By Grumpy Geezer
The asinine ScoMo brand, daggy dad from next door, is no longer fit for purpose.
In the absence of any insight, imagination, empathy or ethics it was always going to happen; the real Scott Morrison has been fully exposed. His tissue thin credibility has fallen away to reveal the dodgy product beneath – a gutless grub, a deceitful charlatan, a sideshow spruiker and conman.`
Scott Morrison’s risible self-marketing as ScoMo the daggy dad from next door is about to be abandoned. Crises are a true test of character and our sausage-sangered, beer kneckin’ football groupie has been found wanting. When your house has burned down or your struggling sports club’s bid for some much needed funding is guzumped by some silvertail’s desire for a tax-payer funded cigar lounge for his badminton courts then the last thing you want is a smarmy, smirking, piss-stained twat in a cap invading your personal space for a photo-op.
There are now many places in Australia where “ScoMo” would be ridden out of town on a rail so it’s time for another re-branding.
What will the lickspittles, myrmidons, grooms of the stool, empathy consultants and PR spivs come up with now? What is to be the next personality to be adopted by the shape-shifting FauxMo? How will they package a coward who abandons the country to the fires and blames his own kids, a porch climber who burgles $100,000,000 of our money to underwrite his election campaign?
With whatever credibility he ever had now in tatters the grinning galoot cannot be seen near a sporting field without inviting derision, nor can he again flee his responsibilities in a crisis. The rorting of public money to benefit himself and his cronies will continue of course, as will the destruction of the environment – it’s in the Tory DNA; they see elected office as a treasure hunt. So new disguises will be sought for the L/NP’s behaviours. Disaster capitalism will be branded as disaster mitigation, scapegoats will be fingered, whistle-blowers will be pursued with renewed vigour, and the spiders web of conflicted interests will be hidden behind spurious confidentiality clauses and labyrinthine corporate structures.
Rehearsed gravitas in the form of a stern-faced, take charge kinda guy pointing at maps; the authoritative figure at the head of the table surrounded by sycophants; feigned empathy dressed in chinos accessorised from R.M.Williams for the “staring thoughtfully into the distance with farmer” photo-ops; a practised choke in the voice and a work-shopped wiping away of a pretend tear – this is the fakery we will be confronted with as FauxMo tries to re craft his “personal brand” and rescue his true, facile self from further scrutiny.
There’ll be no more cringe-worthy eulogising of cricketers as our true national heroes, the baseball caps will be mothballed, beer will be guzzled away from the cameras, the happy will be clapped behind closed doors. Despite these efforts the real Morrison will continue to bob to the surface. His punchable smirk will only ever be a glib, self-satisfied phrase away, his indignation at being queried and his barely concealed patronising contempt at being challenged will resurface – it’s who he is and he won’t be able to hide it.
This Artful Dodger has as much substance as a snowman in a hot tub, and is so bereft of imagination he couldn’t carry a stick through an open door. He leads an effluvium of Stasi, water thieves, tree poisoners, suplhorous wazzocks, dupes, loons, dangleberries, owner-operators, gowks, touts, sluggards and grifters – the type of people who have kids as potential organ donors for their old age and many of whom anticipate a lucrative, post-politics career plucking Gina Reinhart’s chin hairs.
No amount of re-imaging, spin, deflection, dissembling, humbug and lying can cover up for this nightsoilsman and his noisome product. The lights have come on for all but the toadies, the feckless dullards, the stupid and the deplorable. And all it took was the country in flames and the brazen, unapologetic theft of $100M.
ScoMo as a product has been recalled. Now we await the same fate for Scotty From Marketing (i) who invented him.
* * * * *
Trivia: Liar From The Shire is an anagram of Holier Shit Farmer.
(i) “Scotty From Marketing” is a clever neologism from the Betoota Advocate.
This article was originally published on The Grumpy Geezer.
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