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Newspoll Versus Morgan: The Criminal Tendency Of Murdoch’s Numbers

In its most audacious fraud in many a long year Murdoch’s Newspoll showed Abbott’s government gaining half a million votes in a fortnight, the fortnight when he insulted the Irish, the Jews, the Aborigines, the United States and the Senate, backflipped on auto manufacturing and lied about submarines, and Pyne in a crazy shrieking outburst swore he’d sack seventeen hundred scientists if the Senate did not agree to pauperise all future students by Tuesday, and when they wouldn’t do that weirdly chirped, ‘I fixed it.’

A simultaneous poll by Morgan had Labor with seven hundred thousand more votes, on 56 percent, than Newspoll’s 51 percent. When Paul Bongiorno noted this contrast, Fran Kelly threw him out of the studio.

Morgan always gets it right; in Queensland, it said, correctly, 49.5 for Labor and ‘too close to call’. And, however Newspoll dresses up its mendacity — preference flow as in 2013; numbers ‘weighted’ to reflect the population distribution; 9 percent ‘refused’ or ‘undecided’ excluded — it can only be guilty, this week and often, of criminal fraud.

For it is not likely that the Coalition gained half a million votes while Pyne behaved as madly as he did last week; while Abbott said Shorten was like Goebbels and deficits for sixty years were ‘not so bad, considering’; while the Moss Report revealed that blow-jobs for marihuana had become the currency of Nauru and children were suiciding the, and S&M told pensioners they would get less money hereafter, and for the rest of their lives, precisely when they needed more.

But, like the Emperor’s new clothes, we are told by Col Allen there was no harm done Abbott that week, that fortnight, and the preposterous headline, TURNAROUND TONY, was thereby improbably, miraculously affirmed. And Abbott won back half a million votes. Does anybody believe that? Of course not. The emperor, O’Shannessy, is naked.

And the fact, pretty much, is what the Morgan Poll said it was: that the Coalition, in Pyne’s daftest week, and Abbott’s and Hockey’s most shamed one, lost three hundred thousand votes which it might not get back. And, were an election held on Saturday, Labor would gain fifty or fifty-two seats, and the Greens two or three. And no amount of shonky twisting and wrestling and mangling of numbers will get those lost votes back.

And so it goes.

ReachTel/Murdoch Tasmanian Figures False, As Always

Cheating as always, ReachTel finds 47.4 percent of Tasmanians voting Liberal, 23.6 percent Labor, 18.2 percent Greens and 6.7 PUP. Machines rang landlines on Thursday, late shopping night, while the Debate was proceeding, and got those uninterested in it, and not on a mobile, and not preparing dinner, or still at work, or driving home, and, sure enough, these underoccupied nonagenarians favoured the Liberals.

Similar machine-Thursday-landline polling in August by Lonergan, ReachTel and Galaxy had Rudd, Swan, Clare, Burke, Bowen, Dreyfus and Albo losing their seats.

Adjusting accordingly, therefore, along lines of their past error, and noting how well Gidding did in the Debate, and her support last night for a reopened asylum seeker ‘facility’ in Tasmania, I predict the result next week will be Liberals 35.2, Labor 33.4, Greens 20.5 and PUP 10.9 and a Giddings-McKim government, commanding 14 seats, formed by April 10.

That the poll would be taken DURING the Debate is a measure of Skynews’ frantic mendacity. Any later and the one in four undecided would have begun to decide.

It is time, surely, time these criminals were charged with fraud, and Murdoch immured in Port Arthur for the term of his natural life.

Murdoch, Tottering

On Sky News tonight Abbott’s first six months was trenchantly assessed by…his sister. She said she couldn’t for the life of her think of anything he’d done wrong except, maybe…just maybe…not having enough women in his ministry. The host, Chris Kenny, said Scott Ludlam saying he was a racist (no, he didn’t) and a homophobe (doesn’t want gays to marry, looks like he is) and going after unions (always has) was wrong, and a scandalous way to talk of our Prime Minister, he should show more respect, we all should show more respect…

No Labor figure was invited onto this programme, this half-birthday party, only a glumly tongue-tied Jack The Insider, itching to say more, showing how scared Murdoch’s getting lately. He does not any more have a dissenting voice on this show lest the landslide rumbling down on the government this week turns into an avalanche. After NDIS, Gonski, Broadband, Holden, Ardmona, Manus, Qantas, and now the WorkChoices ghost who walks and, oh yes, the cold war with Indonesia, the audible contempt of China and the UN saying we’re like North Korea sometimes there is no, repeat no, Abbott good news and Rupert, fingers in ears, is going la, la, la as any cult leader tends to when archangels don’t front and the seas don’t part, on schedule.

It must be hard for PVO and Kieran Gilbert and Kenny, who are not without intelligence, to endure the contempt of their peers and look forward to gaol terms like Rebekah’s but they must, like Faust, I suppose, take the rough with the smooth.

It will take a while but Newscorp by 2050 will seem as ghastly and silly as the Ku Klux Klan.

And so it goes.

The Thirty-Eight Worst Things The Liberals Did Yesterday (291)

Barnaby said ‘The world’s gone mad’ and refused to appear with Abbott in Grafton. This was a bad look, since he was likely to be his Deputy Prime Minister by Christmas. Barnaby was affrighted because a Chinese mine, gouging his electorate, had exhumed Tony Windsor, who was up and furious and red in the face as Barnaby now and standing against him, and likely to obliterate him, all experts agreed, in New England where his first party preferred vote was routinely seventy-two percent in the past, and Alan Jones, back refreshed from the cricket, would slash and rend him again and again, and bellow his ire across the national airwaves like Godzilla.

Abbott gulped and said well, ah, Barmy’s a local member first, and I as a local member once opposed etc, etc, but these Chinese I am assured, I am assured, I am reliably assured, will poison only one hundred percent of our ground water while stealing our wealth, and that’s a fair trade-off, I think. He grinned, uncomprehendingly, and was taken off in a headlock by Credlin, his constant travelling companion these days, and given her ‘special tea’.

China’s economy continued tanking, iron ore went down to 43 dollars, the dollar to 74 cents, and there seemed no hope of a Budget surplus in the lifetime of Joe Hockey’s young children. Tsipras prepared his proposal which would ruin the European economy if it was taken up, and destabilise the world if it was not. ‘Zenk Goad veef goatt Joe Huckey to zort sings owt for us,’ Matheus exulted.

For two days in court Bill Shorten performed better than Clarence Darrow, flummoxing the Royal Commissioner Dyson Heydon, who eventually grumpily admonished him for being so good at his job, and so efficiently shoring up his political base; and PVO said he had ‘never been more disgusted’ than he had been by Bill’s transfixing success as a communicator, advocate, star witness and party leader; and sly evader, thus far, of the Murdoch lasso and lethal injection.

It was clear there would be no election this year. Turnbull was attacking Abbott, Bishop attacking Turnbull, Barnaby attacking Hunt, Abetz beseeching any Liberal who did not agree with him that sodomites fry in Hell to leave the Ministry, Dutton in league with a chaotic authoritarian tropical hellhole whose coppers unpunished rape children and half of whose parliamentarians presently simmer in gaol, and Cory Bernardi about to unzip and reveal his sex change, or whatever it was that was lately on his mind. And it might be difficult in these circumstances to win back the million votes the ‘Duke of Edinburgh Moment’ and Joe’s calamitous first Budget and his abolition of the auto industry and Abbott’s plainly visible growing dementia had lost them; and, oh yes, their revulsion at gay marriage which everyone under fifty wanted.

The anniversary of the downing of MH 17 came and went. It seemed the Ukrainians had shot it down, and the ‘shirtfronting’ of Putin, not that it happened, was an act of libel Abbott should apologise for, if he could remember that far back, in a full-page advertisement in Pravda.

The search for MH 370 continued, at Australia’s expense, in three oceans. After eighteen months no skerrick of it had been found, in an area of water the size of Australia; but half a billion more will be spent on it which we might have used to save the car industry, or free university degrees for Aborigines or better houses for the disabled. The search will go nowhere near Diego Garcia, where the Americans shot it down in mistake for a low-flying nuclear attack.

Julie Bishop said she would ask the President of Nauru to stop torturing innocent citizens, gaoling parliamentarians, and letting rapists go free. ‘If my tone is severe enough,’ she said, ‘I am sure he will abandon totalitarianism, stand aside from his position, and ask Justice Heydon to investigate his country and recommend the imprisonment of his Cabinet and police by January, 2018. Until then we will continue to give him the tens of millions a week he will need to continue his corrupt, extravagant junta in its present lifestyle.’

Reith said there was ‘no way’ Tony Windsor would beat Barnaby though his primary vote in 2013 was sixty-two percent. Bruce Billson said big business ‘donated equally’ to both sides of politics with no thought for monetary gain. You can’t make this stuff up. The lies told by the Liberals hour by hour were staggering and befogging, and bespoke a parallel universe in which these things were somehow, actually happening. Abbott said it was perfectly all right for Barnaby to be attacking, publicly, his fellow Minister Hunt, and if, well, if, um, Turnbull went on Q&A and attacked his policies there, well, that would be all right too.

And so it went.

And so concluded another day of the worst free-elected government in over a thousand years, since the invention, in its present form, of democracy in Iceland in 934 AD.

The Twenty-Nine Worst Things The Liberals Did Yesterday (290)

Turnbull told the Sydney Institute that Abbott had been disproportionate — or, frankly, deluded — in his response to ISIS. It wasn’t like Stalin’s Soviet Union, with twelve time zones and an army of twenty million at its back, nor like Hitler’s Germany, which killed seven million of its minorities, nor like Tojo’s Japan, which occupied Burma, China, the Philippines, New Guinea, Indonesia and many, many Pacific islands, and only a nutter would make that comparison. He then said ‘time will tell’ if he would go on Q&A or not. This to some seemed a declaration of war on his leader, whose recent bizarre outbursts (‘Whose side are you on?’; ‘Heads should roll’) showed recurring ‘Sir Prince Philip’ symptoms, and perhaps the moment had come.

Hinch said he should ‘go to the backbench, do a Peacock’. Janine Perrett said he had a right to say what he said, which was on the money. Paul Murray said sure it was, but he should ‘swallow the party line’. You can’t make this stuff up.

The Tube Bombing was commemorated, and it became clear Man Monis would not have terrorised the Lindt nor killed Tory Johnson had the slim young men in Brandis’s office known what they were doing. They had somehow thought ‘harmless’ his request for permission to contact DAESH and offer himself to them as a recruit. This was in no way as serious, Abbott said, as letting Zaky Mallah for the third time into Q&A and then imperilling the nation by asking a vetted question nobody would obect to. Much more dangerous than Man Monis, Abbott said.

Ray Martin was encouraged to resign from the committee he was on, because he’d agreed, prematurely, with what Turnbull’s committee had said, that nothing much was done wrong by the ABC, and the boycott of this programme, but not others, was ‘silly’. How dare he acknowledge the bleeding obvious after only eight days’ consideration? Months were needed, surely.

Dawn Fraser apologised to Nick Kyrgios for saying, pretty much, what Steve Ciobo had said to Zaky Mallah: if you’re going to behave like that, you shouldn’t be living here, it’s better you lived somewhere else. Zaky remained unarrested, and well respected in Lakemba as an anti-DAESH campaigner and counsellor of troubled youth, and Ciobo and Abbott grew more and more isolated. It was argued Abbott owed his Prime Ministership to Q&A, whose early programmes he constantly appeared on, touting his leadership qualities with charm and geniality. But it had served his purpose now, and must, like the pregnant Kathy Donnelly, be discarded, boycotted, ruined.

Shorten was asked if a businessman had paid for his campaign director, and he said he had. It prived this had cost the businessman forty thousand dollars, and Shorten’s people had not, till a week ago, declared it. The fine for this lateness, if imposed, was a thousand dollars. Finding this out cost the government eighty million dollars.

It seemed that China would bring in cheap workers to displace Australians in its new enterprises here. Andrew Robb said this was a very fine thing. China’s economy then imploded, meaning there would be more Chinese buying Sydney apartments now, and less new enterprises. Andrew Robb said this a very fine thing. Australia’s dollar dropped to seventy-four cents, barely two thirds what it had was Abbott got in. Joe Hockey said this was a very fine thing.

John Blanchard, of the ANU, said on the Stan Grant show that Abbott’s Chicken Little madness came from his anti-multicultural fever, evidenced by his phrase ‘Team Australia’, and foreign birth and persecution for his funny accent when he was a child. Tristan Haddon said his ‘confected outrage’ about everything derived from his hot-flush, demented reaction to Zaky on Q&A, which may have been alcohol-related. The Skynews sound here blurred, and this good sense was obliterated. Abbott’s ‘DAESH death cult’ bogeyman rhetoric, Blanchard said, had stirred up the many neuroses of Man Monis, and thus caused the deaths in the Lindt Cafe. As had Abbott’s refusal to talk to him, of course. And Brandis’s etiolated young men’s refusal to ring the fuzz, and have him put away.

Richo was disembowelled, and came back looking chipper. Tens, perhaps dozens, of Skynews viewers wrote in thanking him for his life. He asked David Briggs, of Galaxy, which had replaced Newspoll after years of its blatant lying, how the fuck he was able to make up for the fact that no-one young owned, or answered, a landline any more. He said certain crooked corporations now supplied him, for a price, with certain mobile numbers, carefully selected to favour the Liberals, and thus please Murdoch, which was the point of the exercise. Richo said this was a very fine thing.

Paul Murray called ‘worse than the Katyn Massacre’ Bill Shorten’s arrangement with a businessman who paid for his campaign manager. Peter Beattie said it was not illegal andwould do Bill no harm. Paul Sheehan said Shorten’s poll figures — leading Abbott by 56.3 to 43.7 and winning back forty seats — meant he was a ‘total failure who would never be Prime Minister.’

Some criticism was voiced of Abbott’s view that DAESH, a worse threat than Hitler, Tojo and Stalin put together, must NOT be fought on the ground by volunteers whom he would put in gaol for twenty-five years if they tried it on, or by armies either, and the best way to repel, degrade and destroy them was to cancel their citizenships if they had another country to go to, this being a ‘weapon of mass destruction’ like no other which would ensure their extinction within a hundred years. It was patently clear that he did not know what he/was doing, and Turnbull’s view had merit to it, and he should be made Prime Minister by the Equinox.

And so concluded another day of the worst free-elected government in over a thousand years, since the invention, in its present form, of democracy in Iceland in AD 934.

The Twenty-Nine Worst Things The Liberals Did Yesterday (288)

It was revealed that Julie Bishop had lied to the House, and should resign. She had said a crucial communication had not been shown to her, and it was.

It was to do with Man Monis asking Brandis if it was all right to contact ISIS, and his office of slim young men saying it was. Had it been noticed by these insipid handsome fools that contacting ISIS was against the law, Man Monis would have been arrested, and not have transfixed the nation in the Lindt Cafe, or killed Tory Johnson with a bullet to the head or incited the killing, by ardent fuckwitted police, of Katrina Dawson with twenty-two bullets or bits of them after the ‘terrorist’ was already deceased. He could also have been stopped, perhaps, if Abbott had taken his call, or those of two frantic female hostages. He was ‘too busy,’ he said. And so two people died. He, too, had lied about the Man Monis letter, and, under Westminster rules, should resign.

Though he would do nothing like this, of course, of course he wouldn’t, the shadows were closing in on him, as calls grew for him to ‘get out of the way’ of global gay marriage, and his caucus numbers showed he tactically could not. Even if his firm belief that sodomites fry forever in Hell could be somehow rescinded — and he had a track record of abjuring long held beliefs, like how he should marry Kathy Donnelly if he knocked her up — it was thought by $inodino$ and other numberspersons that he could not hold his position, or hold it for very long, if he dared allow a conscience vote, or even the discussion of a conscience vote, or even the discussion of a discussion of one, in a party room whose numbers were heavily against it, and would tear him down if he tried it on.

An Honour Roll of those who had died waiting to marry was proposed in Table Talk, a blog widely read by homosexuals. Abbott had abolished gay marriage in the ACT on its fourth day in November 2013, and the numbers since then of the ‘glorious dead unwed’ were growing.

Turnbull’s people showed the ABC had done nothing wrong, Zaky Mallah remained unarrested and widely admired as an anti-DAESH campaigner (‘a jihadist for peace,’ the Murdoch papers had lately, proudly called him) in Lakemba and elsewhere, and Steve Ciobo was said by lawyers to have broken the anti-terrorism laws by making a public, violent threat, and might soon be arrested in his home state, Queensland, and put in the slammer for two years, sharing a cell perhaps with Dutton, the people smuggler.

Abbott was made to pose in uniform by some Americans, recalling the ‘Mission Accomplished’ moment of George W Bush, which he was too brain-damaged, some said, to remember.

The dollar fell to the lowest it has been for thirty years after word got round that Joe was an idiot, and his country moving in the direction of a Failed State now his second Budget was in carnage and his leader a ludicrous figure on the world stage and his Cabinet colleagues a hive of mumbling and fidgetting fundamentalists who believed, in some cases, that homosexual marriage would encourage teenagers to fuck marsupials.

It was revealed Tim Wilson, the nervous neo-fascist dipstick promoted above and beyond his intellectual capabilities to Human Rights Commissioner by Brandis, who fancied him, spent last year 77,363 dollars on ‘travel and expenses’ on top of his 332,000 wage and 40,000 accommodation allowance, which added to his wallet 1231 a day which the taxpayer gave him for his arduous work writing things on an envelope with a pencil once a week and appearing on television. On that medium he said that freedom of speech should not be extended to Tony Jones if he was going to be ‘snide’ all the time, or to Q&A if it was going to ‘chase ratings’ with ‘gotcha moments’ unlike any other news panel show in history.

The 449,362 a year he earns from thus enfeebling democracy could support in frugal comfort fifteen disabled persons or twenty of their carers for that same period. ‘What do you expect me to do?’ he said of his 15,000 dollar taxi bill. ‘Never leave the office?’

You can’t make this stuff up.

The near half million thus spent on this greedy dill by us, the people, meant there was no Disabled Commissioner any more; no ‘helpline’ calls for Aborigines in prison; nor, indeed, many beds for women fleeing domestic violence, eighty of them each day, in refuges now so crowded that it was lately said that getting a bed in a safe house after being bashed by one’s drugged or drunken husband was ‘like winning the lottery’.

The government clearly had its priorities right, with a million spent every year on planes with no people in them on the way to pick up ministers in Cairns or Perth and ten million on refurbished offices and three hundred thousand on accommodating Joe Hockey in a house his dad and wife owned and indeed a half billion, and rising, they were still expending on looking for MH370, no skerrick of which had been found in three oceans in a year and three months of corrupt and fruitless navigation. Great wadges of money were being spent on war museums and none on shellshocked, suicidal soldiers home from Afghanistan and screaming in their sleep..and so on.

Julie Bishop said she hoped the corrupt ramshackle junto now fracturing Nauru and covering up each day the buggering of children by its creepy police would ‘abide by the rule of law.’

Barnaby said if we have gay marriage here, our neighbours will think us ‘decadent’. One of these neighbours, Malaysia, has locked up its Leader of the Opposition for nine years for’sodomy’. We must retain the respect of these people, he said, lest they think us bad or sinful people. We must do what they do. Or they will not buy our cattle.

You can’t make this stuff up.

And so concluded another day of the worst free-elected government in mankind’s history since the invention, in its present form, of democracy in Iceland in AD 934.

And we will see what we shall see.

The Thirty-One Worst Things The Liberals Did Yesterday (287)

‘Though it would take no more than a day to discuss and enact it,’ Abbott said of gay marriage, ‘and cost no more than the paper it was printed on, it is time and money this nation cannot afford. The eighty million spent hounding Gillard, Rudd and Shorten, however, and the half billion seeking MH 370, and the two million pursuing and shaming Q&A, and the ten million redoing our offices, show a government better focussed and prioritised than any since Federation. The two million Australians we will agonise by thwarting their nuptial happiness can wait. Let them groan and heave and pine for their stifled honeymoons a year, a decade longer.’

Asked if he would apologise for abolishing same-sex wedlock, then already in force, in the ACT in 2013, he said, ‘I have no memory of having done this.’ Asked if he applauded the US Supreme Court decision he said, ‘I have no specific knowledge of the deliberations of that institution and I will have my office get back to you.’ He then punched the air for a moment, yelled ‘Ah am de greatest!’, and ran on the spot. Credlin got him in her familiar headlock and dragged him off the stage.

Turnbull was a little surprised to be asked by his old friend Abetz to resign from Cabinet, for, in the latter’s words, ‘consorting with pansies in Kings Cross more often than was healthy for him’. He was surprised, too, to hear the new word ‘polyamory’ which meant, as he understood it, ‘fucking animals with cloven hoofs and pouches in whatever orifices presented themselves while they slept.’ He was on the whole against this practice, he said, though Abetz, in well-forested Tasmania, might have more opportunity for it. He was especially repulsed by congress with Tasmanian Devils but said, ‘Oh well, if it’s Eric’s taste, so be it.’

Abbott’s sister Christine, whom over most Christmas dinners he genially calls a ‘muff-diving shirt-lifter bound for a billion years in Hell’, urged him to bring on a conscience vote and ‘get it over with’ lest it become a damaging election issue before year’s end. But it turned out that Abbott and Credlin were planning an early election, in August or September, and they feared a conscience vote would be won, before then, by the Hellfire Faction, and gay marriage would then become a damaging election issue anyway. The Hellfire Faction, seventy-eight votes, morosely began to wonder if the Muff-Diving Faction, twenty-four votes, might in due course split from the party, or threaten to; and it seemed, one way or another, that Abbott might not, easily, survive as Prime Minister after August, even if he was sane. He was, however, barking mad, and was well known across the world to be so, and was lately having what was known as a ‘Duke Of Edinburgh Moment’ very frequently these days, sometimes twice a week.

Miranda Devine, a Liberal voter from the Hellfire Faction, said on Skynews the poll figures were wrong, and the seventy-two percent of Australians who supported gay marriage were more like thirty-two percent, and the Labor Party was ‘unelectable’.’ This in spite of Morgan showing them winning back every seat which Abbott had taken from them and Essential showing Shorten leading Abbott by 56.3 to 43.7. It was noted that she also believed Christ’s mother, who had five children, died a virgin, and the eating of God’s flesh on Sunday was a good idea. It was for insights like these that she was richly praised by the Murdoch channel, and wonderfully rewarded with a quarter of a million or so a year for two days’ work a week; and her dizzying beauty, of course, now fading.

Some interested pundits began to number the ‘Duke Of Edinburgh Moments’, not just of Abbott but his team. Barnaby saying ‘It’s time that Pistol and Boo buggered off back to the United States.’ Abetz evoking a ‘Pandora’s Box’, which called to mind an image of blackbirds flying out of an open vagina. Joe saying the best way to a house in inner Sydney was ‘a good job that brings in a lot of money’. Dutton wanting the power to banish without evidence or criminal proceedings anyone who displeased him. Abbott alleging that paying salt-water thieves to dump kidnapped children on a storm-lashed reef was okay with him, it was ‘by hook or by crook’ one turned back the boats, and the boats had stopped, he assured us, though more were in perilous voyage than at any time since Dunkirk. Abbott saying, last Saturday, ‘the DAESH death cult is coming after us’. Pyne, before that, saying, ‘I’m a fixer’.

