Was that a quadruple back somersault with seven twists that we saw this week from Our Dear Leader?
Or was he simply dragged from the tender arms of corgi and george xtiansen and forced to look over the brink by those on the Government benches who actually retain some vestigial grains of compassion (or, in the cases of Craig Laundy and Tim Jones, rather more than that)?
Was he told that if he didn’t make some sort of pro-humanitarian gesture, it was all over, red rover?
Whatever, it has indeed been an interesting week (again).
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Anyway, whatever his motives, and however quickly the 12,000 come to abbotistan, let’s kick back for the moment and mark the end of yet another interesting week.
As I wrote this morning, it’s a glorious day in Melbourne (still), and I’ve finally realised why my dry, itchy cough became worse today. Derr, it’s spring, the air is full of pollen, and this is Melbourne, allergy capital of Australia.
So I’ll go easy on the drinks, unless there’s some bottled Claratyne in the Secret Cellar.