By Grumpy Geezer
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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