These utterances indicated, to some observers, and to perhaps no more than eight million voters, that they didn’t know what they were fucking doing. That they were a bunch of whackoes, many of them homophobic. Innumerate fundamentalist dipsticks not yet caressed, at least in the present century, by any touch of human sympathy. A chaotic scrum of psychopaths. A bunch of ratbags, as the old phrase is.

And so it went.

The Fifty-Six Worst Things The Liberals Did Yesterday (284)

Karen Nettleton revealed she had been for nine months trying to get her five grandchildren, who were in danger of crucifixion, home from Syria but the Commonwealth Police, after four months, said they couldn’t help her. Peter Dutton, the first free-elected mandrill in a western parliamentary democracy, whooping and scratching himself and clinging with prehensile toes to a parking meter, the way he does, said she couldn’t come to him either, it were better she contacted the Commonwealth Police. Julie Bishop, beaming, said the children’s crucifixion by DAESH was ‘not a serious foreign policy concern’, and until it was established their father was dead she would make no move to help them; and, if they were crucified in the meantime, ‘well, shit happens.’ Her adoring Malvolio, Peter Hartcher, mixed her a third martini and brushed with tremulous lips her thin green feline fingernails.

A Newspoll was suppressed. A ReachTEL poll on Saturday showed Shorten leading Abbott as preferred Prime Minister by 12.4 percent, or 1.8 million votes. Troy Bramston, lately labelled ‘the smirking tapeworm in the anus of the Labor Party’, said Abbott was ‘on the way back’ and would easily win an early election.

Abbott said he was against gay marriage, though the USA, the UK, Ireland, Canada, South Africa and New Zealand were for it now, and he ‘in no way regretted’ abolishing it in the ACT in 2013. Pyne and Turnbull said it should be enacted urgently, lest they have to go to election, in bisexual suburbs, defending their leader’s medieval view that it was ‘an abomination, incurring a billion years in Hell.’ Cory Bernardi said ‘the wedlock of sodomites would lead to bestiality’, as it had already, he alleged, in New Zealand.

Sophie Mirabella, a voluptuous Mediterranean beauty who had been thought by some to have ‘assisted’ in the redrafting of her demented longtime lover’s will to favour herself and impoverish his children, was reselected for Indi, an electorate where she was famed for this legendary dirty deed — reminiscent, David Stratton said, of ‘the plotlines of both All About Eve and Double Indemnity’. She swore she was ‘humbled’ and ‘repentant’, adjectives not wholly convincing to Tony Windsor, who had called her a ‘cruel, vengeful, dominating bitch’ in his highly respected memoir, and promised she would, this time round, ‘see at least one constituent per year in my next term of office.’ Many cabinet ministers who had defrauded the taxpayer to fly to her big fat mafia wedding were ‘overjoyed’ to see her back.

The Calabrian mafia was found to have assisted some Liberals into federal parliament, ‘out of the goodness of our hearts, comprende,’ their Griffith spokesman Salvador Corleone swore, ‘with no thought of any reward or, how you say, kickback.’ He denied that one of these was Steve Ciobo, ‘a man of extreme probity, so extreme we have had to come around and talk to him quietly about it.’ Ciobo denied being Italian, locked the door and crawled under the bed.

Zaki Mallah continued to walk free, buy coffee, greet admirers. Though a manifest danger to the nation and its womanhood, George ‘Soft Cock On Terrorism’ Brandis did not arrest him, nor admonish those Channel Nine executives who gave him, last week, a platform on its website, and the Commonwealth trembled in its shoes. In a tremendous punitive response, the charismatic Alan Tudge refused to go on Q&A, and the chronic blithering Murdoch yes-person Nick Cater, and horror filled the corridors. They thought for a moment of substituting Bob Ellis, but wiser heads prevailed.

Tudge had appeared in front of a sign saying ‘ditch the witch’ and claimed not to have known it was there, though dozens of similar signs were in his line of vision on a hill in Canberra observed by the nation on fourteen channels. Asked if Alan Jones’s proposal that Gillard be towed out to sea and thrown overboard in a sugarbag was a perhaps unacceptably sexist act of treason and terrorism, he said there was ‘no comparison’; Mallah had proposed to gang-bang two lady journalists; murdering a detested female Prime Minister was, in comparison, ‘an entirely acceptable suggestion by a respected community leader whose essential inner benevolence no-one could misunderstand.’

You can’t make this stuff up.

Abbott amazed the world with a speech he gave in Singapore. Believing, the way he does, or the way he tends to, that ‘what happens in Changi stays in Changi’, he said Australia had no regrets, no enemies, and a history of slavery, mass murder and ethnic cleansing it could be rightly proud of. Several hundred Aborigines proposed to meet his returning plane and point the bone at him. Credlin got him in her usual headlock and dragged him off the stage. ‘He gets like this sometimes,’ she told a translator. ‘A little over-excited.’ He had a steadying brandy, then came back to tell his audience that the death cult DAESH was coming after them too, every one of them, tomorrow. ‘You can run,’he said, ‘but you can’t hise.’The suave son of Lee Kuan Yew moved his finger in a circular motion round his left ear subtly and winked at reporters.

In what proved to be a very fine Q&A it was shown that though Zaky Mallah had been praised by Paul Kelly’s paper The Australian as a ‘jihadist for peace’, Paul thought he should have been dragged in handcuffs gagged from the studio. He praised him for his good work deradicalising Muslim youth, and said he must never, ever get a microphone again. He then warned Jones that the ABC would be abolished if he, Scott or Philip Adams were not, soon, publicly decapitated. ‘A necessary blood sacrifice,’ he murmured, ‘is needed to soothe Tony Abbott, who is mad as a gagged marmoset and kicking the furniture.’

He then referred, movingly, to his deity, who proved upon inspection to be Rupert Murdoch. Tim Wilson, a gibbering idiot, said everyone was entitled to his opinions but he would fight, fight, fight, to the end of time to prevent Zaky expressing his, however virtuous, to anyone at all. Asked if Zaky should be in gaol he said, ‘That’s typical of your snideness, Tony Jones, your slimy camp sneering nastiness, and I hate you, I hate you, and I… break wind in your general direction.’ Lawrence Krauss the eminent cosmologist said Steve Ciobo was an ill-tempered fascist moron but not quite, happily, as deranged as the hell-threatening pulpit terrorist and homophobe Fred Nile.

A Four Corners revealed that Russell Broadbent, xxxx, and Amanda Vanstone were underpaid Calabrian mafiosi.

Greece defied world capitalism, and the stock exchange teetered, and it seemed, pretty much, that Europe was doomed.

And so it went.

Today’s Newspoll

There is no Newspoll today. This indicates the figures are so dire for Abbott (‘heads must roll’; ‘by hook or by crook’; ‘the death cult DAESH is coming after us’) that Rupert, or Chris Mitchell, has ordered they be suppressed.

ReachTEL, meanwhile, shows Shorten, on 56.3 percent, leading Abbott, on 43.7 percent, as preferred Prime Minister. This gives him 1.8 million more votes than Abbott, whom the Murdoch outlets have acclaimed as being ‘on his way back’.

The always accurate Morgan Poll has Labor, on 54.5 percent, leading the Coalition, on 45.5 percent, by 1.25 million votes, a greater margin than any achieved by any Australian government since 1931.

The Nettleton Killing Season

It’s the Murdoch method of course. You assert a new rule as if it’s an old rule, and it’s been around for hundreds of years. That Peter Slipper can’t say ‘cunt’ in a private communication, and if he does he can’t be Speaker. That Zaky Mallah can’t voice an opinion on a show where opinions are voiced, routinely. That if you fight on the right side in a war in Syria, like Zaky did, or Matthew Gardiner, you should go to gaol for it, for twenty years. That if you crash planes into the Twin Towers, or you assist someone who does, you can’t be tried in New York, as this would upset the relatives of the dead. That you can’t build a mosque within half a mile of the Twin Towers, but you can within two miles, because…

The latest new rule is the Nettletons can’t came home, though they’re in danger of beheading and crucifixion, if they can’t provide body parts of their father and husband, Khaled Sharouf. No corpse, no plane ticket. This was not required of Peter Greste, nor anything like it. It was not required of John McCain, when he was a POW and the Viet Cong proposed to let him go.

It’s a new, new rule. If your husband is not provenly dead, young woman, you soon will be. You’re nothing to do with us; you’re cactus; you’re…dead meat. Get used to it; in the few days you’ve got left. You’re Australian citizens, in danger overseas, and we owe you nothing. Nothing. Not like two drug runners in Bali. They were special. They were deserving.

How much more contemptible, unjust and contradictory can this government be? Dutton says the children shouldn’t be allowed to come back because of opinions they might utter in primary school, and thereby miraculously convert other infants to terrorism. As if they can have magical powers, and a teacher can’t reprove them for their wild opinions, make them go stand in the corner.

Better they stay behind in Syria and be beheaded. Better for our nation.

It is not, nor has it been for a while in doubt, that Peter Dutton is a moron. What is more disturbing is the thought that he, too, has magical powers, and people will believe him.

The Thirty-Four Worst Things The Liberals Did Yesterday (272)

Phillip Ruddock said it was cheaper to pay people smugglers to turn round than take in genuine refugees and shelter them. Told it would be even cheaper to shoot the refugees and the people smugglers and steal their boat and sell it in Cairns, he said, ‘It’s not all about the money. It’s also about defeating Labor.’ Told the money we saved this way would be paid, in hundreds of millions, by the refugees’ principal carers, the Indonesians, he said, ‘Well the comfort is, they’ve got less money now, we’ve reduced their aid.’

Asked in Question Time why he disagreed with himself, Dutton said, ‘At least we had the guts to stop the boats.’ Told rewarding smugglers for punishing refugees was widely thought to be wrong, by well over seven billion people across the world, a significant majority, he said, ‘Watch it, sunshine. I’ll soon have the power to take away your citizenship, and I’ll do it too.’

Abbott celebrated Magna Carta, which said no man could be deprived of his citizenship without a fair trial. Asked about this contradiction, he said, ‘This is another millennium, and I’m in charge of it. Beep! Beep! Arriva! Arriva!’ His madness made frantic the Ministers behind him, who stopped their ears.

Ipsos said Abbott would lose thirty-five seats, Morgan fifty. Newspoll, a Murdoch entity, only twenty-five. It alleged that only 3 percent out of 12 percent of Independents favoured Labor. The actual figure was 7.5 percent, and brought the Labor vote correctly, to where Morgan said it was, 54.5.

Ross Cameron said no Australian would care how the boats were stopped, just so long as they stopped coming. Richo said they hadn’t stopped coming and he, Cameron, was a piece of filth. What you are doing, he said, is like paying bikies not to deliver Ice, and to take it back to Perth please, instead of putting them in gaol. He grew very red in the face, and seemed about to knuckle Cameron as the titles rolled. Paul Murray, bewildered, said he too was under the impression that paying human scum taxpayers’ money to commit vile crimes was ‘possibly morally dodgy, in, er, some contexts’, but he might of course be mistaken, and he would await with interest overnight instructions on what his latest ramshackle, blithering twist of conscience should be.

On Q&A Brett Walker said he never dreamed the Liberals would do this, deprive a citizen of his citizenship without a trial and a conviction. Bronwyn Bishop said they were doing it to ‘keep the people safe’. Gillian Triggs said the torture of children was wrong. Noel Pearson, a Liberal voter, said it wasn’t that many children. Bronwyn Bishop said Gillian Triggs should go into politics if she wanted to talk about human rights. Human rights was none of her business. Triggs said on the contrary, it was what she was paid to look into. Bronwyn said, ‘Well, it’s the first I’ve heard of it.’ Paul Bongiorno on RN said he was amazed that a Speaker, who was supposed to be impartial, should speak in this way to a defender of liberty on Magna Carta day. She was not impartial, he said, and her existence on earth was ‘regrettable’.

Asked if Abbott saying ‘by hook or by crook’ meant money had been paid to people smugglers Mathias Cormann said, ‘Zeez are on-vorter mudders eet ees our prektees nert to comment on. Eet meye vell bee zat Rudd und Gillard peyed smagglers to drown cheeldren arlso, but I vould nivva, nivva, nivva zeye zat. Nivva ivva zeye zat.’ Asked if his government drowned chiioren, he said, ‘Zees eez an in-vorter mudder I kennut pozziblee comment on.’

The Vice-President of Indonesia, Jusuf Kalla, said bribery was wrong, and Australia shouldn’t do it. He may well have thought kidnapping children was wrong too, and dumping them on a reef, but he didn’t say so. Abbott was amazed this person existed. In his psychotic panorama of the known world, there were no dissenting voices. Arriva! Arriva! Beep! Beep!

Fran Kelly, a Liberal voter, quoted with warm approval a Newspoll that had Labor on 51 and once more concealed an always accurate poll, Morgan, which had them on 54.5. It was the hundred and twenty-first Morgan she had concealed. It was a poll whose very existence annoyed her.

Julie Bishop said Indonesia should look to its own borders, and drive back women and weeping children into the prevailing typhoons. Told there were fifteen hundred islands in that country, and a quarter of a million miles of coastline, she said, ‘They should try harder.’ Told we had taken away half their aid money, which made it harder for them to anything, she said, ‘Go fuck yourself’, and sulked into her gin, which her yellow-gartered Malvolio, Peter Hartcher, topped up with vermouth and lemon rinds and murmured a sonnet to her crossed eyes, lovingly.

Widodo, shaking his head, said, ‘Another Australian crazy person. What do they put in the water down there?’

‘Asylum seekers,’ Jusuf Kalla quipped, and the Cabinet roared with laughter.

Some scientists declared their genetic studies had shown that Barnaby Joyce and Peter Dutton were descended from another branch of monkey than ‘Lucy’, the mother of humankind, and their thick-browed furry-knuckled ancestors had waged several wars on her and her kind. Their common tendency, to loud furies, puce faces and constipation, were shared, the experts noted, ‘with few other beings currently present on Earth, most of them, alas, in Queensland.’

And so it went.

And we will see what we shall see.

A Word To The Wise

It’s worth noting how, in the Murdoch Age, the only political tactic that reliably works is the smear of criminality.

Peter Slipper was said to have sexually harassed, in the office, a male staffer, and he lost his seat. Craig Thomson was said to have spent half a million stolen dollars on whores, and he lost his seat. Mike Rann was said to have sexually used a waitress and lost, sixteen months later, the Premiership. Don Dunstan was accused, in a memoir, of homosexual favouritism, broke down, and left office.

Turnbull wrongly accused Swan and Rudd of corruptly using a second-hand ute and lost office in the backwash of his mistake, after Godwin Grech was found to have forged an email.

And it has taken Labor a while to realise there are votes in the same sort of smear. In the criminality of Abbott, a defender of paedophiles, and of Morrison, an assister of murderers, and, yes, Dutton, whose agents had peeked at Hanson Young in the shower, and, yes, paid money to people smugglers to send fugitive people in leaky boats to Indonesia, which did not want them.

Criminality is a ripe and foetid pool of disgusting Liberal tendency. Abbott’s friendship with Pell, the Rolf Harris of the Curia. Hockey’s crooked arrangements with his landlady/wife. Pyne’s two ‘dates’ with Ashby. Brough’s framing of Slipper. Brandis’s hateful pursuit of Triggs for doing her job, and his attempt to bribe her into another. His kindly response to Monis, the mass murderer. Abbott’s abandonment of his pregnant bride. And so on. A smear a week will be useful to the cause.

The Greens have been doing it for a while. They have mentioned the children Morrison and Dutton let be buggered on Nauru. They have mourned Reza Barati, and cursed his twelve murderers, still at large, and the Minister, Morrison, who let them go. They have noted the tortured children, and the women bullied into abortions, on Christmas Island. They have said traumatising children isn’t fair.

And the Liberal vote is going south because of this. Because the Greens have plugged away, correctly, at the Liberals’ criminality.

It’s worth noting, comrades, that the obvious works.

And we will see what we shall see.

Today’s Newspoll

Like other Newspolls this one bases its preference flow on the 2013 election, when PUP favoured the Liberals, and what might be called the ‘Windsor Independents’ were more likely to, and when it was believed that Abbott would not harm SBS, the ABC, NDIS, Gonski, health care, schools and universities, or book us into another war in Iraq.

Like other Newspolls it rings only landlines on those nights — Friday, Saturday, Sunday — when few young people are at home. It does these things deliberately so as to enlarge the Coalition’s vote and please its employer, Murdoch, not ringing mobiles, ever, or texting them, as Morgan does, Morgan which always gets it right.

Even with these tricks, though, it can get the Coalition to 48 percent, two party preferred, where it loses thirty or thirty-two seats and government. The actual figure is 54.

The second scoreboard, showing preferred Prime Minister, Abbott 41, Shorten 37, is a lie. It claims 22 percent, that is three million people, are ‘undecided’ between them. It is impossible this should be so.

These figures constitute, as usual, a gaolable fraud, and I wearily ask the authorities to make the necessary arrests.

The Thirty-One Worst Things The Liberals Did Yesterday (265)

Abbott, lying, denied he had tried to introduce fascism and had been voted down by Cabinet. Julie Bishop, his Deputy, said they’d had a ‘robust discussion’ about it, thus contradicting him and unsubtly signalling she would try soon to overthrow him. Abbott’s sister Christine told a roaring crowd she was overjoyed that a ‘conservative government’ would bring in gay marriage by Christmas. This was the same conservative government which had abolished it two Christmases before, annulling five hundred marriages in the ACT in the first days of their honeymoon.

The Abbott government signalled they would join any US war against China, which should stop building islands in oceans to the south of that country. This encouraged its billionaires to continue buying up Sydney, whose house prices were now unaffordable to any couple not already millionaires.

Shorten asked that a Liberal co-sponsor his Gay Marriage bill, and it was thought one would, and be expelled from his party for having done so. Abbott believed a ‘committee of enquiry’ into such a bill, taking several months, would suffice. The nation by contrast believed a million gay marriages, like that of John Challis, 87, and not feeling well, and his partner, 83, should happen in days.

It was thought Abbott should apologise to the five hundred gays whose marriages he had annulled eighteen months ago, but he thought he shouldn’t, a crime is a crime is a crime, not realising this was terminal to his leadership. The very word ‘leadership’, when added to his name, seemed, now, an empty laughable derisory concept meaningless in the present context. He said he had more important things on his plate than the marital happiness of two million Australians and their four million relatives and six million friends. He had Pyne’s hundred thousand dollar degrees to get through, for instance, and the sacking of ten thouand more public servants, and, oh yes, the ending of the Australian citizenship of a hundred repentant teenagers, but not that of, say, Martin Bryant. He had his priorities right.

The Liberals’ figures in Newspoll plummetted, and Murdoch announced he wasn’t using Newspoll any more, and Ipsos’s dark satanic machines rang a hundred thousand octogenarians round midnight and would publish soon a ‘counterintuitive’ poll naming Abbott as preferred Prime Minister. There was almost nobody who had not voted for Menzies who preferred him, but Murdoch was one of these, and so the figures were cooked, and so it went.

The Pope’s Commissioner called George Pell, Abbott’s Confessor, ‘a sociopath’. His catalogue of ‘denigrating people, acting with callousness, cold-heartedness and lack of care’ confirmed this, the Pope’s man, Peter Saunders, himself an abuse survivor, concluded. He was ‘making a mockery of the Pope himself,’ he added, mildly, ‘and the victims, and the survivors.’ Abbott said he would continue confessing to him since it was ‘very, very clear that it is very, very safe to do so.’ Saunders said Pell should be moved, as Ridsdale frequently was in times past, out of his present position, cooking the Vatican’s books, and put in the stocks and pelted with horse-dung in Australia. Asked if his citizenship should be revoked, the Pope’s man said, ‘No, because no other country would take him.’

Pell said he might sue the Pope’s man Saunders and keep trousering the Pope’s gold while he did so. It was unlikely, Saunders emphasised, that Pell did not know what his roommate Ridsdale was up to or what Ridsdale was so often moved for, after Pell and other priests decided where it was he should go next in quest of small, whimpering prey. And once again it was it was wondered what Pell told Abbott in the twenty-five years of their friendship over the odd Guinness in the Steyne. Did Ridsdale come up? Or only the Sydney Swans? Or the murder perhaps of John Paul 1? Abbott refused to say, since ‘the secrets of the Confessional are sacred’, and Pell was his Confessor.

Shorten gave a Gettysburg-standard address in favour of gay marriage in a chamber devoid of Liberals. The Fascist Option, once more, had prevailed in the Abbott Ministry: you put your fingers in your ears and say la, la, la, or you speak in tongues, and you de-fund The Conversation, and threaten the ABC, and it will all go away.

Showing further signs of dementia pugilistica, Abbott shouted, ‘I love it when house prices go up!’ and thrust his fist in the air. PVO gave him the ‘wooden spoon’ for this fit of lunacy. Sydney house prices, now the highest in the history of the world, were ruining the economy, bankers agreed, devastating millions of lives and ensuring tens of millions would not be born and here was Abbott, goofily smiling about this.

And planning to knight George Pell on the Queen’s Birthday.

And so concluded another day of the worst free-elected government in human history since the invention of democracy, in its present form, in Iceland in AD 934.

The Twenty-Five Worst Things The Liberals Did Yesterday (254)

Hockey called ‘scammers’ those employers who had taken him at his word, and refused their underlings maternity leave pay because they could not now, Joe said, like ‘rorters’ double-dip, like ‘fraudsters’ double-dip; and they were ‘scammers’ if they believed him when he said they couldn’t. ‘Why would they believe me?’ he whined. ‘I never do.’ He thus wound up to one hundred percent the numbers of people insulted by his, and Morrison’s, ‘war on breastfeeding’.

Galaxy, a Murdoch facility, said the Liberals’ votes had gone up, and the nation rocked with laughter. Dutton saw the boats had not stopped, and eight thousand refugees, including women and children, were starving and thirsting to death on boats that had been ‘turned round’, in the popular Australian way. Obama demanded he take them in. He imagined his trial at The Hague for procuring the needless deaths of hundreds of children, and covered his long dim face with his hands.

Shorten offered to discuss with Abbott ways of bringing taxes down. Abbott, haggard, said this was impossible, it was not his bag, ‘it’s not what I do’, he was about problems, not solutions, and it was ‘a dirty trick’ of Shorten to have suggested it. The Murdoch press said the Budget, which would leave, in a while, most families six thousand dollars a year worse off, was ‘greeted by cheering, champagne-popping crowds overjoyed by its generosity and fiscal wisdom’, and had ‘turned the corner’ for Tony Abbott, now ‘as popular as Charles De Gaulle on VE Day’. The cross-bench of the Senate said they wouldn’t pass any of it.

