The Department of Home Affairs is the Australian Government’s interior ministry with responsibilities that include emergency management. Emergency management is the organisation and management of the resources and responsibilities for dealing with all humanitarian aspects of emergencies. The Minister for Home Affairs is Peter Dutton.
Scotty from Marketing’s covert desertion of an incinerating Australia in favour of a sun lounge and mai tais on a Waikiki beach during the bushfire crisis was an inevitable PR disaster, exacerbated by Where’s Wally’s subsequent behaviour that underlined his couldn’t-give-a-fuck attitude and tin-eared incompetence.
Other Tory rats abandoning both the burning ship and their responsibilities included Linda Reynolds, yawning donkey impersonator and Minister for Defence, who apparently thought that the beer swilling sousers and yobs found in abundance in Bali would conveniently camouflage her presence.
Bloated gourmand and NSW Minister for Emergency Services David Elliot‘s European holiday le grand repas français was of such monumental imbecility that it’s hard to imagine that it was anything other than a calculated distraction from Morrison’s own l’storm de merde.
John Barilaro, NSW Deputy Premier and member for the now-charcoaled seat of Monaro sought holiday solace in London where a flute of Laurent-Perrier and a poached pear and frangipane tart at Claridges is a snip at £90 per.
The good ship Australia was left in the hands of Michael the bobble-headed Whatsisname, a gormless rube of such stupifaction that sheep have been seen falling asleep in his presence; a man who thinks exploding cow pats cause the bush fires that “we’ve always had” and that any concern is the “ravings of some pure, enlightened and woke capital-city greenies”.
The ‘blame the trees’ schtick was taken up by VB sommelier and orthodontics before-shot model Barking Barmy Joyce. The purple pontificator is happy to leave our fate in the hands of the big man in the sky while in the same breath blaming greenies for a lack of hazard reduction. Self-contradiction is a Barking speciality.
Various other non-entities, hacks, flying monkeys and gagas have proferred their own obfuscations, distractions and conspiracy theories such as the never-was that is Craig Kelly, a bibulous blob with the physique of a half-deflated dinghy and an intellect that is challenged by crayons and a colouring book.
While all this ducking and weaving and finger-pointing was going on there has been one notable absence.
Dutton dressed as yam©, the potato-headed Her Kipfler and Minister for Home Affairs never shies away from an opportunity to fear-monger or the possibility of a good progrom or the chance to demonise. There’ll be protestors to pepper spray, greenies to arrest, dissent to quash, so, where’s Poida? He’s supposed to manage emergencies, he should be up the front.
Those sounds you hear are the clicking of boot heels, the jubilant clapping of hands and delighted chuckles from a Machiavellian assassin taking pleasure at Scotty From Marketing’s travails. You can be certain that Poida From Security has been making a list and checking it twice, he’s been honing the cutlery and practising his underarm, he’s been sowing discontent amongst the Tory quizzlings and quaverers. The only question is the timing of the great potato strike.
(I’ve got a slab riding on this, Poida. Don’t let me down).
This article was originally published on The Grumpy Geezer.
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Grumpy, don’t give him credit where it isn’t due. I did this one. 😀
Ha! Thanks Ros.
The big question – will readers spot ScumMo before they spot Wally?
Scott the MO thought first that it was best to avoid being asked annoying questions about climate change, so he high-tailed it to Hawaii. Then he realised that his people needed him, so he high-tailed it back and properly let us know as soon as he returned that he had heeded our desperate calls for him to come and be our fearless leader in a time of crisis.
He didn’t need a whole lot of time to work out that only he was the right person to lead us in a crisis and in so doing, he could further build his beloved personal brand. He could go to the affected areas and pretend to be sympathetic and even to shake hands with people who obviously didn’t recognise him (confirming for Morrison that his work to build his personal brand was far from done), so he elbowed Mr Potato Head aside and took charge – well wasn’t that counter to his usual character!
And aren’t Morrison’s critics thrilled he did. In some respects, he managed to compress years of flawed, phony, arrogant, puerile and incompetent behaviour into a couple of weeks. And he isn’t done yet – he simply is the gift that keeps on giving.
Doubtless his supporters will argue we should give him a break, but he has shown his true colours and lack of capability and it is important we remember him in his finest hour so we can be sure to vote against “him” in 2022. It is, in the end, not as if he only made minor errors – he has absolutely blundered and bludgeoned his way through two weeks of the most consistently embarrassing performance I have ever seen from someone who can only allege he is a leader.
What really piques my interest,will there be gartered frauleins in Heinrich’s fourth Reich,and the mandatory Joy Division? BTW, nobody of Kipfler’s’ aquaintance can count past 40.And of course, we’ll have to get all those extra black uniforms from some suitable third world country, like , maybe North Queensland.
Don’t worry, GG. Morrison will make sure he’s got a camera on him every day.
He’s got his hero image to uphold.
