The bastards from the bush

Grumpy Geezer

3 years ago

The rustic oiks bent Scooter over a pork barrel

The Bastard From The Bush – selected extracts

So they took him to their hide-out, that Bastard from the Bush, And they gave him all the privileges belonging to the Push; But soon they found his little ways were more than they could stand, And finally the Captain thus addressed his little band:

“Now listen here you buggers, we’ve caught a f’ing tartar; At every kind of bludgin’ that bastard’s got the starter, At poker and at two-up he shook our f’ing rules, He swipes our f’ing liquor and he knobs our f’ing girls.”

They sprang upon him in a bunch, but one by one they fell, With crack of bone, unearthly groan and agonizing yell, Till the sorely battered Captain, spitting teeth and coughing blood, Held an ear all torn and bleeding in a hand bedaubed with mud.

“You low polluted bastard,” snarled the Captain of the Push, “Get back to where you come from, that’s somewhere in the bush, And I hope that vile misfortune may tumble down on you, May some lousy harlot dose you, till your bollocks turn sky blue.

Attributed by some to Henry Lawson.

‘Nice re-election campaign you’re planning. Shame if anything happened to it‘ said the Bastard from the Bush to the Captain of the Push. With a head made from a long-abandoned jack-o’-lantern, teeth like leper’s toes and the breath of a brewhouse spittoon the florid fornicator’s threats to shoot himself in the head carried a tone of crazed believability. Captain Scooter caved. After all it was just the extortion of billions more of other people’s money – National Party tradition and Liberal Party habit. An easy price to pay for a veneer of coalition unity. The great carbon con was agreed – taxpayers would fund more carbon, energy inefficiency and obsolescence and it’d be sold back to them as rainbows while Scooter printed the brochures to hand out at his stall at COP26.

The ‘hic’ from the sticks Barking Barmy Joyce struggles to keep under .05 – net zero is a concept that defeats his limited capacities. The economic, environmental and social opportunities of clean energy are beyond the sales skills of the country’s “best retail politician”. But pork and grift speak to Barmy, the spin could be finessed by more gifted charlatans while he and his fellow Nat trogs performed for their climate criminal sponsors and donors.

Selling the past as the future has fallen to a select few within Barmy’s circle jerk:

Gorgeous George Christensen is a big-talking nobody, yet with a wide profile to maintain – hence the intake of pies, cream buns and conspiracy theories. George’s CV has every RWNJ grievance and fringe lunacy that he plans to develop for his pending post-politics career as Australia’s Alex Jones. George expects to convert his voter niche of toolies, roadside dumpers and persons-of-interest into subscribers to his web site.

Climate denial is easy clicks for Gorgeous for that time when freed from scrutiny he can fund a revisit to Manila to redeem his unused frequent perver points. Gorgeous’s weight loss regime of a shit and a haircut has not paid off but one benefit of retaining his panoramic profile is that he’s eligible for the 2-for-1 full English breakfast at Tiffany’s Titty Bar & Grill in Angeles City. I’m looking forward to his reviews being posted.

In contrast George’s spindly chum Matt King Coal Canavan is all prick and toenails. He could pass for George’s left-overs. He’s a Mr Squiggle look-alike in blackface whose schtick is suckering enough of his constituency into believing that he’s on the tools so that he can keep his shiny bum planted on air-conditioned parliamentary senate leather.

Matty’s a man of convictions:

Matt Canavan: “Where I’m from there’s not a lot of roads or airports.”

Narrator: He was born on the Gold Coast and grew up in Brisbane. His white collar office is located in the city of Rockhampton. Rockhampton Airport is a major Australian airport with flights to Brisbane, Mackay, Townsville and Cairns and transports approximately 580,000 passengers each year.

Matt Canavan: Once you tell people this will cost $500 a year, support for net zero drops off

Also Matt Canavan: If we have to hike your mortgage repayments because banks won't lend to coal projects, that's a price I'm willing for you to pay

— Ebony Bennett (@ebony_bennett) October 25, 2021

His physical presence reminds me of Michelangelo’s statue of David – if you chipped away the marble and just left the dick.

Shotgun Bridget McKenzie is a pin-up girl for all types. Her particular brand of smarm may be the product of her role as chair of the Parliamentary Friends of Shooting (that’s a real thing) and her award of Ivan Milat Achiever Of The Year (that’s not). Her vibe is ‘don’t cross the Bridget mixed with sweaty inflatable girlfriend. Her rationale for supporting the end of a habitable planet is likely just ‘cos I can’ ego wanking.

Contributing to the log jam in the gerbil maze that passes for coherence in the National Party is Keith ‘Cec’ Pitt whose grasp of economics is not so much Friedrich Hayek as John Frum. Cec’s input to the list of demands was $250B of taxpayers’ monies to invest in rustic carbon-generating boondoggles that even the corporate spiv mates avoided like an invite to Bridget’s hymen restoration.

Striving for ordinariness and failing to achieve even that modest goal¹ – ‘who is Keith Pitt’ you may ask. Fair enough – his most lasting impression was when he faceplanted into a snow drift. (¹I can’t attribute that wonderful quote as I can’t find who came up with it.)

“Can I say to the honourable member, find me a solar panel that works in the dark.” – wait til he finds out than EVs can run at night, that windfarms don’t slow the rotation of the earth, or that guacamole is not a country in Central America.

A measure of Barking Barmy’s genius is that included in his list of demands was the return of Cec to cabinet – the very role that Barking fired him from just 4 months earlier. Please form an orderly queue to bang your head in the nearest door.

Watching Barking at a presser is a lesson in platinum grade self-delusion. He fronts the media with his hands clasped over his paunch, spouting yokel homilies and reciting the names of country towns he’s managed to memorise like a puce Geoff Mack rendition of I’ve Been Everywhere and showing off his greatest feat of self-discipline by not vomiting on his shoes while the cameras are rolling.

Barking is Gina Rinehart’s biggest deposit. The occupant of the second highest office in the land is serving as the coal and gas industries’ gofer. Barmy will deride the science from the back of a ute, dressed as a hay bail and shouting at clouds to play to his constituency of Kickatinalong town mayors, clay pigeon shooters, PornHub bingers and water thieves. While Scooter is in Glasgow avoiding Emmanuel Macron and pimping his pamphlets this disturbed souser will be acting Prime Minister.