John Ellis, a Liberal voter, was arrested for flashing, and it was thought his employer Malcolm Turnbull would not now as a consequence be Prime Minister, as if one thing prefigured another. Barnaby Joyce seized Johnny Depp’s two dogs, and flung them on to an aeroplane crying, ‘Bugger off to California!’ amid international awe and amazement and ridicule. It was thought someone had ‘fucked up his medication’. The odds on him being National Party leader, ever, and Deputy Prime Minister, ever, climbed to eight hundred to one.

Janet Albrechtsen, a Liberal voter, praised S&M for having ‘fixed up the biggest policy failure this country has seen. Under Labor 50,000 people arrived by boat in six years, and now, thanks to Morrison, eight thousand — in only one week — have been marooned at sea, a Morrison policy triumph.’ She said Joe Hockey had ‘no credibility’ and Morrison’s ‘upward trajectory’ from ministry to ministry was the story of the week. ‘His war on breastfeeding,’ she declared, ‘was a masterstroke.’

Peter Dutton proposed to revoke the citizenship of Matthew Gardiner, a hero of the Kurds who had been briefly at war against ISIS last year, as this proved him to be ‘an agent of terrorism’ unfit to be called an Australian. The twenty-five years he was supposed to have spent in prison for his evil activities (tending war-wounded women and children) were quietly cancelled. Fighting against ISIS, or DAISH as it is also known, was apparently popular, and Dutton hadn’t been told. He put his long dim face in his hands.

Johnny Depp spent half a million dollars flying his dogs home, two hundred Australians lost their jobs on his film, and Hollywood decided not to make films very often in Queensland any more. Barnaby acclaimed this ‘happy outcome’, calling two weeks in quarantine for the dogs an ‘unacceptable option’. Clive Palmer called him a ‘fucking idiot’ and thus secured his Gold Coast seat, which he could hold now for the rest of his life if he wanted to, and asked that ‘Barmy’ Barnaby resign from all his positions. A poll showed that if Tony Windsor stood against him, as he didn’t last time, in New England he would win with ninety percent of the primary vote. Experts asked to investigate ‘Barmy’s’ sanity said his brain had certainly shrivelled, but this was true too of most LNP voters who had spent twenty years in the sun in Queensland, the ‘barking sarmajor’ Campbell Newman being a ‘prime example’.

Eight thousand innocents continued to starve on the high seas. Regional leaders praised Scott Morrison for having ‘led the way’ to this ‘desirable policy outcome’ of a ‘watery Auschwitz’ which would, hereinafter, bear his name.

A gay couple, one of them dying, flew to New Zealand to be married. Peter Dutton said he was ‘uncertain’ that they would be let back in.

And put his long dim face in his hands.

And so it went.

A Note To Tim Blair

Tim Blair notes, correctly, that I was wrong about the UK election last week, about the Israeli election before that (faraway countries of which I know little) and the 2013 federal election. He errs when he says I got wrong the 2011 NSW election (I said Labor would lose more narrowly than it did, but I said it would lose) and claims any punter should bet the opposite of what I say.

Well, I got the Queensland election of January right, and was the only commentator in Australia to do so. I got Victoria right last year, though this was not too hard, and, astonishingly, South Australia right last year when it was said by all the pundits Labor had no chance. I got Barack Obama’s victory in 2012 right when Murdoch’s pollsters were even till midnight on election night saying he was gone. I got South Australia right in 2010, predicting a loss of one seat not two, when everyone believed Rann, much damaged by a sexual scandal, had no chance. I got Rann’s landslide in 2006 right, and his squeaker victory, with Independent help, in 2002. I got Obama’s win right in 2008, Rudd’s in 2007, Carr’s in 2003, Carr’s in 1999, Carr’s when it was believed he had no chance in 1995. I got Gallop’s right in 2001, Bracks’s in 1999, Bacon’s in 1998, Beattie’s in 1997, Burke’s in 1983, Keating’s when it was thought he had no chance in 1993. In the UK I predicted Blair in 1997, and Wilson, twice, in 1974. I got all of Hawke’s victories in 1983, 1984, 1987 and 1990, and Whitlam’s two in 1972 and 1974.

The ones I got right when no-one else in Australia did were in Victoria 1999, federally 1993, South Australia 2010, South Australia 2014, and Queensland this year.

I ask Blair what he predicted in those years.

I ask him to tell the truth.

I did get a good few wrong, of course: 1996, 1998, 2001 and 2004 when Howard won (though in 1998 he won with less votes than Beazley), 1983 when Thatcher won, 1975 and 1977 when Fraser won. I got Wran’s victories right in 1976, 1978, 1981 and 1984. I predicted Unsworth would lose, and he did.

This is twenty-four right and ten wrong. Any punter following my predictions, all of them, would have done fairly well.

I ask him to apologise and pay me thirty thousand dollars.

What a fool he is.

What a dunderhead.

The Thirty-Eight Worst Things The Liberals Did Yesterday (250)

Hockey said those parents who did not desert their suckling children and go to work overnight would be ‘severely punished.’ They would get no money from him, he said, and if they sought work and did not get any, they would get ‘not a penny’ for their pains. ‘As is well known,’ he emphasised sweatily, beaming and crossing his fat fingers, ‘child raising is a service that is of no use to the economy whatever, and the early education and breastfeeding of humans in the first years of their lives a task better suited to cheap imported wetnurses on 457s whom sinister “service providers” will now offer at a cut rate to the government, whilst the actual mothers themselves never see a penny of it.’

Various union leaders and National Senators called this measure ‘unfair’ especially to mothers in country towns where, in a shrinking population, there are few jobs going. ‘It is Joe’s form of contraception,’ Ged Kearney said. ‘He has made having children and staying home to look after them unaffordable, and reduced the taxpayer base of the next generation by a half.’

Mathias Cormann would not say how many thousand public servants he would sack, after saying he would not sack any more. ‘Let’s feece it,’ he said, speaking rapidly. ‘All mernay spint on Owstraylians is vaysted, alvise vaysted, and all mernay spint on imported Asian hookers lately poosing as underpied nennies ees mernay well spint, since the mernay zen leaves Owstraylia forever, and ve nevair zee it again. And, furzairmore, ze mernay ve vould haf given to perblic sairvants for child care when he had a job ve vill save now, since he noaw longair hez a job, and vill stay at home, cheenging neppays.’

Some pundits thought it unwise for Joe to have announced the abolition of motherhood on Mother’s Day but Credlin, whose eggs were still in Abbott’s fridge, pooh-poohed this criticism. ‘The big story is not motherhood, an already outdated concept,’ she said, ‘but who gets Joe’s job, now that my office has imposed on him a Budget even more calamitous than last year’s, which he is selling very badly.

‘Some would say Scott Morrison is a goer, but it is plain his part in the coming ruin of the economy — each family after 2017 will be four thousand dollars a year worse off — will not greatly help him; and it is likely Malcolm Turnbull, who plainly can add, and once owned a bank, will be the front runner by August; providing he is not by then, after mid-July, Prime Minister. As his former Chief-of-Staff I will be ready for this transition, and available to work for him in any job I deem suitable for one of my enormous talents. I await his phone call, to sort this out, by Wednesday morning at the latest.’

Abbott announced a half billion dollars on top of what police get now to hunt down incompetent teenagers with pipe bombs into the Children’s Court and into gaol for twenty-five years trained nurses bandaging women wounded by DAISH in Syria. ‘Terrorism must be fought,’ he insisted. ‘One person, Tori Johnson, has died at the hands of a terrorist, or what some say was a terrorist, in the last century,’ Abbott explained, ‘and that is one too many. An expenditure in the next century of forty-five billion dollars on this manifest crisis we expect will result in the arrest, or shooting, of at least one more. A small price to pay for this outcome, this consummation devoutly to be wished.’

Asked why this money, eighty cents per taxpayer per week in perpetuity, would not be better spent on on preventing domestic violence, which kills not one person a century but two women a week, Abbott said, ‘Terrorism is a global crisis, threatening western civilisation. Wife beating is just a bad habit, some would call it a human right, and government should go nowhere near it. Government has no business in the bloodied bedrooms of the nation, just as it has no business in the private dealings of my close friends the priests and choirboys. Oops, let me read that again.’ Labor backroomers read page 68 of the Duffy book and covered their faces with their hands in revulsion.

Josh Frydenberg told Fran Kelly the government had ‘reduced the deficit from the twenty seven billion Labor left us to the forty-five billion it now is.’ Fran, flushed with excitement, congratulated him on this ‘heroic achievement’, by which she may have subconsciously meant ‘big lie’.

Clive Palmer listed the fifty good things his party had done for the nation in only ten months of Senate influence and was so impressive, the way he usually is, that Tony Jones, a Liberal voter, bade him ‘shut up’.

Baird denied that he had changed a report on the poles and wires from ‘bad for the Budget’ to ‘good for the Budget’, an act of fraud for which he might go to gaol. ‘My office did that,’ he told the unforgiving Adam Searle, ‘and I was not aware of them doing it. No-one tells me anything.’ Asked if he would have agreed with this corrupt interference with the known facts, with this Big Lie, he said, ‘It is Liberal practice to so behave in this State. What is a heinous felony in other States, is a jovial colonial tradition in New South Wales. I refer you to Rake, and I rest my case.’ His big eyes welled, and he began to sniffle, ‘I will get through this. I will get through this,’ he blubbered. A field of flowers appeared miraculously behind him.

Tim Blair defamed Bob Ellis as a ‘false prophet’ for getting twenty-four predictions right and ten wrong in the past forty-three years and will have to pay him thirty thousand dollars if he is not to be abashed and shamed and publicly reviled in the Federal Court and fired by Murdoch for his blithering ignorance.

The ice was melting faster than was earlier predicted, experts noted, and Woy Woy by 2100 would be, alas, as its name implies, ‘a meeting of the waters’ again. Bjorn Lomborg, the bizarre swivel-eyed hydrophobic denier of this possiblity, was tarred and feathered out of Western Australia and his prissy hardline Gibsonite Catholic mentor Pyne unable to find a campus sufficiently tempted by his ministry’s funny money to take him in.

And so it went.

The Thirty-Two Worst Things The Liberals Did Yesterday (249)

Maurice Newman, a Liberal voter, called global warming ‘a world-wide UN-led conspiracy to embarrass our dear leader Tony Abbott, peace be unto him’, and called for a jihad against these ‘false prophets’ and their hanging, drawing and quartering in ‘public places in the appropriate cities’ lest ‘capitalism die and authoritarian Castroism engulf the planet by December, 2016.’

The University of Western Australia gave back three million intended for Pyne’s pet maddie Lomborg whom he would find, the Minister swore, ‘a university sufficiently pauperised by my previous cuts to accept him.’

Hockey, whom Abbott is planning to sack, avoided his Leader’s eyes and wriggled and sweated while announcing Budget measures that included lots of money to an auto industry he had already extinguished, money back to Aborigines already driven to suicide by its removal, and a surplus ‘sometime this century if successive Liberal governments are elected for eighty years and I as Treasurer for seventy.’

Paul Kelly, a Liberal voter, said Abbott had ‘snookered’ Shorten by agreeing with him that a fair go was better, on the whole, than universal injustice. ‘The age of entitlement is back, get used to it,’ the old fool snorted, ‘and Bill Shorten’s plan to save fourteen billion dollars by hitting seventy thousand superannuees will be very, very, nay, dare I say it, extremely unpopular. Abbott’s plan to sell Australia and let China rent it back to us has by contrast everything going for it and Shorten, wrong-footed, is doomed by his blindness to this to certain oblivion.’

Nick Cater, a Liberal voter, acclaimed as ‘a triumph for David Cameron’ an election in which 66 percent of Britain and all of Scotland had voted against him. Gerard Henderson, a Liberal voter, cursed SBS for broadcasting Struggle Street, in which white Anglo-Saxons were shown to be ‘sometimes impoverished, with drug problems, and a bush-dwelling Aborigine with an accurate slingshot resilient.’ People who lived in Darlinghurst, he said, had no right to say such things of people who lived in Mount Druitt, a full hour’s drive away from their comfortable existences. This was in contrast to Henderson, who lives in Hornsby, an hour’s drive from Darlinghurst, who had, however, ‘visited that suburb more than once, in, I think, the 1960s.’

Aborigines protested their eviction from land they had been on for forty thousand years and ‘got used to’. It was not so much a lifestyle choice, one leader said, as ‘home ground’. After forty thousand years, he added, it could even be called a ‘sacred site’ or ‘homeland’, like ‘Jerusalem is for another minority.’ Colin Barnett said he ‘must be out of his mind. He’ll be begging on the outskirts of Broome before you can say oops, ethnic cleansing.’

Abbott claimed women were an ‘underused resource. Most women could have, in a lifetime,’ he said, ‘twenty-two children. And they selfishly choose to have, on average, fewer than three. And some of them selfishly choose on top of that to stay at home breastfeeding them for as long as two months, when they could be out earning eight dollars an hour processing chickens for sale on special at Coles for eight dollars each. My Inquisitor-in-Chief Scott Morrison will deal with these heretical recalcitrants who, after he is done with them, will never breastfeed again.’

Henry Ergas, a Liberal voter, warned that the ‘politics of fairness’ might soon overwhelm Australia. ‘Such an outcome would strike at the heart of the Liberal project,’ he bayed. ‘If it prevails, and, God forbid, replaces the phrase “the politics of envy” at the heart of our resonant propaganda, the party of Menzies may never bring back WorkChoices, and we might be in deficit for centuries.’

Abbott started again to use the calumny ‘debt and deficit disaster’ to describe the best economic performance during and after the GFC by Wayne Swan, now acclaimed world wide as an economic genius. ‘If I say it was a disaster,’ he said, ‘it was a disaster. Just think disaster.’

Morrison said he would give most pensioners fifteen more dollars a week but only if he could throw young fathers off the dole for six months after Woolworths unjustly sacked them. ‘The money’s got to come from somewhere,’ he said, ‘and if you think it’s coming from tax-dodging multinationals like Rupert Murdoch, or from greedy cows like Gina Rinehart, who gas-guzzles two million dollars an hour, and spends it on suing her blood relatives, you’ve got another think coming.’

Dennis Shanahan, a Liberal voter, said the Abbott government ‘blew its first chance at the Budget’ and in this one ‘must get the balancing act right’ or face obliteration.

A seventeen-year-old was charged in the Children’s Court with terrorism after seeming to have planned with a pipe bomb to blow up his mother, whom he disliked, on Mother’s Day. He had no links with DAISH, and was culturally more similar, in some views, to the Loaded Dog, or Bart Simpson perhaps, but Abbott thought he symbolised a clear and imminent danger to world civilisation, and might be worth, might just be worth, a Chicken Little Double Dissolution in July.

And so it went.

Damn You, England: A Retrospect

It turns out the polls were right — Labour and the Tories both got 34 percent — though Miliband won a hundred fewer seats than Cameron. Which means that all polling, when there are four big parties and a first-past-the-post system, is useless. With a preferential voting system Labour would have won five hundred seats; and every election since 1945.

That being said, it is worth saying also that the number of untracctive characteristrics in Miliband was one too many. He had an odd, strangled voice; an ugly mouth; big brown eyes too close together; a tendency to shout; a skin tone like a Pakistani’s which he emphasised with plain white shirts; and he was intense in personality and seemed humourless.

It may well be the mouth that was the killer. He looked like something close to a disabled person, in recovery. He was not like his brother, or Blair, or Wilson, ‘cool’. He had Brown’s intensity, but not his lovely voice. And his mouth twisted up when he spoke.

It was one off-putting quality too many, probably; like Robbo in New South Wales, who is small, headshaven, hot-eyed and feverish, with an ugly, gritty Westie accent. He both looked and sounded like a gangster.

The consequence of Thursday will be the end of Britain, probably. Scotland, Wales, Northern Island, Yorkshire and the Channel Islands will leave now, pribably, in the next twenty years, and join the EU as separate countries. Scotland will become a model small country like Denmark, and an ideal social democracy. And that will be that.

It’s also worth saying that Labour would be in government today if Murdoch had not for the past three years published ugly photos of Miliband, as he did ugly photos of Luke Foley, and Keating, and Foot, and Whitlam. In a democracy, stupid people respond to these things.

And it’s a pity.

Free Market Slavery

(First published by Independent Australia)

Last night’s Four Corners, which showed the sexual harassment, long hours, poor accommodation, starvation wages and unlawful exploitation of young Asian men and women on ‘working holidays’ in this country, showed, as well, Coles and Woolworths involved — at arm’s length — in this form of slavery and their CEOs guilty, probably, of gaolable offences and many, many ‘service providers’, whose companies were named, liable for immediate imprisonment.

Yet no headlines about this featured in Fairfax and Murdoch, where Coles and Woolworths (ah, yes) advertise. No fat-cat exploiters of human misery were named. One sexual harasser, Sam, was nicknamed, pictured and accused yet remains at large. No-one of significance agreed to be interviewed by Kerry O’Brien. Why would they?

It may be that Labor governments in South Australia, Queensland and Victoria will rectify this, and arrests and show-trials and subsequent headlines gratify the fans of A Current Affair for a year or so. It is also possible nothing will happen. Like women harassed and raped on Nauru, and children buggered in that jurisdiction, the victims are mainly Asian, and may unlike Chan and Sukumaran fall ‘beneath the radar’. And the exploitation will continue.

It is worth noting that this method of finding cheap workers, ‘outsourcing’ recruitment and contracts to the shadowy ‘service providers’ who lawlessly skim off a third of the already penurious wages lawlessly underpaid — some workers take home as little as eight dollars an hour — has implications in Morrison’s ‘new deal’ of nannies for the children of shiftworking mothers.

The money will be ‘paid directly’ to the ‘service provider’, not the mother or the nanny, and the nannies, mostly imported Asians, not all of them legal you may be sure, will be ripped off, I would think, in a similar way.

Is the Liberal Party involved in this racket? Was the 457 legislation passed for no other reason? Are they already on the take from these outsourced felonies of Coles and Woolworths? What kickback does Coles or Woolworths or, yes, Aldi’s, give them under the counter?

And are they on the take from the ‘service providers’ of Nauru and Manus also? Is this why no arrests have occurred of the murderers of Reza Barati? Did Morrison, when Minister for Immigration, make money in this way? Is he making more from the imported Asian nanny racket he will pass, in the next few weeks, into law?

All over the world this is going on. The CEOs of the private armies which are called ‘security providers’ get millions up front for the young men they send into lethal danger in Iraq, Afghanistan and Syria. ‘Service providers’ whose wet-back slaves work in US slaughterhouses get similar millions upfront from Walmart and the grocery chains to whom they supply, in return, cheap sausages.

It should come as no surprise that the ‘global free market’s’ basic product, slaves, are at work day and night in the blood-sluiced factories, the animal killing fields, of rural Australia, and Coles and Woolworths are daily supplying cheap fruit, sausages, vegetables, cheese and biscuits to grateful exploited suburbanites and youth unemployment is now nearing — because of the flown-in Asian ‘competition’ — thirty percent.

What do we do about this?

Gaoling some CEOs might be a clear, declarative first move.

I urge some state governments — the ‘cleanskin’ Baird’s might be one of them — to begin the good work.

Goodbye Newspoll

It is possible my repeated threats that O’Shannessy would go to gaol very soon has caused his employer, Murdoch, to ditch his company, Newspoll, and replace it with David Briggs’s Galaxy.

I pointed out for many, many months that redistributing preferences as they were in 2013, when PUP still favoured the Coalition, and some ‘Windsor Independents’ had not yet become disgusted with Abbott’s ongoing ramshackle mendacity, and not ringing mobiles though half of all young voters used nothing else, was criminally deceptive.

This, plus absurd ‘Abbott on the way back’ and ‘surge to Abbott’ headlines when he was most damaged, and getting Queensland wrong, ensured, in time, the poor craven sell-out O’Shannessy’s walking of the plank last week, and his probable professional extinction.

Galaxy must now tell the same lies. This is if, of course, Murdoch himself survives; and his tottering transmillennial media juggernaut is not stopped in its tracks by Prime Minister Miliband who is sworn to end his adventure with extreme prejudice, and put the shrivelled, panty-sniffing tyrant and his tawny, tumbling-haired floozy Rebekah in durance vile.

Galaxy will not ring mobiles. It will not ask electors, as Morgan does, what parties are currently their second preferences but merely recall what they, and their like, preferred two years ago. It will continue to ring only landlines when only the elderly, the ill and the mad are at home and twist the vote Abbott’s way as Newspoll, the very last Newspoll, did this morning.

Morgan, accurately, showed Labor on 53.4 and the Lib-Nats losing office in any imminent election; Newspoll showed Labor on 52 but Abbott now equal with Shorten as Preferred Prime Minister in the week when he failed to prevent two Australians from being shot in the chest after failing to get through to a neighbouring Prime Minister for nine weeks and plead for their lives. This outcome had been a ‘positive’ for him, Newspoll asserted, as was his acclamation at Gallipoli of the biggest calamity in our history as ‘showing what Aussies are made of’ before Prince Charles with eloquent quietude made vivid the tragic end, in millions, of unfinished lives and crushed his midget railing under his boot.

It is likely we will see soon the end of the Murdoch operation. It is certain that Newspoll has gone before it. It is probable that Galaxy will be exploded, and Briggs resign, before year’s end.

And we will see what we shsll see.

The Twenty-Eight Worst Things The Liberals Did Yesterday (247)

Phillip Ruddock, a Liberal voter, said he was against capital punishment anywhere in the world, but made no mention of Zhu Qingping, whose male child he had helped judicially murder when he sent her back to an enforced abortion in her ninth month in China though she begged him in tears to be allowed to ‘have him here, and go home without him’. He did this amid worldwide revulsion in 1999; ‘another millennium,’ he beamed, serenely, ‘a long, long time ago.’ He had since had a change of heart, he boasted, and was against judicial murder now, though not of full-grown babies, which was a ‘human right’, of unelected bureaucrats opposed to further motherhood in a crowded country whatever impertinent big-bellied females thought. Or even uncrowded countries like Australia. He called it ‘the right to death’.

Abbott swore there would be no early election, with the same vehemence with which had sworn, before the last one, there would be no cuts to health, education, NDIS, SBS or the ABC, and it seemed to most observers including the prescient swamp toad Laurie Oakes, co-assassin with Murdoch of Gough Whitlam — and with Rudd of Julia Gillard — there would be.

It was revealed that Defence had told Abbott that our next bunch of submarines should be built in South Australia, with either Australians or Europeans ‘leading the design’. Japan was not mentioned; and Abbott’s handshake deal with ‘our traditional beheaders, the Japanese’ was thought by some aged cranky admirals a ‘risky proposition’ when ‘we recall what they did with our pig iron last time’. Abbott, fearing for his leadership, later eschewed the infamous secret Abe handshake, but left Japan on the list of preferred builders, and excluded the Swedes who had made the best offer: twenty billion, built here.

The Productivity Commission proposed to let in only those migrants, regardless of their skills, who paid great wadges of money to come here. ‘We will choose who comes here,’ the haggard, maddened Minister Dutton hoarsely shrieked, ‘and the bribe we will accept for their admission to our country.’

