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Wednesday, 26 June 2013


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One of the many reasons why I love your blog ...

"... she had to fight her way up a greasy ladder ..."

How in the world does a ladder get greasy? Now, if you had said "greasy pole" ...

Ding dong, the witch is dead, etc.
Now, let's just hope she stays dead.
She's apparently taken up knitting and that should suit her very well. She is knitting a kangaroo for Will and Kate's child. I'm frankly surprised she can manage that but I'm sure the wee one will be thrilled.
By the way, that's Ms. not Mrs. The lady has never been married.

Dom, any ladder within the confines of your Congress or our Parliament is bound to be greasy by contamination! Also, climbing a pole, greasy or otherwise, gives the impression of a solo activity. I wanted to convey the idea that she was fighting her way up through a crowd of men. Imagery, you see, and 'I'm a poet and I don't know it'!

Not married! Can't say I'm too surprised.

But Rudd is such a prick.

Possibly but Ms. Gillard is such a . . . oh dear, now look what you've nearly made me say, DM!

"... Mr Rudd ... is loathed by many colleagues, as well as by civil servants in Canberra, who have been dreading his return. A smiley, folksy personality in public, he is said to be foul-tempered, despotic and terminally indecisive by those who have worked with him."
(The Independent)

I see your Government David, is taking up where Gillard's left off:

Well, we pretty much had a choice of Gillard, Rudd or the man who will probably be elected in September, Tony Abbott.
They are all idiots!
If it keeps going on like this I suppose I'll have to put my hand up. I really haven't got time to run the country but we've certainly run out of politicians so I guess it's up for grabs.
The perks are good though.

You'd get my vote, Andra, well, I wouldn't dare do otherwise!

Of course, I had no idea who the lady was. So I googled her and look what I found:

So, she cannot be that bad after all. If only her hair were a little tousled...

I think, Ortega, that her hair might become a little tousled after the obligatory (in Australia) habit of drinking ten 'tinnies' (tins) of Foster's Lager! But you can see what I mean about her "pert" face! As for her "breasts", alas, I cannot speak.

Today's funny.

Angela Merkel arrives at Passport Control at Paris airport.
"Nationality?" asks the immigration officer.
"German," she replies.
"No, just here for a few days."

Boom - boom! It's the way you tell 'em, Ortega!

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