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Going for gold in the Bastard Olympics

Australia likes to think of itself as punching above its weight, particularly in the sporting realm. Hence, the tortured metaphor of this sledge.

There’s plenty of international competition for the top of the medal count for outstanding achievement in bastardry so how does our own contingent of awfulness stack up against the might of Team USA led by a ludicrous, tangerine blowhard and Team UK who’s grooming a dishevelled, bloated smurf as their Chef de Mission?

The cheer squad

Firstly, our team’s support crew needs to be acknowledged. We wouldn’t be as competitive without the toadies, leg-humpers and bag-carriers in the media and on the parliamentary backbenches who have put so much effort into bolstering those hucksters and bag snatchers who have a legit claim to a place on the podium.

Paul Kelly. Editor at large and point man for the e.coli orchestra of News Corpse bloviators – Bolt, Devine, Albrechtesen et al without whom the Lying Nasty Party could not have fielded a full team.

Alan Gloria Jones. An over-stayer in London public facilities whose impending damnation to lakes of eternal fire has not quietened his flatulent blatherings in support of bigots and homophobes. Alan will keep a close eye on the team.

Mathias Corman. Turned out like a pox doctor’s clerk the dapper Vibble Vobble would enjoy nothing more than taxing the discount lunch vouchers at a home for orphaned waifs.

The prolapsed palindrome Erik Otto Abetz, a Tasmanian Uriah Heep whose descent into irrelevance has not yet taken full effect.

Craig Barge Arse Kelly, a resident of the $1Shop discount bin. With speaking notes provided to him in crayon and monosyllables and with free sausage rolls to hand Barge Arse’s ruddy-faced, sideline cheering for neo-con dogma will remain enthusiastically incoherent.

While boosting a dodgy Indian mining billionaire as a Little Aussie Battler, Matt King Coal Canavan still found time to push his own mother under a bus when his lack of compliance with paperwork came under scrutiny. That level of committed nastiness requires acknowledgement.

Gorgeous George Christensen whose study of the demographics of shady Filipino neighbourhoods has contributed to the cultural exchange with our northern neighbour. Gorgeous George’s ten pin shaped presence on the back-bench bleachers provides an incentive for the A Team, reminding them of the talent available should they drop their game.

The Standbys

Barnaby Barnyard Juice Joyce. The slowest tadpole pulled a Bradbury when barmy Barnyard was conceived.

With his purple majesty tucked back into his trousers for the time being, Barny thinks he’s match fit but he lacks the required intellect to go about milking a portfolio for personal profit without being noticed. BJ is likely to remain on the sidelines for a while yet.

Black Angus Taylor (the “g” is silent). A rampaging free-marketeer nevertheless with a knack for attracting government grants. Black Angus has a fondness for the public coin underwriting his commercial endeavours*.

The Ginger Whinger, so dense that time stands still in her presence, Pauline Hanson’s control of her mental faculties is a tad looser than that exercised over her self-interests.

The A team

Someone has peed in our gene pool.

George Pell. Self-righteous, elitist kiddy-fiddler and felon who, deservedly, has a reach-around from Bubba awaiting his assignment of a cell buddy. This most egregious of shoe scrapings is held to be a fine man by two Liberal Party ex-PMs – one their exalted role model, the other their best ever Leader Of The Opposition. Nothing more need be said about the standards and ethos of the Lying Nasties.

Israel Falau. Supplementing his millions with donations diverted from sick kids, Falau is a fellow traveller of the prosperity-gospelling hypocrites camouflaging their greed and selfishness with customised godliness.

Spud-Dutton. A limited repertoire from Spud, but he’s reliable with his set piece of “murderous, raping refugees”. His deadpan delivery flatfoots the opposition every time.

Mike Pezzulo. Head goon at the Despot Depot, no one can pen a threatening letter to an elected member of parliament in lyrical prose quite like our very own swarthy bard. Pezzulo is a putsch in search of a beer hall.

Rupert Murdoch. Evil incarnate, a hobgoblin with a face like a melted wellie. This risible, two-legged, flange-headed, dead-souled sinkhole of all things decent has the fetid stench of his putrefaction poisoning everything within its waft. It’s no coincidence that the two English speaking countries that are outside his malevolent reach, NZ and Canada, are now the only two with a sense of decency in their governments.

Rupert Murdoch! Gold! Gold for Australia!

He may have American citizenship but the Dirty Digger is one of ours.

This is the team you barracked for Australia; you pay the price of admission. I’m going out the back to hide in the shed.

This article was originally published on geezerspot.com.