It was thought fifty thousand, or a quarter of a million for a couple with three children, was a good minimum charge, that is, ten or twelve times what refugees paid people smugglers back when the going was good. Asked if this price range advantaged Asian gangsters, Dutton said, ‘Of course. Have we ever favoured any other kind?’ It would allow especially, he added proudly, Asian property developers to continue their demolition of our economy, in the sly guise of Australian citizens, unhindered.

A Chinese-funded coal mine, it was revealed, would ‘extinguish the koala’ and Baird was persuaded to ‘expedite its implementation’ since ‘these vermin had evaded ethnic cleansing long enough’ and they ‘held up development’ and, worse, attracted the sympathies of the closet Green oaf Luke Foley, who wanted reserves for them. Baird promised monthly koala massacres to the Shooters’ Party, whose vote he needed, and put his face in his hands.

Headines in the UK Polling Report said Australia would be in recession soon, and would lose its triple-A rating. Deloitte Access Economics compared to Edvard Munch’s ‘The Scream’ Joe Hockey’s new deficit, 59.5 billion, which compared with his last one, 45.9 billion, and with Swan’s last one, 27 billion. ‘High house prices,’ they reported, ‘thanks to Chinese property developers, will improve the figures mightily, though they will ruin the lives of, oh, three million Australians, perhaps no more than that.’

Morrison proposed that he would pay good money to ‘keep mothers away from their babies’.  His new system, he vigorously explained, was ‘not welfare, not a pension, it was an encouragement for young lactating women to go out at night and work, in the sex industry if need be, if that employment were nearby available and the young mums sufficiently  good looking.’

The money he was planning to slosh around would go direct not to them, he explained, but to millionaire CEOs of ‘child care providers’ who imported cheap Thai women for ‘other activities, initially’ and later, when they were ‘played out’, in their mid-twenties, as drab, slack, whining baby minders. This would ‘undercut and ruin,’ he said proudly, ‘qualified Australian female university students who charge too much and who might, in some cases, not belong to Hillsong.’

The money he would find for this, he said, would be deducted from Child Care Rebates and would henceforth ensure that the average family, once the Schoolkids’ Money was cancelled in 2016, would be ‘ten thousand dollars per annum worse off’. Asked if the children thus cared for would be indoctrinated in the beliefs of Hillsong, S&M said ‘No comment’, then began to speak in tongues, evasively.

Fran Kelly, a Liberal voter, breezily predicted that the British Prime Minister, David Cameron, would win on Thursday now the Labour vote in Scotland had collapsed and the SNP would win all fifty-nine seats in that small, stroppy country. A thick-vowelled Glaswegian averred she was an ‘eedjut’, and there was ‘noa wee’ the Scots would abeed a Cameron government for one munnutt longer and they would have the deceeding votes, but she cut him off saying, ‘It sounds like true chaos over there then’, and went to the next item in feverish denial, the way she does, breathing heavily. Polling Report predicted Labour with 300 seats, the Tories with 250.

Sophie Mirabella, a Liberal voter, said Scott Morrison should be Prime Minister soon, since a tongue-speaking blame-shucking pirate and torturer of children who had lately morphed into whoremastering and punishing grandmothers for minding their daughters’ children was ‘just what modern Australia needed’. Abbott, thus besieged by ingrates, defiantly thanked Kate Middleton for having a baby and sobbed attractively while doing so. He then lay down and thought of England.

A cunning plan ripened in his battered and shrivelling brain: to appoint himself to the House of Lords, and Credlin to the Cinque Ports, and move with her back to perfidious Albion, his birth country, by the September equinox, live in a barge on the Thames and jog around Westminster in the brisk autumn dawn.

And so it went.

The Eighteen Worst Things The Liberals Did Yesterday (244)

Abbott gave five million dollars, enough to buy Malcolm Turnbull’s back yard, to the earthquake-shattered country of Nepal, and a hundred million dollars to a new museum acclaiming dead Australians in France. ‘Though that sum would have saved a thousand Nepalese lives, ‘ he said, gamely, ‘it were better it go to our glorious dead, who do not complain in letters to the editor or tweets or insolent videos that it wasn’t enough, and they wanted more.’ Asked if the money would have been better spent on disabled children, or child care, or old people in nursing homes with special needs, or dogs for those old people, or a cure for diabetes or Alzheimer’s, he said, ‘Are you kidding? Did they die for their country at eighteen in a war nobody could make any sense of? Get your priorities right, son, or you’ll never get an Australia Day knighthood from me.’ A recipient of one such knighthood, ‘Sir’ Peter Cosgrove, wondered if he should sack him now, or after the Budget, which was already zilching.

Joe Hockey said the Budget was nothing to worry about. ‘Though it will lose us our triple-A rating, it will bring us into surplus, I assure you, or the neighbourhood of surplus, by 2050,’ he said, ‘when I will still be Treasurer, and aged eighty-five, and Wyatt Roy Prime Minister aged fifty. Sixty, sorry, I always have trouble with my figures.’

Bryan Brown, Geoffrey Rush, Brendan Cowell, Deborah Mailman, Guy Pearce and some other eminent actors urged Abbott in a video to fly to Indonesia, face down Widodo and ‘bring our boys home’. Abbott said this would be ‘counterproductive’ as he might be successful, but he would come home with thirty thousand boat people also; that, or Widodo, in a warlike fury, would deliver that number of boat people to Broome or Darwin by battleship, guns blazing, and leave us in a ‘bureaucratic and diplomatic difficulty’.

‘Better our boys face execution by firing squad,’ he added, ‘with no religious person present, as my close friend Joko has wisely decreed. Neither after all is Catholic, and both will go to Hell, and it would be pointless to give them any hope before that moment of sudden posthumous discovery.’ The contemptuous movie stars said Abbott lacked ‘ticker’ and unlike two hundred Australian DAISH recruits, was a ‘yellow belly’ or a ‘banana-spined dingo’ or an ‘arse-creeping Jesuit weak tosser’, since he would not like a true Anzac go overseas and fight for what he believed in; not even a consummate, uncontracepted wedding night for Andrew Chan.

Julie Bishop defended him, saying, ‘Look, it was for his Chicken Little qualities that we elected him leader. His purpose, as we saw it back then, was to create fear and international panic in the coming years unremittingly, to the point where I or Scott Morrison manfully step in, denounce him as a “jellyback” and in a bloodless coup replace him.’ Asked if that dread day had now arrived, she said, ‘Call me Tuesday.’

‘Two hundred and fifty million dollars,’ Morrison said, ‘that is, five dollars per taxpayer per year, will be spent hiring after-hours nannies for ten thousand white Christian shiftworkers, white Hillsong shiftworkers preferably, and on no black, Muslim, hippy, atheist, unmarried or homosexual parents whatever.’ He wiped a small patch of white foam from the corner of his mouth. ‘Those that already have grandmothers doing the work will get no money at all. And those heathen mothers on TPVs, of course, will not only get nothing at all, they will be forbidden to work as nannies in Australia to provide their own children with food and shelter, as God intends for those lesser breeds without the law who will be, if I have anything to do with it, the white man’s burden no longer.’

He was hailed by David Speers as ‘a Solomon! A Solomon come to judgment!’; and then, wiping his mouth once more, he added, ‘Of course, this is only for eighteen months; until the next election; after which the present system of free-market soiled-nappy-changing female enslavement will happily return. There are those who think women at present unemployed and weeping in post-abortion bereavement on Nauru should be let into Australia and become cheap nannies in that large, needy country, but this of course is laughable, and you have another think coming, sunshine, if you are one of them. They will never live in Australia. THEY WILL NEVER LIVE IN AUSTRALIA, OR WORK HERE!’ He began then to speak in tongues, and was assisted from the room, and, as the saying is, ‘settled down’.

Alan Jones, a Liberal voter, urged that Lawrence Springborg, a Liberal voter, be arrested as a common criminal and cast out of Queensland parliament for having released, today, illegally, details of Billy Gordon’s private life and having recommended his vote be disregarded and his electors thus disfranchised. ‘This loathesome crony of Big Mining should himself have resigned his parliamentary seat by close of business this afternoon,’ Jones said with feline asperity. And Murdoch, his employer, let him say it.

And so it went.

A Gallipoli Footnote

There’s been no ‘death cult’ like this Anzac nonsense in our national history.

We are told our young men ‘came of age’ on that fatal shore (no; they died; they died; they simply died); we are told they ‘made a sacrifice’ (no; Hamilton sacrificed them, as Abraham nearly did Isaac, to salve his crazed, embittered pride); we are told they ‘did not die in vain’ (they did; they did; no good came of it, no good at all).

It’s worse than that, though. Winston’s ‘thought bubble’ was a sound one; and had the attack been more sudden, and better timed and organised, and not foreboded by days of bombardment, it would have shortened the war by three years, prevented Soviet Communism, Hitler, Stalin, Franco, World War Two, the Cold War and the Arms Race, and saved, and enlarged, and enriched, a hundred million lives.

And we’re supposed to celebrate this debacle, this holocaust of good young men. Because our efforts, and the genius of Monash, drove the cousin of King George V, a grandson of Queen Victoria, out of France and Belgium? Really?

Germany had a social system better than England’s, and would have been worth trying on. And twenty million died to save us from it. And this was a good thing, we are told.

No, it wasn’t.

The war also interrupted the Australian Experiment, which had led the world for ten years, and it never recovered its momentum, its first, fine careless rapture. Scandinavia then led the world, and we didn’t. We got some of that rapture back under Whitlam, but Fraser, Kerr, world Thatcherism, and then world Reaganism, egged on by Murdoch, and then by Hawke, Dawkins, Button, Keating, Costello, Howard, Hockey and Abbott, resurrected capitalist cruelty; and here we are.

And it’s a pity.

The Anzac Death Cult has been exposed, this year, by many books and essays and documentaries and the fine miniseries Deadline Gallipoli, on again tonight on the History Channel, for what it is, a kind of disease of the brain.

And we should be done with it, now and forever.


Our Men At The Front: Beattie, Grant, Perske, Shortland And Rymer’s Deadline Gallipoli

Whatever its ratings, Deadline Gallipoli surpassed all rival Great War dramatisations — apart from Beneath Hill 60 — and prevailed, on screen, as retrieved history like no other.

It recounts how the correspondents Charles Bean, Ellis Ashmead-Bartlett, Phillip Schuler and Keith Murdoch experienced that campaign, and how army censorship, and the demented commanding general, Sir Ian Hamilton, stopped them reporting how it was; and how, in their various ways, they got around this, and saved a lot of lives, after watching tens of thousands die in vain.

The opening sequence, with Bean (Joel Jackson) splashing ashore and trudging knock-kneed up the beach and men falling brainsplattered around him, is as good as the first minutes of Saving Private Ryan. Other battle sequences rival those in Lincoln and The Water Diviner, and contrasts abound. We see the luxurious on-board quarters of Hamilton  (Charles Dance); an embassy ball in Cairo, a croquet lawn in the Home Counties, the conference room in Whitehall of Kitchener (John Bell), and various London gatherings where a gently-spoken Winston Churchill (Simon Maiden) is present, and Jack his brother, a serving officer (Charles Mayer), and Jack’s wife whom Ashmead-Bartlett is shamelessly tupping. Most telling in its way is the tent in Lemnos in which the correspondents, rowed back daily from the front, drink toasts in champagne and lie about women, as correspondents do, while Bean sits apart, appalled at how things are going, and scribbling shorthand notes he will save till after, if he lives.

Sam Worthington is very, very good as Schuler, a guilt-struck war photographer who fakes many photos and eventually joins up, in self-disgust, as an ambulance driver in France; and woos and beds a nurse he knows he soon must leave among the mounting and screaming carnage, doing her job; Bryan Brown very fine as Bill Bridges, an Australian general dying of gangrene and yearning to see Paris just once and asking Schuler what it is like. Joel Jackson has a wonderful lanky awkward aspergers-syndrome knowing innocence as the silent, ever-simmering Bean, a bit like Henry Fonda’s young Abe Lincoln. John Bell is superb as Kitchener, his face a reddening mask of authoritarian rage, like the poster, ‘England Needs You’, his moustache forever, by the look of it, quivering. Ten other actors, four of them female, whose names I cannot easily uncover, do excellent work of similar stirring quality.

Best, though, is Charles Dance, probably, who gives us both Hamilton’s madness and his gentleness, his good manners and his tenderness and his red-rimmed, nightmare-swollen eyes. Though the cause of tens of thousands of needless deaths, we feel for the agony he is in. Promoted above his abilities, he cannot admit a mistake. He must push on, push on to the end. The aren’t enough bullets? There isn’t enough water? Don’t trouble me with details, man, push on. He lived, thus haunted, and thus derided and shunned, until he was ninety-four.

Ewen Leslie gives us a Keith Murdoch as he must have been: opportunistic, headline-hungry, determined to use his mere forty-eight hours in the beach to change the course of the war, and history. Like his son Rupert he is an envelope-pusher; he risks being shot for treason and gets, willy-nilly, after hairsbreadth escapes, the information out, and wears with a smooth reactive sneer the defamation ‘colonial’, untroubled by it: he is proud to be one, and a shaper of our national future, Down Under.

Hugh Dancy as Ashmead-Bartlett gives us an intricate, wily, brandy-toping rogue and ‘cad’, as they used to be called; like Waugh’s Basil Seal with a whiff of Errol Flynn and Flashman. He lies about what he has witnessed, romanticising the filth and waste and carnage as required by the army censor; he pilfer’s Bean’s notes and, for a time, Jack Churchill’s wife while helping ruin Winston; he thieves drink and money and he saves, yes, many lives. He ends up, as many heroes do, unemployable and shambolic, improvising a patched and ragged life post-war on the lecture circuit, drinking heavily, as always, and always insecure. Many another champagne-quaffing Australian adventurer has been like him, and ended as badly. George Johnston was one; John Meillon; Ron Saw.

The script, by Stuart Beattie, Shaun Grant, Jacqueline Perske and Cate Shortland, is witty, brisk, informative and, from where I sit, as a rival screenwriter, unimprovable. The direction by Michael Rymer as good as Joe Wright’s in Atonement. The art direction, by Kate Rawlins, Joey Charlton and Kane McKay, is perfection; and the transformation, in part by the lighting cameraman xxx, of various beaches, hills and houses of South Australia into London, Lemnos and the snow-swirling Dardanelles, is everywhere breathtaking. A couple of coastal sunsets with grey clouds and human silhouettes will imprint themselves, in time, on our race memory.

And the story makes nonsense, of course, of everything Abbott said yesterday, on the spot. Our troops did not show their best qualities in those trenches and on those boats and cliffs at all. Their ongoing craven compliance with Hamilton’s blithering incompetence (there were no greatcoats when the snows came, and hundreds froze to death; there was insufficient clean water to drink, there weren’t enough bullets, for fuck’s sake) looks in retrospect like a Nuremberg war crime. They should have shot him, and his timid, fawning staff officers, and taken over his boat and sailed south, and wrenched Australia out of the British Empire, as we nearly did after the Bodyline tests, after only a couple of months of the initial blood-stained putrid farce. They should have done their duty to their country, not Sir Ian Hamilton.

We lost our Better Australia on that beach, and we never got it back. We lost to grief, madness, berevement, mutilation, lonely suicide, flu and muddy death half a million promising young lives and there will never be adequate an Apology, recompense or atonement for that.

It is a wonderful, wonderful miniseries I have seen twice now, and I urge it on you.

The Twenty-Eight Worst Things The Liberals Did Yesterday (235)

Brandis considered gaoling for twenty-five years Matthew Gardiner, a Labor voter, for fighting on the right side in Syria — twice as long, that is, as one gets for raping, torturing and killing a child — while simultaneously pleading that two drug dealers, Chan and Sukumaran, go free. In a similar moral confusion Dutton allowed Saeed Hassanloo, an Iranian refugee, to starve himself to death, for the heinous crime of wanting not to be persecuted in Teheran, and craving instead a good life in a free country, Australia. ‘He should have been dead two days ago,’ a doctor said. ‘The damage may be irreparable now.’

Newspoll showed Abbott as popular as leprosy in Western Australia, as AIDS in South Australia, and as ebola throughout the larger Commonwealth. In the wake of his party’s win in New South Wales it seemed he was looking at, probably, a loss of sixty seats if the 55 percent Newspoll gave Labor was adjusted upward to include mobile phone owners to 56.5. This would ensure the extinction of the Liberal Party within five years.

Rupert Murdoch, a Liberal voter, was shown to have stolen 2.25 billion from the Australian taxpayer in the past ten years. This would keep two hundred small theatre companies going for a thousand years on the interest alone.

The smh in its editorial cursed the Abbott government for refusing any money to the survivors of child abuse. This contrasted to the three billion given by Ireland, a smaller country, to its buggered choirboys and incestuously ravished farm girls. Calculated at the same rate, it was shown Abbott owed 4.3 billion he was not paying up, for fear perhaps he would be called as a witness of certain events on page 68 of his biography by Duffy.

The dying Hassanloo in grief took food and saved, for the moment, some last few meagre shreds of his one life on earth after Dutton cruelly moved his brother and carer two thousand miles from his death bed side. His advocates grudgingly noted he was now a Christian and a convert like the mad Scott Morrison to Hillsong, and he feared worse persecution for that in what Abbott once called ‘the Axis of Evil’ and had shown pretty clearly he would rather die than go there. Dutton told Fran Kelly, ‘We send back Christians to their deaths also now, in what you must agree is a fair-go, equitable, Aussie way. We are not prejudiced whom we kill after we decide who comes here, and the circumstsnces in which they come. And if they choose to kill themselves here, well, that’s their decision.’

He sent back sixty children to Nauru, a country the size of Glebe now known to be thronged with child rapists who had not been, thus far, arrested or questioned though it was well known who they were. He boasted that these lucky children would not be any more ‘imprisoned’ on Nauru, but ‘at liberty’ very soon in those few acres where the scum they had accused of assaulting them might lurk, and then come after them and kill them, and their mothers, raping them before they did so.

Fran asked him if he would send them back before the island was safe to be on, and he warmly, then sadly, then hysterically said he would, of course he would. He seemed for a moment in doubt but insisted, through tears, that by thus endangering blameless children he was assuring ‘the Australian way’. Shaking with mirth, James Carleton made him a cup of tea. Across the world Julie Bishop’s new application to be a member again of the Security Council was greeted with derisive laughter. ‘They are savages, these Australians,’ murmured Ban ki Moon, wiping his eyes, and falling into laughter again. ‘They have not even sacked from their employment the twelve men, some of them white Queenslanders, who murdered Reza Barati. Talk about laugh.’

George Williams, an expert on immigration law, told Alison Carabine a man who rescued his mother from an ISIS-held city in Iraq or Syria would be gaoled if he brought her here for twenty-five years and she would be ‘settled’ on Nauru until her death in forty years’ time and not be allowed to see her son, the hero, again. This, he also noted, was ‘the Australian way’.

Talk about laugh.

George Brandis said the matter of Matthew Gardiner was ‘in the hands of the Darwin police’ and he could not, would not, must not, dare not, could not possibly comment. He implied he might seek to commute his twenty-five year sentence for fighting on the same side as our Diggers against the ‘death cult’ DAISH, to, say, twenty-three years. Or even twenty-two.

And so it went.

What Happened In New South Wales

Some thoughts about last night, which I will add to as they come to me in the next hours and days.

Luke Foley was elected by the Lindt Cafe siege, and the coincidence that Robbo had spoken up for Man Monis, a constituent. This was a few days before Christmas. Had Luke arrived in August, there would have been time for us to have got to know him, and to have been attracted by his incisive and plausible way of speaking in rivetting, cogent sentences persuasively.

Why Labor stuck so long with Robbo baffles me. Why they elected Robbo astounds me. He both looks and sounds like a small-time gangster.

On top of this Luke lost a week of his mere twelve weeks as Leader to the dual distractions of Malcolm Fraser and another weird air crash, and it was the last week of the campaign. It was the week when Baird’s connection to a crooked Chinese company should have been the big recurring headline, or his friend Abbott’s theft of billions from New South Wales which he gave to Western Australia.

Stategically, Labor erred in following the focus groups and asserting, like them, that Baird was a ‘good bloke’. He could have been portrayed as a lethal incompetent whose goons shot Katrina Dawson thirty-two times, a bumbling klutz who wouldn’t let Man Monis talk to the Prime Minister, and come out, sated, with his hands up. They could have emphasised his opposition to gay marriage, his years as an inflamed fundamentalist preacher in America, his obliteration of TAFE and his lame pathetic echoing, in all things but border protection, of the punishing policies of his constituent, friend, fellow Christian and fellow Manly beach-jogging fascist athlete, Abbott.

They erred in not using the true argument against privatisation, which is that you pay your electricity bill, and the money comes back to you, in nurses and schoolteachers and ambulance drivers and firemen. Your money comes back to you. But if you privatise the electricity your money goes to China, and you never see it again. They could have said simply also, ‘In the next ninety-nine years, the poles and wires would have earned a hundred and twenty billion dollars. And these dumb clucks are leasing them for twenty.’

They could have answered the ‘L-plate Luke’ charge — that he was inexperienced in government — with the simple answer, ‘So was Barry O’Farrell’. Or ‘So was Nick Greiner.’ Or ‘So, when he became Treasurer, was Mike Baird.’

It wasn’t all their fault, of course. Luke was deliberately sabotaged by the ABC, who lit him like Vincent Price in The House of Wax in the crucial encounter in the parliamentary library (Why the parliamentary library? Why not a studio?) and by Chris Uhlmann who kept interrupting him. On the day before the election, he was shot side on and given two minutes, and Baird was shot front on, and given four. You could not see Luke’s eyes, a classic trick of diminishment known to every film school student. You saw Baird’s eyes, his best feature, very prominently.

The assault on him by the Murdoch papers needs no reiteration. At one point he was pictured greenface in a koala suit, and Baird in a racing driver’s glamorous costume, for the day when it was proposed he would bid for the Grand Prix, before it was discovered he couldn’t. At all times by all the media Labor’s anti-privatisation reasoning was denounced as ‘the biggest scare campaign in Australia’s history’. So the fairly mild-mannered statement, ‘If you vote Liberal, your electricity prices go up’, outclassed and outweighed, apparently, ‘the downward thrust of China’ and ‘Russia’s finger on the nuclear button.’

Labor is currently seven seats away from government, if you assume the Greens and the Independents would come in with them, and of course they would. They will pick up two more on the pre-polls, East Hills and Monaro. That will leave them five seats away.

They could have got these five seats, probably, had they heeded some of the ideas I sent to them. Foley’s office assured me were being passed on, but they probably weren’t.

One was a TAFE lottery; easy enough to understand. It would have awarded a half-million dollar first prize now and then, and banked ten million that funded new TAFE courses and kept the fees low.

One was putting back the Casino-to-Murwillumbah rail line. This would have won Tweed Heads.

One was putting a dining car on each of two trains from Katoomba to Central, one on each of two trains from Wollongong to Central, and one on each of two trains from Newcastle to Central, and charging ten percent more for the tickets in those trains. This would have taken hundreds of commuter cars off the road, and with ‘Breakfast Special’ and ‘Cocktail Hour Special’ and ‘Late Supper Special’ journeys brought more people back to public transport.

