Wee Willie Winkie rins through the toon,

Up stairs an’ doon stairs in his nicht-gown,

Tirlin’ at the window, crying at the lock,

“Are the weans in their bed, for the shirt-lifters are about?”

One thing Barnaby Joyce and Vikki Campion have that all these other nasty oopsies don’t have, is dear little baby Sebastian. When ya a desiccated, wizened piece of LBT who’s spent a life cockin ya arse at anything that moves in a gay mardi gras, it would be niece to come home and settle down with a wee bairn. Envy, dear reader; envy.