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  1. Phil Pryor

    What a festivity of filth, a circus of circular sore sphincters, soiled and stained, human excrement posing as typing turds for the yellow fevered and gutted yank of yabbering and yelling vile vomit in print. Murdoch’s madarse mischievous typing turds are uncivilised, undereducated, indecent, insincere and in our effing faces, threatening and coercing dills, deviates, deficients and drongos. Poop.

  2. Phil

    Why so much praise for our politicians? Very strange.

  3. Phil

    Just a thought. Why didn’t the Jerk with the Smirk a Harley St Plastic Surgeon couldn’t remove, get a guernsey in the team?

    I wonder what Shakespeare would have made of it all?

    He would have been the first to introduce the world to satire. “Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.”

  4. New England Cocky

    Roy Masters, “Bit asset rich for Folau to cry poor”, SMH 250619, p1,8. (Abstracted, not on website).

    Folau appears to have on-going self-interest as the motive for his football career across three codes, NRL, AFL and Rugby.

    He started at the Melbourne Storm on $35,000 per season that has risen to $1 MILLION and he has accumulated a property portfolio worth more than $7 MILLION, all before the age of 30.

    Folau and his father own nine (9) properties, but in fairness the Polynesian cultural obligation for successful athletes to provide accommodation for family must be recognised.

    Folau joined Melbourne Storm on a $35,000 per season contract in 2007 then was offered $350,000 following a sensational season. Yet by March 2009 he joined the Brisbane Broncos on a deal reported to be between $400,000 and $500,000 per year. He was allegedly ‘homesick’.

    In October 2008 Folau purchased a $350,000 Boronia Heights Brisbane property for his family.

    In 2010 he rejected a two year option with the Broncos to consider a $3 MILLION contract with Melbourne Rebels (ARU) before signing with the AFL expansion club Greater Western Sydney for $1 MILLION per season, although the Broncos claimed that the deal was $6 MILLION over four years.

    In 2010 Folau Investments purchased a four bedroom house in Kellyville (NW Sydney near Windsor) for $773,000.

    At the end of the 2011 AFL season Folau had an epiphany moment and departed the Mormon Church to join the Assembly of God at a church where his father was pastor. His AFL career had produced two (2) goals.

    In December 2012 Folau departed the AFL to join the NSW Waratahs for the 2013 season and agreed to play Rugby for the Red Hurricanes in Japan for $700,000 a year, which was frustrated by an ankle injury and the Hurricanes relegation.

    In March 2015 Folau purchased an investment property at Stanhope Gardens in the Hills District (adjacent NW Sydney) for $1,050,000.

    In June 2015 Folau purchased a Kenthurst property (adjacent NW Sydney) as his principal residence for $2.1 MILLION.

    In December 2016 Folau paid $1.12 MILLION for a total of three (3) blocks of land at Austral (SW Sydney).

    In December 2016 Folau purchased a one (bedroom?) unit apartment at Little Bay (Maroubra) for $960,000.

    Over his career, Folau has received multiple sponsorships but his recent homophobic outburst cost him the remaining Land Rover and Asics deals plus the Salteri family Australian Sports Foundation financial support to the ARU.

    So, with three (3) years left on a contract frozen at $1 MILLION a season, his income was flat-lining, unless he could secure a significant payout and a lucrative overseas contract.

    The cyber-begging site he established had raised enough to meet his legal bills when it was closed down but a condition of the campaign was donors having no right to question how the money was acquitted.

    What are the odds any surplus would have been used to buy another property?

  5. Kaye Lee

    Matt King Coal is as good as David Tyler’s J Edgar Tuber.

    You people make me laugh

  6. Grumpy Geezer

    J Edgar Tuber is genius. Had me guffawing out loud when i first read it.

    Jerk with the Smirk is pretty good Phil.

  7. Geoff Andrews

    Grumpy, I’m disappointed.
    I thought I was going to read one of your usual biased, hilarious, satirical piss-takes but all I got was facts.

  8. Grumpy Geezer

    I was in documentary mode Geoff.

  9. Keitha Granville

    Love the characterisations, you people are so clever.

    Any room in your shed ? I’d like to hide too.

  10. Henry Rodrigues

    Touche,Grumpie !!!!

  11. New England Cocky

    AW c’mon folks ….. why about “Scat Morriscum” abbreviated to Scummo by many …..

  12. Grumpy Geezer

    Keep the entries coming, Cocky.

  13. Spindoctor

    And these cretins were voted back in? And they’re back into their and their farmer and miner mates snouts in the trough already and we’ve got another term before hopefully they self immolate

  14. Max Gross

    Thank you, thank you from the bottom of my broken heart for inciting guffaws I haven’t raised since 18 May. Sharp as razor and as effective as a guillotine.

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