Another was threatening to pass a law that would bring down all rents on all small businesses by one third; ten percent this year, ten percent next year, ten percent the year after. This would be favoured by ninety-eight percent of the voters, and release tens of billions into other parts of the economy, employing more young people and keeping more small businesses open, like the shoe shop in Avalon that was being charged, before it closed, three thousand dollars a week.

Another was adding Verity Firth, not yet in parliament, to the Shadow Ministry, as Jodie McKay was, and Luke Foley. This would have won Balmain.

Would these ideas have won five more seats in the commuter suburbs and the Far North Coast? Of course they would.

The difficulty with Labor is, as always, limited ambition, hypochondria, and stinginess. Government is always four years away, and we shouldn’t rush, and we shouldn’t spend too much on advertising lest we waste it. Five hundred dollars more would have kept Verity Firth in Balmain in 2011, and we lost Balmain. But hell, we saved five hundred dollars.It’s a two term strategy, comrade. Best wait a bit. Best wait a bit.

How did we get here from there? Most of the blame lies with the Obeid-Tripodi-Roozendahl faction, who sacked Rees when Labor was on 45 percent and made sure that, under Keneally, we lost with 36 percent. A fair bit lies with Martin Ferguson, who, like Obeid, Tripodi and Roozendahl should now be expelled and shamed. He was in a Liberal Party ad, for fuck’s sake, and was a lobbyist for coal seam gas. He has no place in the Labor Party, any more.

Some of the blame lies with Rees, who could have displaced Robbo in the last year and, as a former Premier and a cleanskin, cut Baird to ribbons after ten of his MPs resigned under clouds of corruption. He could like Foley have found another seat, and returned to power universally applauded.

And a lot lies, of course, with Kevin Rudd. Had he merely consulted, and not been a self-embellishing twerp, and let the factions choose, in the Labor Party way, who would be in the ministry, and had he taken advice from some Labor Party seniors and grandees — McMullan, Debus, Faulkner, Kerr, Carr, Beattie, Wran, Keating, Whitlam — and some of the bright new ministers and parliamentary secretaries — Combet, Roxon, Plibersek, Shorten, Clare — he would now be in his ninth year of power. He chose instead to act like a frivolous, sneering tyrant, and here we are.

And so it goes.

And here we are.

Today’s Galaxy

Galaxy is usually accurate in the last days of a campaign. And it has Labor on 45, two party preferred, this morning.

But its presentation is different this time. It gives no ‘refused’ or ‘undecided’ figures. It does not say if its preference flows are as they were in 2011 or as they were yesterday. It does not say who the ‘others’ are, how many are PUP, how many are Christian Democrats, how many what might be called Windsor Independents, and so on. It does not factor in most Independents’ opposition to coal seam gas, or the sale/rent of the poles and wires, or Fred Niles’ opposition to the above.

It does not say, crucially, what difference ringing on landlines means. It usually favours the Liberals by 1 or 1.5 percent, because nobody under twenty-five has one, and most people under forty are out of the house.

So it’s not hard to see Labor’s base vote being 36 percent, and to add to that, as preferences, 10.5 of the Greens’ 11 percent, not 8.2 percent as they would have have been in 2011. That gets Labor up to 46.5 percent, two party preferred. And there are 10 percent more ‘others’ after that. A mere 2.5 of that 10 percent would show Labor winning.

We are told that Baird is on 53 percent as ‘preferred Premier’. And he may well be on that; Campbell Newman was on 49. It may be so. But we are not told why that figure is 10 percent less than it was a month ago and why his popularity continues to go south.

It may well be that Galaxy is right, and Labor will pick up only 15 or 16 seats and Baird’s teflon popularity will conquer all, in even those ten seats his corrupt MPs resigned last year.

But no party has ever won an election after privatising anything (Keating, Kennett, Kerin, Keneally, Bligh) nor promising to privatise anything (Napthine, Newman). And it may just be that the ‘mother of all scare campaigns’ has worked, and people don’t want their money going to China instead of staying here and buying hospitals and schools.

I find Foley’s optimism infectious. A lot of Independents will defeat a lot of Nationals, and there may be a hung parliament, and interesting times ahead.

Or…the Murdoch entity Galaxy may be lying in its teeth.

The Dead Perrett Scratch

Janine Perrett revealed on Skynews two nights ago how Malcolm Fraser groped, importuned and sexually assaulted her in and outside a cab in New York in 1986.

He was not around to deny it, though his wife Tamie was, and will be aggrieved I think to be told about it twenty-nine years later, just before the State Funeral, where friends will either ask her about it, or not ask her about it, and turn their eyes away in geriatric, womanly, mortified sympathy.

It is possible, just possible, that it did not happen, or what did happen was malignantly magnified. It is not likely a world leader would grope so unattractive a girl.

It is entirely possible he had a drink with her, and saw her protectively to a taxi, and kissed her cheek. It is very, very unlikely he would have gone further.

There is for a start the cultural thing. In Memphis, the girl was an American, and would not have known who he was. Would he so expose himself (as it were) to a media-savvy ambitious Australian ugly bitch who could ruin his middle-fifties and his marriage with a squib in the smh or a published story in The Nation Review? It is very much to be doubted.

What is more likely, I think, is a Murdoch plot to shrink the great man’s reputation posthumously, and so head off the allegations, soon to surface in Fraser’s interviews with Robyn Hughes, embargoed until after his death, of Murdoch’s central part in the Dismissal.

And so it goes.

The Thirty-Six Worst Things The Liberals Did Yesterday (230)

Jackie Kelly, a former Liberal minister and Howard protegee, was portrayed as a crazed kamikaze pilot on the front page of The Daily Telegraph after she preferred Labor in a pivotal seat, Penrith, and opposed a threatened airport at Badgery’s Creek. TREACHEROUS EX-LIB MINISTER PREFERENCES LABOR IN CRAZY BID TO BLOCK BADGERY’S AIRPORT: KAMIKAZE KELLY, the headline ran, and a Warren Brown cartoon pictured her as a ‘turncoat’ and an editorial accused her of ‘disloyalty, treachery and vengeance’.

This emphasised, some said, the affrighted Murdochists’ rising Foley-panic in the home stretch of what seemed now like his unexpected win or near-win in New South Wales after Baird was caught red-fingered in the bed of Communist China, to whom he had promised control, for a century, of our electricity. He called Foley’s mention of this ‘a desperate distraction’ and, over his usual hot chocolate in the Lindt Cafe wept, ‘We will get through this. We will get through this.’

No such front page berated Martin Ferguson, the Labor Iscariot who attacked in Baird commercials Foley’s mild-mannered view that our electricity money should stay in Australia and be spent here on teachers and nurses. He was ‘to be praised,’ the Telegraph said, ‘for so gravely hurting his party; to wit, the Labor Party.’

In the smh, Tim Dick asked Bronwyn Bishop to resign. She was tremendously unfair, he noted, having booted out 319 Labor members and only 5 Liberal or National members, and having yesterday called a question on the debt-to-GDP ratio ‘not much of a question’ before disallowing it. To this Burke, objecting, said, ‘It is a brand new precedent if answering questions is now optional for ministers.’ It was, in fact, the first such ruling in a house of parliament in over a thousand years of democracy and a symptom of her burgeoning condition, dementia.

Geoff Winestock, a Liberal voter, called ‘racist’ Foley’s opposition to the Chinese, the Russians, the French or the Irish owning our electricity, and approvingly as well quoted Andrew Constance’s harsher judgment that it was ‘a racist rant’. AC did not go so far as as to call Foley a ‘self-loathing Paddy’ or ‘a bog Mick fathead’ or ‘a Papist pig’, though Luke, his wife and children were of Irish descent, but he came close. He bayed as well for laws banning unions from taking out advertisements in a democracy. ‘That,’ he grouched, ‘is taking freedom too far.’ He then after two whiskies abruptly bellowed ‘Je ne suis Charlie!’ and was assisted from the room.

Shorten asked Abbott to join his plan to build our next flotilla of submarines in South Australia in collaboration with whatever foreign company supplied the best deal and the best design. Abbott, who had last year voiced his admiration for the ‘skill’ and ‘honour’ with which the Japanese had sunk the Manly Ferry in 1942 (you can’t make this stuff up) was having none of this. He said, or hinted, he had already a handshake deal with our traditional beheaders, the Japanese, and Shorten was a fool to imagine he would change his mind. Thousands of jobs would go, and South Australia’s economy be ruined, but he would stand by this handshake, he implied, lest he suffer dishonour and be obliged to commit hari-kiri, as decent men must when placed in such a position.

Many thousands of those who were sexually abused as children were assured by the Abbott government they would not get any money, ever. It would involve too much complicated investigation, it was explained to them, of, say, how much a cheap feel was worth, and how much repeated buggery, and how much a year of enforced blow-jobs occasioning later suicide, or a life of drug addiction and early death. And besides, Abbott’s old school Riverview might not have the spare money to pay for lawyers for fifteen years, nor the tens of millions in compensation the traumatised litigants might then be awarded. And that would never do. ‘It’s important St Ignatius be spared the expense,’ Abbott is said to have said, ‘and Christian forgiveness go first, as Our Lord requires, to the vilest of men. These are my old acquaintance, and they deserve my careful attention, lest their evidence incriminate any more of my old acquaintance. This I believe.’

Andrew Laming brought flammable black liquid into the Federation Chamber, thereby making nonsense of the hundreds of millions expended on parliament ‘security’, and rubbing it between his hands appeared about to daub it on his face and, in the manner of Al Jolson, sing ‘Mammie’ blackface and then explode. Bronwyn Bishop made him say sorry, and suspended him from the House for twenty-four hours. He was the only Liberal thus treated under her tyrannous rule, though ten or twenty or thirty Labor members had been so shamed. News of her habitual injustice became known across the world, and her desire to resemble Margaret Thatcher, thought further evidence of her senility.

A plane crashed in the French Alps after nine minutes of radio silence, killing everyone on board, including two Australians. Abbott for some reason did not accuse Putin of blowing it up, nor threaten to ‘shirtfront’ anyone who might have blown it up, nor divert Australian soldiers from Syria to search precipitous mountains for two blackened Australian corpses, nor announce an interdenominational State Funeral in a Melbourne Cathedral nor a National Day of Mourning for these glorious dead. He did, however, continue to spend tens of thousands of dollars a day on a search in three oceans for MH 370, to find the which might take as long as the fifty years he was now prepared to take to get us back into Surplus.

He didn’t care. He wasn’t there to save money any more, he had gamely announced this a week ago. He was there to proudly run up bills and borrow money from the Chinese to pay their enemies the Japanese to build a new harbour and then twenty submarines with specifications they would keep from us lest we were ever in a shooting war on China’s side and they needed to capture and brandish the weaponry. He was there to proudly run up bills on social services likewise, as his mentor BA Santamaria would have wanted. ‘Seven acres and a mule!’ he began to shout randomly, and was quickly assisted from the chamber by two big Maoris and given by Credlin her ‘special tea’ and ‘settled down’.

And it was Turnbull’s voice not his that was on the final robocalls to undecided voters in New South Wales, lest voters recall who, amazingly, was indeed Prime Minister.

Other robocalls began to popularise a new pun, ‘Reds under the Baird’, referring to Baird’s unadmitted Communist Chinese connections.

And so it went.

The Twenty-Seven Worst Things The Liberals Did Yesterday (228)

Cheating, Skynews showed only part of the ‘Star Wars’ Pyne sketch, omitting his beaming pleasure in the garrotting of a rival by the iron grasp of Darth Vader. Cheating, Murdoch published only the notional ‘two party preferred’ of a Galaxy Poll of some suburban seats, omitting the raw votes achieved by Labor, the Greens, the Independents, the Christian Democrats and PUP, lest they show Foley nearing, or nudging, power. BY A BAIRD MARGIN was the Daily Telegraph headline, showing Labor gaining ‘only’ 10 percent, not the 12 percent they might win with, forgetting thus the great Fred Daley nostrum, ‘When the swing is on, it’s on.’

Howard called Abbott ‘the comeback kid’, believing he would he would win back the 1.3 million voters he had lost, a world record, in only four months of power, and failed to win back thereafter.

Cheating, Ipsos-Fairfax rang octogenarians on Thursday, Friday and Saturday night, and asked them to talk to garrulous machines. Eighty thousand of them did not, 1223 did, and they preferred Baird to Foley by 56 to 27, and the Coalition to Labor by 54 to 46. Those under forty were not contacted, being out of the house or on mobiles. Its margin of error of 3.1 percent, would see Foley Labor on 49.1 percent in a hung parliament, or winning narrowly. The Foley mantra, ‘Sack Baird, and sack Abbott free of charge’, might put him over the line.

Morrison restored the money he had taken from Rosie Batty and her kind, which housed and assisted women fleeing the violence of an angry husband or a mad ex-boyfriend. He refused to apologise for the violence, on his watch, against other women on the island of Nauru, and those on Christmas Island he had cyberbullied into aborting their children by shrieking ‘You will never live in Australia!’ on their radios and televisions till they booked the operation. He was sure none of this ever happened, and put his face in his hands.

He spoke in tongues on Sunday as usual, and came out of his prayers refreshed by a new, uplifting rush of Christian kindness. He resolved to kill fewer people this year than last, and even fewer next year. Another battered wife died while he prayed. He babbling beseeched the Deity to reduce by days, even months, her imminent millennia in hellfire. He had changed, he had changed, he was a good man now, and hour by hour he was proving it.

Hockey indicated he would cut money for the battered wives of the Solomon Islands, and Julie Bishop slumped in her seat and pulled a foul face that was emphasised and magnified in replays in the following hours. She was ropeable, and Cormann swore there were ‘noa sach plarns, or if zere were zey occurred ven I vos nert avike.’

A Morgan Poll came out indicating a 2.5 percent swing, federally, to Labor. It was almost certainly to do with Pyne, again, attacking the future of smart skint students and threatening to abolish scientific enquiry in Australia and sack all our Nobel Prize winners if he did not get his way. If the swing were duplicated in New South Wales, it might put Labor on 50 percent, and winning easily on Saturday.

It proved that Andrew Constance was trying to sell the electricity to China, or to a big billionaire of that nationality. This outraged what might be called the Hanson Cluster in the Western Suburbs and would, it was thought, if emphasised in television advertisements in the next two days, ensure Luke Foley was elected on Saturday. It seemed more and more that ‘Bambi’ Baird had run out of luck and his dad Bruce was dead right when he warned him, ‘Stay out of politics, son, you’re too dumb for it.’

Q&A came on, and a question about coal seam gas achieved such vast applause from an Easter Show crowd that it soon became very clear that every seat now held by the Nationals was likely to be lost on Saturday, and the 28 percent swing in Ballina was probably typical, not exceptional, because of a farm-gouging and water-fouling issue that was primal, frightening, basic and blood-deep. And it may well soon be so that the party of Sir Earl Page and the party of Sir Robert Menzies might both be extinguished soon, and the future of the bush belong more, in times to come, to men like Tony Windsor than singed bluenosed bandicoots like his loathesome successor, Barnaby.ll

Headlines emphasised the hatred of Julie Bishop for Hockey, the fat and greasy conniver of the increased persecution of the bashed women of the South Pacific. She pondered a Spill at tomorrow’s party meeting. As Deputy Leader she could bring on a Spill unassisted, and be, she imagined, she dared to imagine, Prime Minister by noon. She could then sack Joe and make Frydenberg Treasurer; and Abbott Ambassador to Kazakhstan, where his Borat-like behaviour would go unremarked. She could banish Pyne and Bronwyn to the back bench, make Turnbull Speaker…These heady thoughts overwhelmed her. She had a steadying gin. And then she had another. Immortal longings flowed in her. She began to make phone calls.

And so it went.

Today’s Galaxy And ReachTEL

As I suspected, a fairly honest Galaxy due out yesterday was held up, tweaked and fudged, and then revised and, let’s put a name to it, forged. Its actual figures were erased (Labor?  Greens? Independents? Nationals? Christian Democrats?), which may be a world first, and a figure, 54 percent to the Coalition, plucked — you might say — out of thin air.

An honest poll would say how many respondents there were, and what age groups and genders voted which way. An honest poll would say how many Greens and Independents there were, and how many of these groups this year were likely to ‘exhaust’, how many prefer the Liberals compared with 2011, how many go again to Fred Nile. An honest poll would say how many of the respondents were over sixty — only landlines were rung, amazingly, on, amazingly, Cheap Movie Night, Late Shopping Night, and Wednesday — and how many voters, those under thirty for instance, did not have a landline, and never would.

An honest poll with those figures would be on the front page, not page 4 beside a vast headline, LIBERALS REVEAL BIG PLAN TO SAVE THE SICK. It would say who the preferred Premier was, and by what margin, compared with a month ago, he was preferred, and how many this month approved his performance, and how many disapproved.

This Galaxy does nothing like that, nothing that is normally done when a poll is published; because, perhaps, the CEO David Briggs refused to put his name to it in fear of a shaming public trial and eventual imprisonment by Foley, Palasczuk, Andrews or Weatherill or their Attorneys-General for criminal fraud after he, or a Telegraph employee, or Col Allen maybe, changed the sample from, say, 925 to, say, 825, eliminating 70 Labor voters, the way you do.

It does show, however, that ‘over 40 percent’ (43? 45? 48?) don’t want privatisation; that is, ‘over 40 percent’ of them who are on landlines and are home on Late Shopping Night, and Cheap Movie Night; and 35 percent are less likely to go to the Liberals because of Abbott being a cunt, however likeable his beaming beach buddy Baird seems to be.

The figure which Murdoch’s man Col Allen is frantically concealing is, I would guess, 49 percent to Labor, or 50.

…In another part of the forest, ReachTEL, which always favours the Liberals by 3 or 4 percent (its method — of making octogenarians talk at length to machines instead of watching Micalleff — had Rudd, Swan, Clare, Burke, Bowen and Dreyfus losing their seats in 2013) shows, nonetheless, Labor on 52.2 percent, two party prefered, in Ballina after a 28 percent swing to it, because of its policy of opposition to coal-seam gas (43 percent of the electorate oppose it, 29 percent would like to see the farmlands gouged, and 17.6 percent are ‘undecided’); Labor winning Newtown comfortably with 56.5 percent against the Greens, on Liberal preferences; and Strathfield narrowly, with 50.8 percent.

Adjusted in the usual way, the Strathfield figure would give Labor about 54 percent, and that same swing elsewhere would threaten, this week, all the Liberal gains in the Western Suburbs. This narrow lead may then well widen, or not, after Pyne’s war on science becomes more execrated, and Morrison’s approval of the rape of children in his care more loathed, and Abbott’s boast of no more surpluses for forty years more ludicrous; and so on.

It seems likely, though not certain, that Labor will win on Saturday, with 46 or 47 seats.

And so it goes.

The Twenty-Eight Worst Things The Liberals Did Yesterday (227)

Abbott, echoing the last lines of Some Like It Hot, said ‘Institutions aren’t perfect’ in response to a report revealing harassment, abuse, a form of prostitution and child rape on Nauru, and he shrugged as he added, ‘Things happen’, much as he once said ‘Shit happens’ of green-on-blue murders in Afghanistan. It differed, though, from his previous assessment, ‘Another Labor stitch-up’, when Gillian Triggs had reported similar deeds and his call for her to resign for having brought the matter up.

Of the trade of marihuana for blow-jobs, breast-exposure for longer showers, the buggery of children and the certainty that none of the culpable men would go to gaol he said, ‘I have complete confidence in the service provider, Transfield’, and was initially pleased that the death of his enemy Malcolm Fraser and the subsequent nationwide tsunami of praise for him had overwhelmed these awful crimes for a day or so. But he was thereafter annoyed to find that the headline scandals recurred, and people still found rape of children interesting though it happened offshore.

A ReachTEL poll showed a 28 percent swing to Labor in Ballina, where coal-seam gas was unpopular, and a tweaked and massaged Galaxy poll, the Murdoch-funded survey that was 3 percent wrong in Queensland, showed Labor on 46 but actually, after deciphering, on 49, probably, and winning, probably, though not certainly, government on Saturday. Foley announced interest-free loans for community housing, a popular idea, and another poll showed Jodi McKay, a corruption fighter, narrowly ahead in Strathfield. On average there was an 11 percent swing to Labor across the state, and despite the Murdoch ‘hate koalas, hate them’ front pages, it seemed Foley’s desire to prevent their extermination was winning some supporters. People were voting early in great numbers, indicating a Labor win.

Baird continued to call ‘a stunt’ Labor’s revelation of his crime of altering a report disfavouring privatisation to one approving it. He thus joined $inodino$ and Hockey and ten sacked Liberal MPs in the dock defending in the court of public opinion an impression of corruption, and he looked increasingly frantic, like a Peking Duck observing the chef’s approaching cleaver, as the big day neared. ‘We will get through this,’ he sobbed in the Lindt Cafe. ‘We will get through this.’

John Howard, a Liberal voter, said Bill Shorten, the auteur of NDIS, and the chief salesman of Gonski, ‘stands for nothing’. Nikki Savva, a Liberal voter, said all that people wanted to talk about on their doorsteps was what a cunt Abbott was, and how dearly they hated privatisation, and Baird was probably therefore likely to lose at least twenty seats, if not twenty-five, and government. Malcolm Farr, a Liberal voter, called Pyne a ‘nut’. A ‘Star Wars’ Pyne sketch occurred on Insiders, the funniest, some averred, in world history thus far. Farr said Pyne’s wild cry ‘I fixed it!’ was like Napoleon calling his retreat from Moscow ‘a slap in the face for the Czar’.

Baird at his launch hugged Abbott, and lost twenty thousand votes. He then hugged Howard, and lost twenty thousand more. Foley, enjoying himself, offered ‘two for the price of one’: if you overthrow Baird on Saturday, you automatically lose Abbott also on Monday free of charge. Octogenarians talking to ReachTEL machines, however, gave Baird a 54 to 46 lead in Monday’s Ipsos the same as Newspoll, a bit of a worry. It was possible, just possible, that Foley was not yet quite well known enough, and he would score only 48, and narrowly lose, and so it goes.

Pyne with a smug look told Chris Kenny (who does not fuck goats unless it is safe to do so) that he would continue, yes continue, to bring before the recalcitrant Senate his deranged policy of student daylight-robbery, and he would talk to the ‘ferals’ nicely about it, and he would buy them cups of tea, and he would send them chocolates and roses, and he would threaten them with the loss of their seats, and he would win them over somehow, and make them, somehow, embrace his wild, fuck-headed notion like a teddy bear in Brideshead. He looked, for a while, pretty mad. He then for some reason violently denied that he had said ‘I’m a fixer’, and immediately after he had done so watched with a dazed smile himself up on screen saying it, in the now viral item on Insiders, as famed already and as widely beloved as the parrot sketch from Monty Python.

It was entirely possible, some worried medicos assessed, that Pyne had early Alzheimer’s. The fury, the venom, the rage, the denial, were as much part of that sad ailment as the beaming, cloth-headed, oblivious forgetting.

