WHAT PONGS? ARE WE IN QUEENSLAND?


Rudd’s heritage of having decent parents and an open, trusting heart is not good material for mixing with silent hate-merchants, the enemies who hate innate pleasantness. The thing is, you don’t even know they hate your guts or why.

Dear Honourable Drongos of George Street, if God was dinkum the entire inner sanctum of your Thugs and Looters club would be having rocks and jeers pelted at you as the tumbrel bundles you to a Foucault discipline.

In the Federal Capital, a similar ceremony is under way to contain a rapid expansion in the rodent population but two hurdles present worries; difficulty in sourcing enough execution transport, with the major impediment being an absolute absence of an unknown Canberra commodity known elsewhere as spine. It is a requirement to support limp malevolent Senate shit on a final journey.

While the Fed. rats await their deserved fate, they might well be obliged to watch the dismemberment of their State plotting mates. In another era, four of their equivalents copped time for much milder indiscretions. It is very convenient for today’s Cabinet crooks that 30 years will elapse before the mechanism that could have slotted these arseholes will be known.

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