OF GEORGE STREET POX AND GEORGE ORWELL.



“If you give me six lines written by the most honest of men, I will find something in them which will hang him.”

Cardinal Richelieu got a bad press, but to get the pox at age 20 means he couldn’t have been all that bad. A more recent and relative quote came from the esteemed Queensland Premier, a very considerate lady who cares for you if you are an active participant of her Looter and Thug Executive Club who gives the third estate the finger and embraces the fourth to fool the former with bridge runs and firework shows.

Was reassuring to see students getting cranky with the Rat Queen. If Abbott can’t roll this unctuous manipulator, he could try another job. The arguments the Canberra filth throw up! Who give’s a rat’s ear if Rudd sent his lad to a meeting. The bureaucrat would be more au fait in any case. And if you care about Queen Rats climate hogwash, playing on the road is your best shot.

Rudd’s celebratory November night in Brisbane heralded his downfall because of Bligh’s clinging and gushing put him in an untenable position and he was too polite to give a fellow local the flick. I remember an excited and garrulous Premier praising and thanking oldies for their life-long contribution to their country and am now curious at how the Housing Department translates such a blessing into contempt for the older renter, unless one is an active fifth column dobber. Let us not forget though, only a dimwit would hang on to the thoughts and promises of a semi-literate.

The Queen of the Rats admires the pensioner’s integrity. Gee, early spin, I must give her my vote. I hope she reminds us on the evening of 21 August of our virtues. The offensive and venal Bligh doesn’t remind us often enough of our unforgettable contribution to the nation and I tend to forget.

As the older residents of this pensioner-intended Government flat precinct fall off the perch, they are replaced by lazy and fiftyish, anti-social, mobile-phone obsessed idiots. The latest morbidly obese crazie sits on her veranda pre-dawn scooping porridge into her maw between screaming into her phone. She is engaging the only asset she has and knows…her rank stupidity. Her very presence and mien has one wondering if she is not Myra Hindley reincarnated who will resume gnawing into a baby’s corpse after the porridge.

During the day she will prop outside my flat ditto. I reminded her of the 50 unfenced acres surrounding us which must have a good reception spot somewhere. ” Go get a life , ya so and so,” she kindly advised. This is a preferred tenant, who moved in at 10 P.M. with a loud party of gomeral assistants, leaving the diesel running for the duration of the unloading.

Another preferred and hallowed tenant is my immediate nasty up-wind neighbour who arrived with the arse out of his pants and, with an accomplice, unloaded his dusty donated furniture. Within hours the continuous cigarette smoking had stunk-out and polluted bedding and clothes. He is a carte blanche hero who has a Housing Commission contact for whom information is invented if the truth is too ho-hum. Garble bummed around the country as a Viet. apologist for forty years dining on “poor me” sympathy.

After reading a few Reader’s Digest self-improvement books became an intellectual and a wise sage. The Beaudesert rsl franchise give him work driving medical cases to appointments for the ambulance service. The supplied sedan air-con stinks badly of nicotine tar, but it’s a hero’s tar and the complaints of afflicted patients are down-played.

A request to redirect this fellows constant cigarette smoke is meet with remarks like,” Why don’t you just move out?” Hero is another telephone abuser who doesn’t need a phone. From time to time he makes loud phantom calls from his bathroom which abuts mine and has a need to impress me, I imagine, in the expectation I might think him important, or even to give himself an ego trip. Whatever it is, very little surprises me after 70 years.

What surprises me somewhat though, is my retard status. I wasted time and effort to attend a tenant’s union meeting to raise several issues, but especially to see if I could get a tenant reps look on cigarette smoke issues. ” I am here to keep you informed on what is happening in the world, but especially to let you know how to save on electricity. Can’t help you with cigarette smoke.” Is that not a nonsense? This Joke named Jean is more State Government wastage and the so-called union is fully Government financed and operated. An organisation as useless as the Electrical Trades Union.

I proposed to this Government stooge how installing c.c.cameras at own expense for day-time surveillance of my two verandas when the chances of contact with the mental hero was high and got the same response as when I mooted locating smoker’s flats downwind to non-smokers places of abode. Offensive To Smokers; Offensive To Thugs.

The inescapable trio is prominent in Beaudesert. The police, the tainted rsl and the Ministry for More Homelessness. Offend one, you offend all. The quite living and considerate dweller like the writer is reviled for refusing to capitulate to the values of troglodytes.

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