It was further believed by many observers, though of course not all, that the Pyne university ‘cunning plan’, outscoring all others, was what the Abbott government was now most hated for: the Little Fixer’s bizarre desire to pass on to each member of the next generation not thirty thousand dollars of our debt, as Hockey charged, but a quarter of a million dollars of our debt, and the threatening of all scientific enquiry should the next generation not fork over that vast amount. This, above all, it was thought, was the smile on the face of the jackal, the drool of the rabid dog, the munch of the Pyne-faced tapeworm, which they had of late most come to abhor.

And so it goes, and went.

The Twenty-Nine Worst Things The Liberals Did Yesterday (224)

Abbott said Labor would have got Australia to ‘Greek levels of debt’ if they had won the elections of 2013, 2016, 2019, 2022, 2026, 2029, 2032, 2035, 2038, 2041, 2044, 2047 and 2050 despite their manifest economic incompetence over those thirty-five years — during which they did not, for some reason, change their policies, and were somehow re-elected anyway. He then said the Budget would be back in surplus ‘in five years’ (Joe put his fat face in his fat hands) and the next one would be ‘dull and boring’ and contain further attacks on the universities, the old, the jobless young, the boat people and the next four generations paying three million dollars, including interest, for their houses. ‘And if that’s not dull enough for you,’ he shrieked, ‘watch out for 2016.’

He called the Senate crossbench ‘ferals’, then said he actually meant Labor and the Greens. Jacqui Lambie called on Pyne to resign from the Abbott ministry. Aware that he would utterly kibosh Baird by saying it, Pyne promised he would ‘try again’ to impoverish future generations with his infamous unregulated ever-inflating fees for university courses. The Sydney Western Suburbs were amazed to hear it, as they were to hear he would sack, if he found himself again in a steaming snit, seventeen hundred scientists, including some Nobel Prize winners.

Baird admitted changing a bank’s report from privatisation being ‘bad for the state’ to privatisation being ‘good for the state’ and thereby committing a fraud on the electorate of Madoff proportions he could go to gaol for. Pyne, hoping to do Baird even more damage, said he would fine all universities millions if their graduate students didn’t pay their HECS loans back, even if those graduates didn’t have a job — in the arts, for instance, or in the CSIRO which Abbott was bent on abolishing — to pay their loans back with. It began to be rumoured that Murdoch, who started out in Adelaide, had in those far-off days recruited the high school student Pyne as a midget Soviet spy, and he was striving still to bring down capitalism by doing the most unpopular things he could think of, every day.

Abbott abolished the parliament of Norfolk Island, whose democratic rule since 1792 had been, he said, ‘a failed experiment, like democracy everywhere’. This measure was compared to Yeltsin burning down parliament in 1993, and shooting the duly elected parliamentary representatives as they staggered out of the flames. He protested in his defense that it was ‘the only election promise I have kept’, but this caveat was not appreciated by the disfranchised peasant residents, many of them descendants of Fletcher Christian, who in an emergency meeting of their crumbling parliament called for his guillotining, in their quaint, old fashioned, eighteenth century way.

Morrison tried to lower pensions, and every three years decide by how much, but the ‘feral’ Senate crossbench wouldn’t let him. Lazarus said traumatising old people every three years was cruel, but he guessed Morrison, torturer of children and pregnant women and everywhere nicknamed ‘S&M’, was used to that. It was the twelfth major Budget policy to go up in smoke since May last year, but Abbott, who said, ‘What would you do?’ at Question Time to Shorten, flagged they would all be back next May, distressing the nation, and losing even more votes for the Coalition. This was if Abbott lasted that long, and was not ‘guillotined’ on April Fool’s Day after a Foley victory.

Abbott let it be known that if moves were made against his leadership he would call a Double Dissolution as a result of which sixty-five MPs and twenty Senators would lose theit seats and leave the Liberal Party ‘in the dumpster of history’. Some, however, thought they had an ‘outside chance’ of winning with such a counterpunch, others that those who predicted such an outcome ‘had to be on crack’. A third group feared that if, indeed, a DD worked, and Abbott like Netanyahu pulled off a surprise result, ‘we would still have Tony as our Prime Minister, and Credlin as our Perpetual Horsewoman of the Apocalypse, and the very thought of such an outcome was too, too hard to bear.’

An Australian, Sulman Rahman, was killed fighting the ‘Death Cult’ ISIS, on the same side as the Australian soldiers there, assisting the Kurds, who gave him a hero’s funeral.

Julie Bishop let it be known that if he had come home alive, he would have got twenty years.

By midnight, Abbott was pleased to learn an Australian had been killed in a terrorist act in Tunisia, and he now had grounds to send, on April 25th, an ANZAC force to war in that country.

And call a Double Dissolution.

He rubbed his hands together, chuckling.

And so it went.

And so it went

The Thirty-Eight Worst Things The Liberals Did Yesterday (223)

Abbott was called a ‘focking eedjut’ by the Irish Prime Minister, Enda Kenny, in what Tom Keneally called ‘the least friendly message from Ireland on St Patrick’s Day in world history.’ Abbott, said Enda, had wrongly alleged the Irish got on the piss, wore green, and sang ribald songs in mid-March, ‘an unspeakable calumny’ for which he should be, Enda added, tottering a little, ‘thumped’. It was a measure, some said, of how closely Abbott was observed these days, and vigilantly excoriated whatever the fock he did.

Showing signs of hydrophobic madness, Pyne, his face puce, acclaimed himself as ‘the fixer’, though Shorten, asking what he had fixed, achieved no answer from him. Lazarus, ‘the brick with eyes’, threatened to ‘break him like a twig’ if he ever sent him chocolates or flowers again. Asked by reporters if he would take his policy of ‘university degrees at infinitely increasing prices, forever’ to a Double Dissolution, he blinked, and blanched, and said no, no, no, no way, no way, he had all his life ‘depended on the kindness of stangers’ and he was ‘sure there was one out there somewhere, someday, somewhere’, and batted his eyelids attractively. Plans were rapidly hatched to take the crazed little ponce into care, and a veteran butterfly-catcher was hired to entrap him at midnight and take him struggling away.

Julie Bishop announced she would spend billions ‘deradicalising’ Muslim youth in the next two decades, a much more urgent priority than rescuing and feeding the smashed and grieving survivors of the Vanuatu tempest, for which she had set aside ‘thirty-eight cents per Australian taxpayer, no more than that,’ she proudly announced. ‘It’s important we get ‘these things in perspective,’ she told the House. ‘By spending five billion deradicalising Muslim youth we may prevent four white Australians being blown up in Martin Place. By spending five million assisting presently starving Vanuatuans, we will ensure three hundred of them die, or perhaps five hundred, and this will in turn ensure the next generation despise us, as colonial oppressors, or bad neighbours. It is important we put what Ross Lightfoot might call the nignogs in their place. We have to look after our own people. Those lesser breeds whom God has chosen to obliterate, we should help on their way.’

Jacqui Lambie hobbled out of her sickbed and voted against Pyne’s bill, and ‘the little fixer’, as he affectionately dubbed himself, did a goosestepping tapdance round her as she hobbled out, and later shrieked a rap-song of his own composition to the parliamentary parking station, where Kim Carr threatened to run him over. It was thought by some he had become insane, though others more intimate with him explained, ‘He’s always like this, in these mad March days.’ Fran Kelly, a Liberal voter, warmly supported his deranged position, yelling at Kim Carr that ‘tomorrow belongs to him!’ till James Carleton, a good man, took her away and gave her a cup of tea. The butterfly-catcher stalked Pyne in the predawn hours while he took his run, and as he skipped by planned his next pursuant move, breathing calmly.

The Daily Telegraph wittily nicknamed ‘Luke Foliage’ the New South Wales Labor leader who, they warned, might actually win, and thereafter advantage koalas and native forests, a terrible thing to do. ‘LOONEY ALLIANCE!’, cried a front page headline beside a fabricated photo of Foley greenface in a koala suit and, on page 13, an Andrew Clennell story, Koala-Cuddler Foley Finds It’s Easy Being In Bed With The Greens. Luke Foley Turns Himself Green For St Paddy’s Day, he added winningly, on page 5. Greens are bad people, said the editorial. They are against uranium mining, think Fukushima a misfortune, oppose like 87 percent of Australians privatising electricity and ‘want to flood Campbelltown with koalas’.

This redefinition of koalas as ‘vermin’ was thought by some of the Murdoch insiders a ‘courageous’ editorial line and not necessarily a wise one but…’Gee, well, oh boy, what Rupert wants, Rupert gets’, glum, overworked Col Allen muttered, shaking his head, ‘even in his present, drooling dotage.’ Some thought his Chinese wife’s affair with Tony Blair, a two-faced mad-eyed Labour turncoat, had unhinged the poor old man. Others thought it was the revelation, lately suppressed by his fairweather ally Cameron, that he had been lifelong, inadvertently, a Soviet spy. Mere senility was not, it appeared, the actual explanation. It might be to do with the imminent centenary of his father’s greatest scoop, Gallipoli, The Fuckup. What had he done to equal this? The Hitler Diaries? Squidgiegate? The gulling of Bush, Howard and Blair into a calamitous lost war in Iraq? His fifty-five year service to the Soviet Union? His uplifting, in this cause, of the crazed hellcat, Thatcher? He wasn’t happy, that was certain. And he was taking it out on koalas.

Miranda Devine, a Liberal voter, said in her column that an atheist upbringing led children to jihad and suicide bombing. She was thereafter surprised to receive from some of her readership dissenting tweets and rancorous fulminations against her Christian faith. ‘Belief in God is an admission of mental incompetence,’ one said. ‘Religion is an illness,’ said another, ‘get well soon.’

Religion was a very good thing, Devine insisted, and almost any kind of religious impulse ‘on the side of the angels’. She made no connection between, say, a Catholic upbringing and pederastic priests who bugger children who later suicide after men like Archbishop Wilson refuse to believe their stories and empower the buggers to go forth and bugger again. It was atheists who were the evil ones, she insisted, atheists, who were, as a rule, the cause world-wide of terrorism. Not religious folk at all.

This woman gets in excess of three hundred thousand dollars a year, or one hundred and fifty dollars a word, from the koala-hater, Rupert Murdoch, who thinks her beauteous, Godbothering fascism ‘worth every penny’.

And so it goes.

The Forty-Eight Worst Things The Liberals Did Yesterday (222)

Pyne after saying he would sack seventeen hundred scientists if he didn’t get his way said suddenly he wouldn’t, and scientific enquiry could now continue in Australia, albeit for only another year. Though any other Minister in the Westminster system would at this point have resigned, he was made of stiffer stuff, and he turned up jovially at Question Time and with beaming pink face acclaimed his own ‘deft manoeuvre’ and compared himself with Attaturk and Winston Churchill, two Gallipoli monsters he rather admired, a mere month from the centenary. Speers and The Choirboy covered their faces with their hands.

Abbott agreed to exempt journalists from his latest assault on free speech. Brandis implied this meant only ‘Murdoch journalists’ and others, like bloggers, would suffer the magnificent fury of the law. Credlin’s new nickname, ‘the Horsewoman of the Apocalypse’, was quoted a few times prior to the Four Corners program, House of Cards, which revealed it was the Liberal Party Treasurer Phil Higginson, a witty sackee, who had coined it. Julie Bishop, in her current radiant Joan of Arc mode, took credit for there being no Australians killed in the Great Vanuatu Storm, and promised five million dollars, less than the price of Malcolm Turnbull’s house, to that wrecked wet roofless archipelago in its worst wild weather extremity in a thousand years.

A Galaxy showing the Baird Coalition on 54 proved to have been half taken on Thursday night, when nobody young was home, on landlines which nobody young has, and to have redistributed all the Independents’ preferences to the Liberals, including those who lately voted for Windsor and Oakeshott, and those who listened to the furious anti-fracking Labor voter Alan Jones. The actual count, the expert Bob Ellis calculated, was Labor on 49, and winning narrowly, and Baird with his feet sticking backwards out of a glad-bag muttering, ‘We will get through this. We will get through this.’

Widodo continued to refuse to take Abbott’s calls. Word was out that Abbott’s people had been bugging him, as they had his predecessor, and were now blackmailing him, and this was why the drug dealers Chan and Sukumaran were still alive. He had been instructed to keep them alive, it was guessed by the smh, ‘until Abbott’s popularity improved.’ If they died before then, Abbott would reveal what he knew, or cause others to reveal it, and thereby ruin his political career. It was a plausible theory, given what Abbott, the dirt-filer, had done to Hanson, Kernot, Slipper, Thomson, Ettridge, Oldfield and Gillard. He was, it had been long known, a filth-sniffer from way back, and Widodo had lately discovered how diligent his lip-smacking prurience and burrowing nose had been.

The Four Corners revealed that it was Bob Santamaria’s Orwellian espionage unit the NCC that had written and posted the tsunami of affectionate letters in support of Abbott that had engulfed the Liberal MPs’ offices after the Spill, the ‘near-death experience’ that had pretty well cornholed his leadership. The NCC said he was worth preserving because he had ‘stood up for’ traditional marriage, and would not permit a conscience vote on gay marriage in the parliament. The NCC had served in the 1950s as a kind of secret police, and Abbott was once a supporter of their political wing, the DLP, and seemed at times to be that still; and to be, if the Widodo story was true, still practising their skulduggery, in the manner of their eminent predecessors, the Spanish Inquisition.

On Q&A Joe Hockey said, amid national derision, that he was ‘very reluctant to take money away from people’. A roar from the audience reminded him he had taken money, in hundreds of millions, from the ABC and SBS. But he had tried as well, of course, to take tens of billions from unemployed youth, scientists, teachers, nurses, doctors, old women going to the doctor and old age pensioners who owned houses in Sydney; and, more successfully, from tens of thousands of public servants he had caused to be sacked in every capital city. He seemed at a loss to explain how he had forgotten all this, upstirring old rumours that a maladministered anaesthetic during his stomach stapling had injured his brain.

He defended negative gearing, which had tripled house prices and ruined the economy because, he said, ‘if you do away with it, rents go up’. This proved to be wrong in every town but Sydney in 1986 and invited the simple solution of rent controls which he would not consider, this being ‘too easy’. He smiled a lot, and was charming, and his famous golden complexion was flawless, but he ended the evening with no credibility left. His case against Fairfax was going badly too. It now seemed the judge might agree that he was corrupt on the day, or very near the day, when he brought down his Budget.

Pyne was called ‘the incredible shrinking Minister’ by the Liberal voter, Fran Kelly; and Abbott, on the Four Corners report, ‘the worst Prime Minister in our history’, cravenly submissive to his gargantuan dominatrix Credlin, who seemed as vengeful and power-mad as the late Augustus’s consort Livia. He was thought by many a focus group member, the smh glumly reported, ‘an incompetent idiot’.

The Greens signed a preference deal with Labor in New South Wales, making it likely that no Green voters would ‘exhaust’ as they had last time, and swings of 25 percent on the North and Central Coast and the Armidale-Tamworth area were now on the cards, as never before, and a Foley victory near certain.

And so concluded another day of the worst free-elected government in the history of democracy since its invention, in Iceland, in 934 A.D.

Today’s Galaxy

Galaxy, which was 3 percent wrong in Queensland, today predicts that Labor will get 46 percent, two party preferred, in New South Wales.

46 plus 3 is 49, and 49 is enough for Labor to win with, in New South Wales where much of the Liberal vote is tied up in the northern suburbs, and the northern beaches, of Sydney.

Galaxy is wrong for the usual reasons. It rings no mobile phones, only landlines, though many, many people under thirty do not have landlines. It rings on nights when few people under forty are at home. It rings at hours when older people are more likely than younger people, or young parents, or middle aged people, to be home in any numbers. It redistributes Independent preferences, and ‘exhausts’ them, as they were in 2012 before Abbott had trashed the brand name and ten Liberal MPs were forced to resign their seats by ICAC snoopers and prodders. It does not, like Morgan, simply ask what those preferences are.

In this case, it claims that though Labor is on 36, and the Greens on 10, and the ‘Others’ on 10, there are none, absolutely none, of the ‘Others’ preferring Labor. It does not say how many of the ‘Others’ are PUP, how many Windsorite Independendents (there would be about a hundred thousand of these), how many Alan Jonesite anti-frackers, and so on. We are simply told that either all of the above prefer the anti-TAFEist, pro-fracking party, or twenty percent of the Greens do. Either of these propositions is ridiculous, but there is Andrew Clennell, proclaiming it gospel, the way he does.

In this way Galaxy gives what Murdoch, its principal customer, wants to receive. It uses the method which in 2012 saw Romney winning easily, and Newman’s LNP winning easily this year in Queensland, and the Liberal Opposition last year in South Australia winning office easily after twelve years of Labor. Its purpose is not prediction, but the creation of a feeling of ‘inevitability’ that gets the flaccid constituent wearily voting for the ‘winning team’.

The bookies, who are rarely wrong, were gulled by this method in Queensland, and were made to pay out at seven to one to those few who bet on a hung parliament, or Labor forming government. They are more wary this time, and in some scenarios are offering odds on Labor on five to one. This figure will come down in the next few days.

It goes without saying that Newspoll and Galaxy are occasionally dishonest — why else do they have CEOs? — and slavishly serve the will of Murdoch, even to the point of suggesting Campbell Newman ‘has a chance’ of retaining his seat.

And so it goes.

The Thirty-Eight Worst Things The Liberals Did Yesterday (221)

Pyne said he would sack seventeen hundred scientists and so turn Australia into the Dayton, Tennessee of the present millennium if the Senate did not pass his plan of ‘limitless fees for universities, forever’. He told Cassidy he was proud of this ‘cunning plan’ and it was Labor’s ‘debt and deficit disaster’ that had made it necessary, alas and alack, to abolish all scientific enquiry in his native country until the end of time. A lifelong Catholic fundamentalist weirdo from what is widely recognized as ‘the Mel Gibson wing of the Church Militant’, he seemed again at one with Pope Urban VIII’s attack on Galileo Galilei, an earlier scientist whose views were inconvenient in the way that the climate-changers of the CSIRO today were inconvenient, and equally determined they be excommunicated from Abbott’s neo-medieval order of ‘seven acres, a mule, and Barnaby Joyce riding it, and yodelling, as Bob Santamaria, peace be unto him, decreed in his wisdom in 1952′, and thereafter sent into exile in ‘heathen America’ for the term of their natural lives.

Cassidy told him there was no way the Senate would let this nonsense through, and Phil Coorey said it would take ‘a stake through Pyne’s heart’ to stop him repeatedly trying to get it through. ‘He’s a determined little fucker,’ Coorey added, in his dry, rude way, ‘and mad as a cut snake.’

Baird was shown to have defrauded of their just compensations a number of female victims of crime, one who was gang-raped, and he slapped himself on the wrist and moistened his big brown eyes and swore it would never happen again. Hinch had invited on his new show the rape victim Katrina Keshishian and she did well, showing Baird to be a cruel untrustworthy swine. It was wondered how soon the Lindt Cafe hostages would say the same thing, after he refused to let Muslim negotiators in to beseech Man Monis to mercy, or to broadcast the small-time terrorist’s small-time demands and thereby calm him down, or let the Prime Minister talk to him and thereby calm him down. It was also wondered what he would pay Katrina Dawson’s family, given how niggardly he had been with Keshishian.

James Paterson, a Liberal voter with the blond, pale face of an adolescent Caligula, agreed with Albrechtsen and Chris Kenny that everyone should sell the family home and live in a lesser place in their seventies, eighties, nineties and noughties in a town far from their friends and never, never, never get a penny in old age pensions though they had paid taxes all their lives in the belief they were getting one. They should thus disinherit and impoverish their children, they eagerly went on, and learn to live on dog food in their late eighties, or work in Bunnings till they dropped. This was after Cormann had told them, ‘Dere eess noa vye, ebsolutelee nooa vye, we will mek oald parsonss sairl ze femmily homm, any moar then ve vill invade Mesopotamia, oops.’

Baird rang Kershishian late at night, said she was right and he was wrong, and scores of millions would go now to crime victims he had thieved it from, and after that fell to sobbing, ‘We will get through this; we will get through this,’ the way he does, checking his tears in the mirror, and refusing money to the Lindt Cafe hostages his rogue cops had shot with two hundred bullets inadvertently. A day later, an ABC news broadcast from Lismore Bowling Club showed he had lost three National seats he had planned to gouge for natural gas, and perhaps two million elderly persons who now believed, because of Cormann’s imperfect pronunciation, that they would have to sell the family home and live on dog food in cardboard boxes on Ballina Beach in their nineties. Baird was amazed to find, as Kennett, Keating, Kerin, Keneally, Howard, Bligh, Napthine, Abbott and Newman had before him, that ‘bad policies lose votes.’

The Murdoch papers concealed all polling of voter intention in New South Wales, the way they do, because, some said, that polling they had done showed, and massively emphasised, that following Hockey’s abject backdown on car manufacturing, Morrison’s brazen assault on the rate at which in future old age pensions would be upgraded, Abbott’s ‘lifestyle’ justification for ethnic cleansing and land theft in Western Australia, and the alliance of farmers, Nationals and Greenies on coal seam gas, Luke Foley was ‘winning in a walk.’

Murdoch proved to have been some sort of Soviet spy. The files on this were concealed by David Cameron, a Liberal supporter, and locked up in hugger-mugger for twenty more years. ‘In twenty more years,’ Cameron said, by way of explanation, ‘Rupert may be too old to put in gaol.’

And so it went.

The Twenty-Five Worst Things The Liberals Did Yesterday (220)

The 7.30 Leaders Debate, visually cheated to assist ‘Bambi’ Baird, was nonetheless narrowly lost by him after he could not say where he would get his money from if the Upper House vetoed, as it was bound to, his sale of the poles and wires, or too low a price was offered for them. Peter ‘Malvolio’ Hartcher, besotted by Julie Bishop and girt in form-fitting yellow stockings, called Abbott ‘a continuingly dismaying symbol of disunity’, and ‘a demoniser in the service of the basest of politics’ who was ‘disqualifying himself from the leadership of a successful country of immigrants from every nation, race and religion whose future depends on unity and harmony.’

‘Bibi’ Netanyahu, a Liberal supporter, seemed set to lose power in the Holy Land. It was thought his murder of four hundred children last June had something to do with it, and the pulverising of a great, proud Biblical city which would take a hundred years to rebuild. It was guessed if he lost he would face the International Criminal Court and fume in the slammer for twenty years.

No picture of Baird, the racing driver, graced the front page of the Telegraph today like yesterday, his cunning plan to steal the Grand Prix from its rightful owners having exploded overnight.

Four ‘accidental terrorists’ who had gone to Syria to fight Assad and now feared ISIS would behead them and wanted to come home were told by Abbott that if they even thought of this they would get twenty-five years in Long Bay; better they be executed online, crucified perhaps, and their parents bewail them and their younger brothers blow up parts of Sydney in revenge.

The smh touted Foley as a man who might, now, displace Baird as Premier in two weeks, so well was he performing on the campaign trail with sensible, costed policies like more nurses, more paramedics, and a new underground railway to the imminent airport in Badgery’s Creek. The Liberals’ ad continued to attack him without showing his picture. If his face became known it was likely they would be ‘cactus’, or so their in-depth research revealed.

