scomo... 

Arriving in Melbourne at a dinner for the faithful it seems, ScoMo was upbeat. He had slayed the French Napoleon in a submarine Waterloo op, he’d made a pledge that “global warming is a major problem for humanity”, that COAL was good for the economy, that going "all the way with the damn Yankee” was the Australian way of the future and that electric cars were the salvation of the weekends. Life was beaut — pity he had to wait till next year to declare an election as time had run out in this fast disappearing calendar year.

But, teeth gleaming of white shoe polish, Scomo was bouncing in his Kerosene blue suit. If he had appeared slightly jaded earlier, it was only due to the gruelling schedule between telling the world "how good was Australia” in Glasgow, so many times that his voice was coarse but the doubtful gave up and believe in Him. He contrasted this with His management of the little French corporal Macron who thought his subs were as good or better than the AUKUS’s. Scomo did not want to humiliate Macron beyond the normal diplomatic release of documents and secret phone conversations. Magnanimous, Scomo was the top of the heap. 

Marching like a big blue bull in a China shop — note the capital C — hollering to the admirers, energised by the morning dumps on Macron, and licking some US balls, Scomo had election victory in his gleaming eyes. And this was only Melbourne! Wait till he lands in Sydney — his home town where the voters are dying of admiration for his growing guts. 

“We’ve got to get rid of Morrison…” grumbled a nasty lefty to his latte, like a Guy Fawkes who accidentally found 20 barrels of gunpowder, left by the government forces in a deceitful entrapment move… 

Another lefty ponders about what kind of new rorts, Scomo will douse the swinging part of the unwashed population wearing backward-baseball-caps… Scomo has already got the slouched hat people, the rabbit/kanga hat of the farming wheat-stalk chewing combined-harvester land-owners and he has also captured the miners with his crown-like yellow hard-hat in the midst of an incessant number of self-praising news conferences — all in his back-pocket. 

The journos could become tired by the pace. Some journos tend to loose their critical eye that in normal times would smell the deceit, but with so much self-pumping Scomo news, most lose their pencil-sharp minds to the fairy-floss of the positivityvity. One cannot argue with positivityvity… While Tony Abbott was the king of negativity, Scomo is the emperor of positivityvity… The national interest is positively aired and plumped on our beds like a comfortable warm doonah. 

The former Scomo of failed advertising has bloomed into the master of slogans and, if a negative word appears, it’s to dispel another negative, reinforcing the positivityvity. “Technology, not taxes!” Brilliant. We, the morons at large, don’t care if the technology may or may not work, or exist, we won’t have to pay TAXES… or if we do they would have been minimised by Scomo the-tax-slasher, down to the minimum smallest…

Mind you, if you become old and frail and enter into a home for the one foot-in-the grave candidates, the government (and its minted acolytes of the retirement village industry) will screw you blind — not like a blind trust that can save you heaps should you be a member of parliament — but blind like you can't read the small print because your eyes aren’t that good anymore… But at least, you did not die of Covid-19, as according to Scomo-himself, he did all he could to secure vials of vaccines that have prolonged your life by six months. You should be grateful like his minted acolytes of the retirement village industry are, for cashing in on another six months of fees — and we are….

So all is well and best in the world of Scomo Australia. What could go wrong? Nothing!

If Scomo did not believe in Noah’s Ark, he would be the PERFECT Prime Minister. Hum, because of this little indiscretion, I cannot vote for him nor for his mob of saints...

Gus Leonisky

A brave non-soul…

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