Just eight days to go before we see if the polls are accurate.
If John Howard is to become an OAP.
Actually, he has looked all at sea during this campaign and jon kudelka has caught that feeling exactly in this wonderful caricature. Except he looks botoxed here. He has been looking quite wrinkled and elderly over the past couple of weeks.
Don’t forget you can get all of these 101 uses for a demented Prime Minister in one convenient volume for just $20 plus postage.
All this talk of preambles to the Constitution takes me back to the heady days of 1999 when the Battlers of Australia voted against elitism by retaining the, er… British Monarchy. It’s no secret that Little Johnny’s a big fan of HRH and it is one of the great cruelties of male pattern baldness that as a loyal Monarchist, while he is certainly tugging away at something, he is entirely devoid of any forelock with which to make the traditional obeisance.
Fortunately, the solution is clear. Johnny was one of the unsung heroes of ‘99, obfuscating, complicating, bamboozling and befuddling the Elitist Army to snatch victory for queen and country. While he may lack a forelock of his own, he made up for it by tugging everybody else’s forelock for them.
The forelock-tugging power of one John Howard is approximately equal to that of 10000 Egyptian slaves (now those were the days) during the construction of the pyramids. It has been calculated that John Howard equipped with a cable fashioned from human forelocks and a quick burst of Rule, Brittania! would have been enough to get the Pasha Bulker off Nobbys Beach at Newcastle before they even got to the bit about how Britons will never be slaves.
Whilst Johnny Tugboat could enjoy a productive retirement towing refugee terrorist boat people back to the end of the queue where they belong, a more ambitious plan presents itself.
While elitists are self-evidently wrong about everything, they are slightly correct in pointing out that the Queen of Australia resides at the opposite end of the planet. Now, give John a map, a really strong cable woven from the forelocks of all true Australian British subjects and a rousing chorus of God Save the Queen and he’ll have us towed into the Atlantic, just to the west of Ireland before you could say off with his head.