It was not known yet what damage Abbott’s plan to ‘ethnically cleanse’ remote Aboriginal communities in Western Australia and seize their holy ground and their sacred sites and mine them for bauxite and aluminium and iron would do to their chances in the East but it was thought by some observers that this latest blithering idiocy rivalled ‘Sir’ Prince Philip and the selling off of the submarines to our traditional beheaders the Japanese and his fellow Godbothering Manly body-surfer Baird would suffer for it on March the 28th.

Abbott appeared on Skynews at 4.15 and submitted to an interrogation by an unfriendly Paul Kelly and Greg Sheridan, whom he was at uni with and who told him he was a ‘nice guy’ uneasily more than once. He looked edgier and creepier than usual, heavily made-up and rigorously hairdressed, apprehensive and apologetic (‘to the best of my human ability’, he said more than once) and unpleasantly smirking, as if he had just got wind of a Julie Bishop-led spill on Tuesday and feared his days were well and truly numbered, and the next one, tomorrow, was the Ides of March. He squirmed, he wriggled, he tried to be cute, he pleaded; it was a repellent, yet somehow disarming performance from what seemed a dying man. It was clear the whole thing had been got up at a moment’s notice at his behest by men who were well and truly sick of him and did not think him any more worth prime time, and so relegated him to ‘the Saturday matinee’ time slot like the Hollywood has-been he was fast becoming.

In The Australian, Pamela Williams wrote a piece on Credlin as damning, some said, as one of Demosthenes’ Philippics. ‘If she was Abbott’s Praetorian Guard,’ she wrote, pursuing a classical analogy, ‘she was also his Achilles heel.’ She wrote of Credlin upbraiding Cabinet ministers at one end of a long table while Abbott sat meekly silent at the other end of it, referring to her now and then as ‘the boss’. She was, Williams said, ‘a gatekeeper with a cleaver’.

There had not been in a Murdoch paper an assessment so contemptuous of a Liberal Party kingmaker since the last days of Billy MacMahon. ‘And so it goes,’ she concluded, in imitation of a past commentator. ‘If the narrative was about a new adult government, that message remains on hold.’

The Minister for Reconfigured Mercy, Scott Morrison, worked out a way of paying old age pensioners much, much less without upping the age at which they got the old age pension. It was adjusting the pension in line with inflation, an always dodgy calculation since it did not, for instance, include house prices or rents, and not, as now happened, adjusting it in line with the average male wage or the CPI, whichever was greater. Asked if he was indeed by this measure striving to pay pensioners much, much less, he denied it, the way he does, and fell to speaking in tongues and was thereafter difficult to comprehend.

And so it went.

The Thirty-Seven Worst Things The Liberals Did Yesterday (219)

Abbott again begged Andrews to build the East-West, and take his money for it, a billion dollars, please. Andrews said he’d promised his voters he wouldn’t, and, in his view, a notable contrast with Abbott’s, he should keep his election promises. Andrew Constance, the New South Wales Treasurer, a Liberal voter, said electricity prices would come down for ninety-nine years, but after that ‘there was no guarantee’. That was if Fred Niles let him sell, or lease, the poles and wires. Fred said he wouldn’t, leaving Baird with no money to keep his promises with.

Baird said he’d snatch the Grand Prix from Andrews, and posed in a racing driver’s scarlet suit on the front page of The Daily Telegraph. Many pages of this organ featured Baird, and only a small sneaky sliver, at the bottom of page 2, the page nobody reads, Luke Foley. Luke was promising cheaper rego and five hundred dollars for tools to trainee tradies, the which if it were known would win him the Western Suburbs. But Murdoch made sure it was not seen. Les Allen kept it invisible on page 2. This is what the Murdoch people do. They cheat.

So did Chris Uhlmann, a Liberal voter, who in the Debate kept interrupting Foley and let Baird speak unencumbered. So did the studio director, a Liberal voter, who when Foley was doing well cut to a side shot of him, and made sure the front shot had a vertical bar beside his face, which diminished what he was saying. Foley nonetheless narrowly won because Baird couldn’t say why his friend Tony Abbott had taken away billions from health and education, and wasn’t friend enough to give any of it back.

Turnbull toured Queensland, and was there acclaimed by Andrew Laming and Wyatt Roy, likely voters for him in the leadership Spill on Tuesday. It seemed more and more likely that Bishop, the Deputy, would bring it on. Editorialists were still reeling at Abbott’s mistaken labelling as ‘lifestyle’ forty thousand years of occupying holy ground.

Jake Bilardi died on Wednesday in a suicide raid, a form of capital punishment Abbott had no problem with. Yet he waited, sleepless, in his lonely bedroom for Widodo to return his call. Widodo was not keen to do this, lest this hairy klutz then talk to him for more than twenty seconds. Widodo did not wish to spend three hundred million dollars feeding and accommodating two Australian heroin pushers for sixty years, nor did he wish to feed and accommodate three Indonesian heroin pushers for four hundred million dollars through a similar period, and this seven hundred billion dollar expense was not attractive to him.

Nor was Bishop’s offer of three hundred million dollars for the heroin pushers of the first part which a subsequent administration would cancel; by Wednesday, probably. And whatever Abbott said, in his hesitant, havering, lip-smacking, lunatic way, of what Allah might in this case have preferred, peace be unto him, and what Mahomet might in a Koran sub-clause have hinted, mate, Widodo took no pleasure imagining. He would rather, on balance, never talk to this wittering fool again. There would be another in his place on Tuesday, surely. And he, or she, might have a better offer. We will take ten thousand refugees, maybe, plus two Australian drug-runners, and send back the three hundred boats we have stolen from you, or pay to replace them.

Following his New Year Resolution of ‘one goof, at least, a day’, Abbott offended the entire Irish nation and its multiplying diaspora by raising a green tie and saying it was a tie, and it was green, and this was the one day of the year when it was okay to be Green, ho ho, my little joke, and saying he was sorry couldn’t be there, on St Patrick’s Day, in Sydney, where he lived, or entertain any Irish at Kirribilli, but he felt like a Guinness, he felt like a Guinness, he felt like a Guinness or two, or three, ho ho, in the patronising manner of his ancestors, the English, for seven oppressive centuries of persecution, exploitation, famine, slave wages, bad jokes and genocide. ‘He has made more enemies than Cromwell,’ said a staggering drunk at Circular Quay, ‘and eff oi get moi hands on his t’roat oi’ll focking morrder him.’

The Liberal Party continued to put to air an ‘L-plate Luke’ ad against Foley, modelled on the ‘L-plate Latham’ ad of ten years ago which included, however, no photo or drawing or animation of Luke Foley. It was said their research showed that every time Luke’s face was seen, he won more votes. So they did the first ad of its kind in world history, of the ‘invisible enemy’. It was voted by experts ‘the worst advertisement, thus far, in human history, a Louis the Fly commercial which concealed the existence, and the appearance, of Louis the Fly.’

Baird’s bid for the Grand Prix was shown after five hours to be a hopeless idea, after Eccleston’s people said Victoria had it until 2020, and, if they wanted it, until 2025. Baird, who had already promised millions for a glamorous hot-shot campaign committee who would plan the brazen theft, was regarded by all who heard of it, including the entire Western Suburbs, whom it was aimed at, a fucking fool.

Lots of ‘accidental terrorists’ who had gone to Syria, become disillusioned by the lifestyle of the Death Cult and wanted to come home and be normal Aussie kids again were told by Abbott that if they did they would go to gaol for twenty-five years, that is three times as long as the rapist-murderer of a child. Please let us come home, they begged, or ISIS will behead us. No way, said Abbott, no way.

And so it went.

The Twenty-Eight Worst Things The Liberals Did Yesterday (215)

Poll Puts Baird Ahead Two-To-One, a mendacious Telegraph headline asserted, over news that Channel 7 viewers called the debate 56-44 for Foley, and a ReachTEL showed Baird winning with 53, a figure which, deciphered, would put Foley, probably, line-ball on 48.5. The two-to-one was a vote of the ‘undecided’ audience, chosen by Murdoch’s grovelling pollster Galaxy, which gave fifty votes to Baird, twenty-five to Foley and twenty-five to ‘undecided’; a nice way of saying ‘a tie’.

Foley said if the poles and wires were sold off, electricity prices would go up, but Baird swore they wouldn’t. ‘I’ll put in a clause,’ he said, ‘requiring the purchaser not to put up the prices. For ninety-nine years. And I’ll send him a stiff note if he does.’ Much of the audience held their sides and rocked with unstifled laughter.

Abbott cursed the United Nations for saying we tortured people. ‘They should praise us,’ he railed, ‘for sending people back into torture who might otherwise have drowned — as hundreds did under John Howard while the Navy watched regretfully the SIEV-X sinking with all hands. Any level of torture is worth it, here or in Sri Lanka, to avoid those horrific drownings.’ Asked if that included the torture of children, including midnight buggery, he said, ‘Of course. Of course. You bet it am. Better some be buggered on land than others drown at sea. You bet it am.’

Joe Hockey, suing Fairfax, said his father had ‘cried’ when he saw a headline, ‘TREASURER FOR SALE’, which he had feared, poor man, was accurate ‘after fifty years’ acquaintance with my creepy fat cheating dumb son,’ the old man grieved. It wasn’t true, Joe whined. It wasn’t true. There was a perfectly logical explanation why Sydney property developers would pay twenty-four thousand dollars to eat yum cha with the current serving Federal Treasurer, some of them more than once, ‘but I can’t think, just for the moment, what it is.’

It was believed by some backroomers that the court case was an ‘inconvenience’, nineteen days out from an election, for Premier Baird, eleven of whose MPs had been forced to resign their seats and resign, sometimes, from their party, apologising tearfully, after ICAC had loftily accused them of ‘corruption unequalled since the days of the latterday Borgias’; one of them his former leader O’Farrell over a pen he didn’t use, and a bottle of wine he couldn’t remember drinking.

Abbott encouraged Muslim women to dob in their sons and send them to gaol for twenty-five years if they found them dabbling, online, in ‘the wrong religion’. ‘Every honest mother in Team Australia would unhesitatingly do this to her son,’ he said, his eyes growing wild, and his locution hectic, to an audience in Perth now fearful of their lives, or his. Reminded we were on the side of Charlie Hebdo, and free speech, and free speech included religious doubt in adolescence, he became suffused with an uplifted inner light and abruptly shouted, ‘We will now have The Two Minutes Of Hate!’ He was quickly taken away and ‘settled down’ with Credlin’s ‘special tea’.

He then came back shouting, ‘Block your ears! Just block your ears! Don’t listen to the Death Cult! Don’t listen!’

You can’t make this stuff up.

Peter Dutton said everyone in Goulburn Prison should speak only English hereinafter. This meant Arab grandmothers unversed in that language could not speak to their grandsons at all, after travelling hundreds of miles down to see them, but only, presumably, wave at them. Asked why the fuck this was, Dutton said, ‘The grandmother might be communicating terrorist plans to her jihadist grandson, or he his to her.’ Asked why the conversations could not be recorded, and translated later, Dutton shrieked, aghast, ‘By then it might be too late!’ Asked how this rule could be enforced, he said, ‘We seize the grandmother, and beat her, if she does not comply.’

Voted ‘The Worst Health Minister In World History’ by the AMA, he was now thought by experts the second worst Immigration Minister in world history, and gaining on Morrison fast.

Julie Bishop told Germaine Greer she was unwise to bare her nipples in her earlier years, and seemed glad she had no children, who might else hinder her mobility as Foreign Minister, ‘like,’ she implied, ‘the fecund, housebound, lactating incompetent, Plibersek.’

Marcia Mikhael, a Lindt siege survivor, cursed Baird’s rogue cops for shooting her two hundred times, and said the army would have handled the whole thing better, and faster. She thought of suicide a good deal now, after nightmares in which she was paid less money. She awaited, she said, with interest, the Coroner’s final assessment of Baird’s incompetence, due out a few days before the election, in which Foley was leading narrowly already, and gaining by the hour.

$inodino$ told Alberici he had voted in the Spill to get rid of Abbott, but since then he was ‘listening more’ to his backbench, who were likelier now to interrupt him in flagrante and tell him what a lying shit he was. He would probably last, the old sly numbers man assessed, as long as his poll numbers were okay for him. A Newspoll came out immediately showing him losing fifty seats.

And so it went.

The Thirty-Three Worst Things The Liberals Did Yesterday (214)

On Skynews Joe Hockey showed evidence of brain damage by maladministered anaesthetic during the recent removal of ninety percent of his stomach, some doctors agreed. He said by 2050 ‘we would be all better off’. This included the one quarter of youth now unemployed, and probably unemployed then. It included those still paying off their 1.5 million dollar mortgages. It included those, in millions, replaced by a machine. It included women denied help by the government and murdered by their husbands.  He further added that Labor’s ‘debt and deficit disaster’ had not stalled Australia’s ‘record growth’, the second highest such growth in world history, ‘a record we should be proud of.’ He changed ‘debt and deficit disaster’ to ‘debt and deficit legacy’, to be on the safe side.

His policies, now on hold, could have balanced the Budget by 2020, he swore, but he was maybe ‘moving too fast’ and maybe 2050 was a better date. ‘In that year,’ he seemed to be saying, ‘I will be only eighty-five, and still Treasurer.’ Paul ‘Mogadon’ Kelly and Peter ‘the Choirboy’ Van Onselen looked upon his beaming daft sweaty fat visage amazed at his fucking cheek.

‘Bambi’ Baird said he would sell off the poles and wires only if Alan Fels said he could. It was entirely up to Alan, he added, to forego a huge wage and resign if he didn’t. He refusedto say if a subsequent Premier could sell the other half. It would depend on who it was, he said. He seemed surprised to hear that Keating, Kerin, Kennett, Keneally, Bligh and Newman had all lost office after privatising things, or saying they would, and that he might also suffer this common Australian comeuppance on March 28. He took thought, and changed the name of his planned crime to ‘asset recycling’ and, because it was only 49 percent, said he would ‘only put it in a little way’. Power bills would come down if he just did this little weenie sell-off, he promised, though in South Australia they doubled.

Foley promised to give back the money Abbott had taken off bruised women like Rosie Batty, the Australian of the Year. Bambi blinked, and went near tears. ‘We will get through this,’ he blubbered. ‘We will get through this.’

Claire Harvey, a Liberal voter, said she refused a kiss to a pederast when young but was ‘flattered’ to be offered it. She said, though, that Ian Paterson, a Liberal voter, was wrong to cover these things up in Knox for thirty years. Children have rights these days, she asserted, ‘and it’s a better time to be a child’ — looking forward to Pyne’s quarter million dollar degrees and paying three million including interest for a barely adequate house with wages from a job that he or she could lose at any time.

Abbott promised Bambi two billion dollars if he sold off the poles and wires. This equalled the two billion he wasn’t giving Daniel Andrews any more to build the East-West Freeway. When Foley won, and refused it also, he could spend it on looking for MH 370.

He continued to spend hundreds of thousands of dollars a day looking for MH 370 in a deep, tossing ocean the size of Queensland, the Northern Territory and Western Australia put together. ‘It might take centuries,’ he is said to have boasted, ‘but it’s important we cover up for our ally, the US, who inadvertently shot it down off Diego Garcia. Billions are needed, I know, but they can be found — by denying the dole to teenagers for six months and forcing them to accept work fellating truck drivers parked in petrol stations outside of country towns. MH 370 forever!’ he shouted, ‘and I mean forever!’ He had to be ‘settled down’, by Credlin’s special tea and ‘deep massage’.

Baird was utterly defeated in a debate with Foley which Les Allen had stacked with ‘undecideds’ chosen by roving thugs from Galaxy, a loyal Murdoch entity. During the proceedings two Daily Telegraph propagandists, Devine and Clennell, accused the Opposition Leader of ‘sixteen years of corruption’ though he had entered Parliament only six years ago and immediately sought the expulsion of the criminal Ian McDonald. Every exchange went badly for Baird, a Worm showing Foley gaining on most issues crawled across the bottom of his face, and a vote, somewhere, was taken. The compere told the TV audience that Baird had won, but it soon proved Foley had, and the numbers were not revealed at the time, nor published anywhere for a day thereafter. Murdoch, bellowing down the phone, sacked seven persons, and the Ipsos ReachTEL poll of eighty thousand New South Welshpersons of whom a thousand took the call showed, after it was deciphered by the expert analyst Bob Ellis, Labor winning in a walk.

And so it went.

The Fifty-Three Worst Things The Liberals Did Yesterday (213)

Rejoicing suffused most Labor insiders when Malcolm MacKerras predicted a Baird victory. Wrong 92 percent of the time, the daft old popinjay had this time failed to note that Tweed Heads, Ballina and Lismore were gone already though on margins of over 20 percent, and National seats were at risk everywhere because of coal seam gas plus Alan Jones plus poles and wires, and Abbott was killing the Liberal brand in the western suburbs.

Baird wept a good deal in public, the way he does, and switched his emphasis to law and order, then found Knox when run by his fellow Christian Ian Paterson was a nest of pederasts he might now have to imprison, and some of his own teachers at Kings were on a further suspect list he might have to testify against, including in a former generation Alan Jones. Nobody moreover much liked his part in the shooting with six bullets of Katrina Dawson, now a national saint, and the involvement of eleven of his MPs including O’Farrell in various levels of heinous corruption, and the many, many greyhounds being executed weekly for not being fast enough. It seemed likely, though not certain, that the Liberals, the Nationals, the LNP and the CLP were now doomed to extinction and many of their rising stars like $inodino$, Abbott, Hockey, Morrison, Brough and Pyne bound soon for gaol after Premiers Foley, Palaszczuk, Andrews and Weatherill set up Royal Commissions to probe their various local iniquities.

Desperately, the Murdochists tried to pretend Abbott, now 57, was a changed man who, after going back on the co-payment, the Billionairesses’ Baby Bonus, the submarines, the ABC, SBS and his reduced assistance to Aborigines and battered wives like Rosie Batty could be trusted never to change his mind again. ‘He’s changed,’ they asserted. ‘Though older than Julius Caesar ever got to be, he’s beginning to learn the rudiments. He’s learned his lesson. He’s changed. And he’ll never change again.’

He will however ‘have to persuade the public,’ Paul Kelly droned, that ‘our best days are ahead of us’ if we ‘live within our means’; that is he can get us back into surplus in the lifetime of Wyatt Roy’s great-grandchildren if the weather doesn’t get any worse and ISIL doesn’t buy any long range drones and blow up Martin Place and St Mary’s Cathedral and Kirribili House and Joe stays in office till he’s a hundred and fifty and no-one gets the old age pension till they’re ninety. The political alternative, that taxes go up by two percent, and five percent for the very rich, and interest made from superannuation isn’t tax-deductible would be, the old bore continued, ‘disastrous’.

On the same page Dennis Shanahan praised Abbott for going back on thirty of his broken promises including sending the New Anzacs off to conquer Mesopotamia on reduced pay and calling Peter Dutton ‘dead, buried and cremated’ and thus showing he was ‘less dogged’ and ‘more flexible’; a year, perhaps, too late. The senile Gerard Henderson did not appear in his usual space and it was rumoured that ‘a disgusted nun’ at St Vincent’s had turned off his life-support after he had, for the fifth night, confessed in a groaning dream his oft-consummated love for ‘Bob’ and ‘Dan’ and their frequent threesomes in the 1950s and there would be ‘a quiet cremation’ attended by ‘his three friends’.

…This rumour proved false. Gerard turned up alive on page 17 accusing Mark Scott of being a board member of Knox and there concealing ‘a nest of pederasty’ whilst his heathen organisation, the ABC, had gone after George Pell, ‘one of the best known Australians’, for concealing pederasty in scores of Catholic buildings in Australia over two millennia. ‘This is a double standard,’ he railed. ‘Pederasty has been covered up for thirteen hundred years in various Catholic institutions but in Knox, alas, for only thirty. I call on Chairman Jim Spigelman to apologise for this disproportion in his predecessors and yes, yes, yes, overthrow the Protestant slimeball Scott at the next board meeting.’ Spigelman, a Jew, answered wittily that ‘Mine is not an Apostolic succession.’ It is rumoured that Gerard had at this point a ‘small but significant cardiac episode’ and the nuns thereafter had been ‘doing our best to keep the poor man comfortable, but ah, begorrah, he’s fading fast.’

Warren Truss denied his government was calling off the search for MH 370 after not finding anything in three oceans in a year of relentless underwater probing and shovelling. ‘The half billion we’ve spent was worth it,’ he said, ‘and we hope, in the next year, to spend half a billion more.’ Asked if he believed that it was in fact a US fuckwit on Diego Garcia who had shot it down in mistake for a Russian missile, he said, ‘Well, that’s the first I’ve heard of it. But Tony never tells me anything. Excuse me, won’t you, I do believe that it’s time for my afternoon lie down.’

Laurie Oakes, destroyer of Whitlam and Gillard, said leaks like the ones that he had been for fifty years famed for must now stop and Abbott must be given ‘several months at least’ to regain the two million voters who hated his big lies, policy twitches, needless wars, apparent ongoing adultery and patches — like Prince Phillip’s new title — of stark lunacy. He then praised Hockey for dumping those policies that would have got us back into surplus in two decades, not five, at the same party meeting where he conclusively proved the need for them, and cursed as ‘fiscal suicide bombers’ Howard and Costello for squandering on tax cuts for the middle class good money when we had it which we could surely use now, and spend on maintaining a civilisation.

ReachTEL showed a swing to Labor of 18 percent in the Northern Territory.

And so it went.

Today’s Ipsos and Newspoll

Ipsos machines rang 80,000 voters, 1400 of whom did not hang up, on landlines which 12 percent of voters do not have, on summer nights when few under sixty were at home, and showed the Coalition on 49 and ‘closing’; that is, losing twenty-four seats not fifty.

The Palmer votes, redistributed to the Liberals, were 2 percent of this figure, and 6 percent of the ‘others’, as they were in 2013. But Palmer now favoured Labor, and the coal-seam gas threat in the regions moved many Independents’ preferences away from the Coalition. Adjusted accordingly, this meant Labor was on 55, probably, close to what Morgan, the always accurate poll, showed last week, to wit, 56.

Newspoll, a Murdoch-driven pack of lies, with data ‘weighted to reflect the population distribution of NSW’ (you bet it was), rang landlines also, and redistributed preferences in the same ancient way, and admitted ‘a maximum sampling error of 3 percentage points’ (you bet it did). Nonetheless it showed Labor ahead 45 to 36 on health, 46 to 36 on education, and 37 to 24 on climate change, indicating, in NSW, a probable narrow Labor win, or something close to it.

This outcome was supported by John Black, of Australian Development Strategies, who in The Australian recalled Newman’s LNP being on 53 at this stage in his election campaign and on 49 when he lost government three weeks later, and his seat. Black predicted a hung parliament and a Labor-Green coalition government on March 28.

These polls nonetheless prevented a challenge to Abbott this week, which helped Foley mightily. A ‘send a message to Abbott’ campaign was now in order.