Oh GG, you have such a wonderful sense of the ridiculous when it really matters, like describing the antics of our politicians.
The Barmy Beetrooter was at it again on local New television tonight telling Australian voters that it was his efforts alone that had saved New England for total incineration. Funny his cameo appearance at the Torrington fire ashes where 17 homes were lost saw Barnyard beat an unreported hasty retreat with some accurate colloquial descriptions ringing in his ears, of which the most polite was “as useless as tits on a bull”. Never appeared at the Wytaliba fireground in case he got his moleskins ashed.
Self promotion is perhaps his only speciality if you don’t count adultery, alcoholism, bigotry, croneyism, deception, fornication and ripping off the Parliamentary Allowances Scheme.
Then there is the great water supply for foreign owned tomatoes where Armidale drinking water is pumped directly through a $13 MILLION pipeline built at taxpayer expense by the NSW nat$ for the about 50% Canadian owned Costas Guyra Tomato Farm that needed a $170 MILLION sharemarket capital raising to pay their 2019 debts. Barnyard, Barilaro, Holla$A Marshall and local wannabe parliamentarian Armidale Mayor Dr Simply Simon were all present at the opening and lauded Armidale ratepayers as they struggled to survive on level 5 water restrictions so the profits would have an unimpeded flow straight into the pockets of the shareholders living overseas.
What quantum of future political donations does $13 MILLION of taxpayer largesse buy in future political fund raising events for the nat$ in New England and Northern Tablelands?
Meanwhile Australians get on with the task of re-building their communities, “It must be a miracle” that Twiggy Forrest donating $70 MILLION to add to the multiple millions raised by others without any assistance from our politicians who continue to dream of their own self righteous parsimonious role in saving Australia from the “bush fires we had to have” because Smirkie Morriscum ignored scientific research.
GG you have been inspired and inspiring in this article. Thank you.
I wonder whether he trusts “numbers” Cormann to get it right this time
They seem impervious after all, after the last few months, as ever, to appeals to feelings or reason both.
Are others starting to feel depressed at how things are turning out?
Well. we’d all like a laugh, as in the old days when life was balanced, come and go, regular change, tolerating and understanding, BUT, there is a bunch of suppurating C—S in office and who can laugh? The nation is skidding and sliding, struggllng and gurgling, so why can we tolerate the climb into power of filth and slime as the representatives of a conservative corporate racket to profiteer, ruin, destroy and cash in just because the shitheads CAN? As we sink in political shit and gurgle onto death , what can we do to get rid of this pestilence, pox, putridity?? Well?? O K, let us, daily, insult, describe, fornicate in fun and fantasy, until we awake, safe…That huge old media cowpat, Merde-Hoch must pass on soon to a great cesspit in hell…
I’d formed a view some time ago that you’re not a fan of the purple, priapic ponce.
I’ve got a soft spot for him. The bottom of a peat bog in the Tassie wilderness.
GG, my favorite is your various descriptions of the loathsome Hugh Jarse. I woudn’t normally have a go at a person because they were overweight,but there is something about his blubber that just enrages me. He has staff, I assume he has some poor woman at home, and he wouldn’t work in an iron lung so unlike others weighed down with the vicissitudes of life, he has no f#cking excuse. He’s an entitled white bloke of very little intelligence, almost imperceptible talent – apart from being able to sniff out free food from 100 metres – and the empathy of a slug. He is a misogynist to boot, who would never have made it as far as assistant floor manager if he wasn’t working daddy’s furniture business. His sole purpose in life appears to be providing a living example of how far skin can stretch.I didn’t think I could loathe anybody more than the Lying rodent, but I was wrong.
Herr Obergruppenfuhrer Potato is busily sharpening his knives and salivating as he daydreams of how it will feel when he slowly sticks it through Scotty from Marketing’s kidney.
“…providing a living example of how far skin can stretch.” Good one Patagonian.
Not mine, sadly. An old Cockney friend of mine who had a wonderful turn of phrase. She also used to say “Well if that’s true, my arse is a kipper”. I cracked up every time I heard her say it.
You’ve got to laugh or you would just break down and cry really.
@GG: “[T]he purple, priapic ponce” so accurate!!!
While I understand the technical details of your proposal, however as my progenitors were among the first European settlers of Hobart, I must protest that the rancid smell of putrefying adultery, alcoholism, bigotry and corruption would make the entire island stink worse than the Queensland Jelke-Petersen government. Oops!! I need an agricultural example. That should be “stink worse that a putrefying fly-blown wether having their slimy, urine dripping, half eaten crutch crawling with fat maggots”.
Very unfair on Spud Dutton.
He has an extensive property portfolio and has probably been out collecting rents from delinquent tenants.
He will always make himself available for his chats with Ray Hadley !
Thanks Grumpy Geezer, enjoyable release for my slow Brissy morning. I made the coffee but you provided the catharsis 🙂
What Phil Pryor said. Thank you Phil for so succinctly summing up this horrible shit show.