
There’s been nothing like them in our history, and I await each day developments with the occasional sweet sadistic surge of pleasure.
And so it goes.