A late Ipsos ‘adjustment’, not in the papers, asked Green, Independent and Palmer voters, what their preferences actually were — now, not in 2013 — and then showed Labor on 52 percent, with 130,000 more votes than the headline.

And so it went.

The Forty-Three Worst Things The Liberals Did Yesterday (209)

Newspoll, the inaccurate one, showed Labor on 46 in New South Wales. Redistributing Green preferences and Independents and Christian Democrats as they were in 2011 and not as they are now, leaning more Labor’s way, and ringing only landlines though no-one under thirty has one, and cravenly obeying Murdoch’s fumed commands on Skype, Newspoll reduced an election-winning 49 to 46, and did so before the Debate, in which Baird said there was ‘no Plan B’ for finding the money the Upper House won’t give him, and their permission to sell the poles and wires. The accurate poll Morgan showed Labor 0.6 percent away from winning only four hours before.

No apology for the headline ‘WE NEED YOU, TONY!’ appeared in the Daily Telegraph. There occurred instead in The Australian an editorial demanding Abbott stay on. ‘He can change for the better,’ it explained (you can’t make this stuff up), though ‘his personal flaws are at the centre of the present dysfunction.’ The ‘aggressive, tight, commando-style approach’ that worked well in Opposition was now at the heart of the Government’s ‘crumbling’, it went on, ‘and if he cannot fathom the true nature of his problem, he is doomed.’ Time was running out for him, it concluded, and ‘gestures just won’t cut it.’ He must sever himself from Credlin, sack Hockey, make Turnbull Treasurer, give up ‘three word slogans’, have a ‘mature debate on economic reform’, and ‘make a better fist of basic politics.’ If he does all that, he can stay on forever, and be Prime Minister in 2031.

You can’t make this stuff up. PVO (the Choirboy) advised in detail Malcolm Turnbull, his enemy, on what he must now do: give up gay marriage, embrace the Monarchy, develop the North, befriend his assassin Andrew Robb, make S&M Treasurer, keep Julie Bishop though she ratted on him last time as Deputy, make Craig Laundy Chief Whip, and put the accused embezzling bribe-taker $inodino$ in charge of policy. Turnbull must listen to this fine man, the Choirboy blithered, and accompany him, if need be, to gaol and share his cell.

You can’t make this stuff up.

S&M called ‘political bed-wetting’ his allies’ efforts to make him Treasurer, and a Daily Telegraph editorial bade them leave ‘the bickering and backstabbing to Labor’; then, in what I suppose was a farewell bicker and backstab, swore Triggs was ‘partisan’ and she must ‘walk the plank’. Please, please, don’t let Bambi lose, it gloomily, soulfully added. Don’t shoot Bambi. Please.

Jokowi said Abbott had lied about their conversation, and he he was not ‘carefully considering’ a pardon for the drug dealers. Abbott went to the cricket in Auckland and watched Australia being ignominiously beaten by New Zealand. Abbott’s Confessor Pell, a Liberal voter, was upbraided by the Pope for ‘extravagance’. Abbott hinted he might drop the GP co-payment altogether, and planned with Keys a war with a foe that might crucify and behead a good few Diggers, and mightily lose any battle they fought without a million US grunts at their back.

Baird said Abbott would be ‘welcome’ in his campaign, though internal Federal ructions were ‘never helpful’.

Abbott lost 120 votes an hour through Saturday, and Baird in osmotic sympathy lost 80 of them also, Antony Green calculated. ‘Labor has no Plan A,’ Bambi bleated; though ‘not privatising anything’ might count as one, some said, and restoring TAFE, and health funding, and universities. Like Abbott he did not realise the Liberals’ adventure was ending, and, like the UAP and the Democrats, was already pretty much in history’s dustbin with its feet sticking up, and would never be seen again, like Nooman’s LNP, and the Katter Party.

And PVO (the Choirboy) who a year ago said the Australian map would be soon ‘all blue’ was looking now at a red Queensland, a red New South Wales, a red Victoria and a red South Australia and considering the hourly shrinking limits of his future. He might serve, perhaps, more fruitfully hereinafter, as a disc jockey in Broome. Or a born-again junior cleric in the Jehovah’s Witnesses, the faith he came from.

Time slowed down, and the nation went into a stretched long moment of suspense, as it did in the last three overs of the cricket in Auckland, and for once the sluggardly epithet ‘slow-motion train wreck’ seemed appropriate.

And the questions multiplied. What would Joe Hockey, backbencher, do? What would Bronwyn Bishop, backbencher, do? With what unctious, lavish, dim-witted kindnesses would Morrison, Treasurer, strive to woo the Senate? How would Julie Bishop like her demotion to Minister for Women, and the mutinous, ropeable Turnbullite Wyatt Roy his sudden ascension to Foreign Affairs? Would Bronwyn get her own show on Skynews, alongside Hinch? Would Abbott upgrade himself, at the last moment, while resigning, to the House of Lords?

Or would he call a Double Dissolution, and like Samson bring down the whole shebang on his own head?

What would become of us all?

And so it went.

The Twenty-Nine Worst Things The Liberals Did Yesterday (208)

Ray Hadley, a Liberal voter, cursed Gillian Triggs for ‘getting political’. On the same page Simon Benson, a Liberal voter, said ‘everything is political’, including, it seemed, the repeated anal rape of children undefended by their Minister and guardian, Scott Morrison. On this one page we saw an instance of the swelling moral confusion of the Liberal Party.

Joe Hockey, the Liberals’ lame-duck Treasurer, foreboded a ‘good news Budget’, which would miraculously emerge, he said, from the addled egg of a ‘debt and deficit disaster’ and ‘the mess Labor left us’, made worse by the Senate’s intransigence; a good news Budget, he said, poof, shazam, out of nowhere.

Tony Abbott, the Liberals’ lame-duck Prime Minister, proposed a ‘new ANZAC force’ instructing in Iraq a few hundred fearful Shi-ites how to take Mosul, a great city, in the biggest battle since Berlin ’45, which it took in that year five million Russians to subdue, against an enemy that would behead and crucify them and reduce with jackhammers to chunks of marble the beautiful winged lions of Assyrian antiquity. Paul Murray agreed with Abbott that this was a good idea, though eighty percent of Australians were revolted by it, and several Anzac miniseries, about a campaign in which more men died than in Hiroshima, Nagasaki and Dresden put together, suggested they were right to be.

Abbott would be out of the country for the weekend, during which it was predicted his vote would drop to ten.

The Liberals’ lame-duck Education Minister, Christopher Pyne, told Albo, who laughed uproariously, that next Tuesday’s Spill would not take place. Fran Kelly, a Liberal voter, agreed with him, it was a ‘media-driven beat-up’, she insisted, and it would not take place. Laura Tingle, an objective commentator, said no, it was voter-driven; on doorsteps they were railing against Tony Abbott, lividly. There was a ‘policy debacle’ every other day, she added, and the leadership issue was ‘almost incidental’ to the rage across the continent against a man most thought ‘a mad, forgetful cunt’.

Michelle Grattan, a Liberal voter, said Julie Bishop had ‘fucked up’, or words to that effect, by first denying an offer had been made to Triggs and then telling the House one had. This under Westminster rules should occasion her resignation, but we were, as one wag said, ‘under Mugabe rules now’; and it seemed that she, not Turnbull, might be herself PM by Tuesday afternoon.

Luke Foley debated Mike Baird in the Olympic Stadium, and was doing so well that the broadcaster, Skynews, pasted over his face a wide shot of Maoris dancing in a threatening manner at a tired and blinking Prime Minister in another latitude and country, an image that persisted for seven minutes; Murdoch cheats, discuss, he knows no other way. Despite this, Foley routed the apelike, twitching, gloomy Baird, who amazed his minders by admitting he had ‘no Plan B’, and he did not have the numbers to get his privatisation through the Upper House, and without his privatisation he had ‘no money’. He would not be drawn on whom he favoured, his good friend Abbott or his testy acquaintance Turnbull, as the nation’s next leader, or whom he was betting on. He was incensed with Abbott, he blithered, for cutting twenty-one billion out of health and education in New South Wales, and said he was ‘trying every day’ to make him change his mind. Good luck with that, Foley said.

Channel 7 revealed there were now ten Ministers who wanted Abbott to go. Julie Bishop called any rumoured plan to disgorge him from the leadership, like a bad oyster, ‘a hypothetical question’. She seemed narked that it was Turnbull, not she, that had the numbers. All observers agreed that he would be rolled, and possibly she, on Tuesday morning, if he did not step down by then.

A Morgan Poll (the accurate one) came out showing Labor within 0.6 percent of winning New South Wales. This was taken before Foley creamed Baird (Mr No Plan B) in the first of two debates. It showed Baird had lost 140,000 votes in the previous two weeks, and, hour by hour, while Abbott stayed in office, was losing more.

In New Zealand Abbott was asked if this was his last overseas tour as Prime Minister. He looked wistful, and said the Prime Ministership was the gift of the people AND the party room, and for as long as that glad gift was his, for as long as he was possessed of it, he was ‘getting on with the job’.

And so it went.

Today’s Newspoll

We are told by this Newspoll that four hundred thousand Labor voters went over to the Liberals in the last fortnight. Do you know any of these people? Can you name, dear reader, even one?

This was the fortnight when Abbott attacked Gillian Triggs and threatened the Indonesians, when he was cursed by the Lindt hostages for not taking their calls, when Baird’s vote fell sharply and Palaszczuk was sworn in as Premier of Queensland, a state that Labor was expected not to hold again till 2025.

Do you know any of these people? Can you name even one? The reason you don’t, and can’t, is that poll, that Newspoll, has been…oh yes…contrived. Let me, wearily, once again, tell you why.

It was taken on landlines, which twenty percent of all voters don’t have any more, on a hot weekend, when only octogenarians were home. It rang no mobiles, and texted none. Fewer and fewer people under forty have landlines. Even fewer use them. The difference, according to Morgan, which gets elections right, is about 1.2 percent more seeming votes to the Liberals than actual votes. Morgan got Queensland right. Newspoll got it wrong.

Next, it redistributes Palmer’s, and Katter’s, and what might be called the Windsor Independents’ preferences the way they were in 2013. Katter and Palmer now favour the ALP. The Windsor Independents now favour them a little more. This difference adds 1.5 more percent to Labor’s numbers.

These two factors mean Labor’s primary vote goes up to 41, and the Coalition’s down to 35. And this means in turn the Liberals’ vote is about 28. This is very low.

On top of this is the ‘sampling error’ of 3 percent. Let us imagine that this was 1.8 percent the Liberals’ way. This puts the Liberals’ vote down to, probably, 26.3 percent.

These figures, though, depend on those phone calls made on a hot weekend to octogenarians by Newspoll, Murdoch’s engine of measurement. These craven statisticians said the LNP was ‘bound to win, with a reduced majority’ in Queensland; and the Liberals out right in South Australia. It is now saying, not that it matters, that Abbott is ‘arrogant’ (77 percent) and trails Shorten by 30 to 62 on health and 33 to 53 on education, yet ‘cares for people’ (55 percent). Arrogant, hopeless on health, yet ‘cares for people’. Really?

These figures make no sense at all. And it is wrong for Fran Kelly to quote them, though they got Queensland wrong, and never quote Morgan, which got it right, every fortnight of her life, and never, ever question them.

It is time she were investigated for bias, and, if guilty, replaced by Jonathan Green or James Carleton.

She would be sure to get a place on Skynews the day after.

The Twenty Worst Things The Liberals Did Yesterday (204)

In Question Time Abbott said, or rather shouted, ‘You just can’t trust Labor with Australia’s defences!’ He had repressed, it seemed, or in boxing-induced brain damage omitted to remember, that Labor had won World War 1, and World War 2, and the Gulf War, while the Liberals had lost the Korean War, the Vietnam War, and the twin debacles Iraq and Afghanistan where the killing continues today at a rate that outscores, even now, those wars’ beginnings and had never won a war in their history. They had also, lately, failed to find, at a cost of a half billion dollars, MH 370 in three oceans or to drive the Russians out of the Ukraine or stop a hundred DAISH jihadists raised here from continuing to collect, while over there, beheading infidels, our social services. He was cutting these social services off very soon, he assured us. Very, very soon. Trust me. Very, very soon. It was wrong, he added, that our tax dollars funded terrorism. You bet it am.

Earlier in the day, he had called a press conference. And at this press conference he said, in effect, ‘In the past hundred years, one Australian has died on our soil from terrorist activity. This is one four thousandth of the number of women and children killed by violent ex-husbands and brutal fathers in that same period of time, and it is a number we will not tolerate. We will spend a billion dollars, or more, making sure this number does not, ever — never ever — swell to two. And we will cut by half the miserable pittance we have already foolishly spent on failing to help Luke Batty, and his mother Rosie, the Australian of the Year, and four thousand like them, avoid murder at the hands of their close relatives, their life partners, their one-night stands. We’ve got our priorities right! And so have the New South Wales Police, who have killed, in the past three months, four times the number terrorists have killed in a hundred years! Let’s hear it for the New South Wales Police! Hip hip!’

Seven ministers who voted for Abbott in the Spill said they wouldn’t vote for him now. This if added to the South Australians he betrayed with the submarines meant the anti-Abbott vote was 49, three short of overthrowing him and putting Turnbull in. The Liberal Party Treasurer, Phil Higginson, said he would resign if either Credlin or Loughnane — who, he had just discovered, were married to each other — did not pack up and leave, and he did resign. Abbott called him ‘a storm in a teacup’ and Paul Bongiorno said, ‘Well, it’s a pretty big teacup’.

Newspoll, fraudulently, said the Coalition had picked up four hundred thousand Labor votes in Abbott’s worst fortnight, though no-one could name even one of these changelings, and it seemed, once again, that Murdoch, once again, had done what he always does, to wit, give the Liberals ‘paradoxical’ good figures (Simon Benson in The Daily Telegraph called them ‘miraculous’) when they seemed to be going down for the third time.

Fran Kelly, a Liberal voter, rejoiced at the good Newspoll, and effusively told Plibersek, in her liveliest champagne-breakfast manner, that Shorten was doing it all, all wrong, though he still led Abbott by 43 to 38 as better Prime Minister and had led him for a year, a world record. Some thought it was time Fran’s sanity was investigated but others said, ‘Nah. She’s just keeping her job.’

Keeping up his New Year Resolution of ‘one goof, at least, a day’, Abbott cursed most Muslim leaders for ‘not being anti-Muslim enough’ in his National Security speech while praising Assissi, who had locked up Greste, and Abdul Razak, who favoured Sharia Law, as ‘freedom lovers, my kind of heathen, good Muslims, hip hip’; and later, in Question Time, admitted he had indeed planned a shooting war with Russia, the country which had won World War 2 by killing in pitched battle twelve million of its own folk and burning Germany to the ground, in order to retrieve some corpses whom the, oops, Ukrainians had shot down in a wheat field near Donetsk. This raised the number of goofs, this day, to four, which his party room, head in hands, called ‘about average’.

TONY BACK IN THE GAME, The Daily Telegraph said, in the font in which it had bayed WE NEED YOU, TONY eighteen months ago.

And so it went.

The Twenty-Eight Worst Things The Liberals Did Yesterday (201)

Seemingly unable to grasp what ‘innocent under the law’ meant, Piers Akerman, a Liberal voter, called Hicks a ‘foul piece of scum’ who ‘ticked all the boxes for the latte lovers in need of a frisson of danger’, and ‘an avowed anti-Semite too’, and that ‘innocence’ was not ‘true innocence’ in his deep Christian view. He, Akerman, thus exposed himself as a serial cyberbully liable to five years’ imprisonment under a Foley or an Andrews government, and a widely detested serial slanderer who owed Hicks three hundred and forty thousand dollars, plus costs, that Murdoch might not, in his dotage, be any longer keen to pay.

Julie Bishop, a Liberal voter, told Abbott he had ‘fucked up her chances’ of saving Chan and Sukumaran by threatening Widodo with ‘retribution’ if they died. She had nearly organised a trade of ten people smugglers for two drug smugglers, certain insiders whispered, when Abbott, aka The Loaded Dog, said what he said.

Morrison, aka Mr Cuddles, proposed a great proportion of baby sitting costs would be paid by the government to those who needed this, but said it would ‘have to come out of other things.’ Labor said he had better give back the billion dollars they had cut from child care first. It was possible, however, that a deal might arrived at, and Hockey would have to resign. But…he was going anyway.

Abbott, hearing their were storms and floods in Queensland and the Northern Territory, flew immediately to Tasmania, where there weren’t, and there, on a hillside, said we were being ‘played for mugs’ by terrorists, whom he would combat henceforth with fiercer and fiercer laws. Reminded that beheading people was already against the law, and so was blowing them up, and holding them hostage, and speaking harshly against another group of people, he said, ‘Go fuck yourself.’

On Skynews, Cameron and Keneally asked Sam Maiden, a Liberal voter, if Abbott would survive until the next election. She frowned and opened her mouth, and the studio director immediately cut to storm news in the Northern Territory, and she was never able to answer. ‘A little voice in my head,’ Cameron explained, ‘said I mustn’t ask that.’

Andrews announced that the Swedes, who had offered to build the whole thing for twenty billion in Adelaide, would not be allowed to make an offer, but the Japanese, who would charge twice as much and build the submarines elsewhere, yet allow some spare parts to be made here, were ‘on the list’. It was essential, he implied, that our ‘traditional beheaders’ get all our money and spend it in countries other than our own, because of the ‘skill’ and ‘honour’ with which they had sunk the Manly Ferry in 1942, an achievement close to Abbott’s heart. It was the biggest contract in our history, and a nod and a wink and a lie was the appropriate way to deal with it, Abbott decided. ‘What is needed now,’ he said, nodding and winking, ‘is a captain’s call.’

Sharri Markson, a Liberal voter, said Hicks ‘should spend the rest of his life in gaol’ and what he went through in Guantanamo was ‘nothing like torture’. He had ‘trained with an army that wants to kill us,’ she fumed, and he deserves everything he gets. Her rule of thumb would put away for life most of the original winegrowers of South Australia, and many an elderly Japanesre restaurateur, and many a Cabramatta Vietnamese. Hicks’s lawyers added her name to their list of those he could sue for three hundred and forty thousand dollars, plus costs. And Chris Kenny, who egged her on.

And so it went.

The Twenty-Four Worst Things The Liberals Did Yesterday (199)

Barnaby Joyce, an LNP voter, cursed those Greens and ‘animal activists’ and ABC reporters who filmed rabbits, piglets and a baby possum being pursued and eaten by greyhounds owned by criminals and so trained, illegally, and so used, illegally, in their loathesome, bloodstained quest for tens of millions of dollars. The rabbit-abusers were lawless men, he admitted, but so were their pursuers, exposers and whistle-blowers, and they should be ‘ashamed of themselves’. It was Barnaby who in similar vein cursed Sarah Ferguson for her documentary on the cruel cattle-slaughterers of Indonesia, whose ‘privacy’, he said, had been ‘violated’.

Morrison swore, and swore, and swore again that the government were not putting the family home in the assets test of people who sought the old age pension. This was after Hockey’s office admitted they were ‘considering it’. It would mean that those who had bought in Paddington, say, for three thousand pounds in 1963 a tenement now worth 1.7 million dollars would never, never get the old age pension though they had worked as a nurse and a brickie for forty-five years and put their two kids through university. This was ‘not on our agenda’, said the man who said he had ‘stopped the boats’ though two had set out in December, ‘trust me.’

‘He’s lying,’ said Hockey, ‘trust me.’

Miranda Devine, a Liberal voter, accused of ‘flagrant self-promotion’ Malcolm Turnbull, a Liberal voter, who ‘shot himself in the foot,’ she hissed, ‘with self-love’ and ‘lost it’ on Q&A on Monday. This followed her previous attack on Abbott and an email, probably, from her evil, crumbling, senile guru Murdoch threatening to halve her wage. Though Abbott had lost the affection of three million Liberal voters he retained that of Murdoch, it seemed, for at least a few more days, and he would gain a well-paid gig on Skynews when he was overthrown on Thursday next, or probably Monday, by a party room now heartily sick of his ‘goof a day’.

His new nickname, ‘The Loaded Dog’, took hold.

It used to be ‘Mr People Skills’.

Tim Wilson, a Liberal voter, said Gillian Triggs had written an excellent report on the buggering of children on Manus Island. Asked if he agreed with his Prime Minister that it was a ‘blatantly political stitch-up’, he said he would not say what private discussions he’d conducted with his committee or his leader. Asked how thirty-two cases of child sex abuse was a matter for ‘private discussion’, he smiled broadly and said, ‘Go fuck yourself.’

It was revealed that Jamie Briggs, a Liberal voter, planned soon to overthrow the government of Norfolk Island, and deprive its two thousand people of their democratic independence much like General Galtieri with a like-sized population in the Falkland Islands in 1981 prior to a shooting war between Britain and Argentina on Goose Green and other sacred killing fields. There were protests from its one hundred and forty-years old government, which predated Australia’s, and had been the first on earth to give women the vote, in 1898, and had only sometimes been part of the Australian Federation, belonging at different times to the United Kingdom, New South Wales and a fiend called Turton.

‘A state of war now exists between us,’ said a member of that government, Alice Adams, on Radio National at 3.40 pm. Abbott replied that he ‘had no more territorial demands’, and ordered our gunships prepare for ‘on-water matters’ which he was ‘powerless to detail’; and referred our nation’s defence to ‘Sir’ Angus Houston, presently celebrating his ‘knighthood’ in an Amsterdam cathouse where, at an earlier hour, he had called Tony Abbott a ‘fucking idiot’ for ‘making me invade Indonesia.’

Sussan ‘Bubbles’ Ley said she was contemplating a ‘multi-tiered co-payment system’ for doctors’ visits, then hiccupped, wriggled her nose and said she wasn’t. ‘Excuse me, won’t you,’ she added, ‘I just need a teensy-weensy little…lie-down,’ and began to snore. The widespread rumours of ‘magnum champagne breakfasts’ for this new Minister were, her office, hiccupping, claimed, ‘exaggerated’. She drank two bottles of Veuve Clicquot a day, they admitted, plus ‘assorted cocktails, spirits and vintage white wines with meals’, but ‘nothing before 9 am.’

Abbott reminded Widodo of the billion our country had given his country at the time of the tsunami, and his office, bridling, said he ‘didn’t respond well to threats’ and it was said he had put his navy on Red Alert. Abbott’s ‘one goof, at least, a day’ New Year Resolution had once again been affirmed.

His second goof, in Queensland, where he was extremely unwelcome, and citizens turned away and vomited at his approach, was to announce he would charge the nation four hundred million dollars to spy on it, recording its ‘metadata’ but not reading its private emails. This sum would keep fifty small theatres going for a thousand years on the interest alone, or build eight hundred special dwellings for the disabled every year, or keep Holden in the country, and therefore every auto company, for the next ten years. ‘It’s worth it,’ said Abbott. ‘It’s worth it. We spy on you, and you pay. And you pay up big. We spy. You pay.’

And so it went.