Social Commentator

Christie Whelan Browne says bum again!

Folks, I’d never heard of Christie Whelan Browne until the other day; now let’s start with her name, which sounds impressive and really should be written Whelan-Browne. Now there are several things to note about this nomenclature. She has kept her maiden name and joined it with her husband’s, so, to start with she’s got a double barrelled name which is always suss. Furthermore, this shows she’s a mad feminist, can’t acknowledge male hegemony. Then there is the name Browne spelt with an e. Now this is a marker, which in Ireland meant you were a Protestant. In other words, dumb Catholics spelt their name, Brown. Coupled with all of this, she is an actress who alleges that actor Craig McLachlan indecently assaulted her during a 2014 production of cult musical The Rocky Horror Show. The particulars are: he was kissing my bum. Dearie me! dearie me! What shall I do? Well she went to the newspapers not the police. Now she says people are rude to her and has been wrongly accused of being a gold-digger Jezebel. Ho-hum the beat goes on.

Then if anything grows, while you pose

I’ll oil you up and rub you down (down, down, down)

And thats just one small fraction, of the main attraction

You need a friendly hand, oh I need action

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Social Commentator

Hanson-Young is a horse’s !!!!!

Well folks, put ya hand up if you’ve been watching the cat fight between Hanson-Young and David Leyonhjelm. Ok, I agree it’s a boor and a good example of polies arguing over nothing and wasting tax payer’s money but what do ya do with a dumb broad like Hanson-Young who is a virago, fishwife, fury, harpy, scold, shrew, termagant, vixen, harridan, battle-axe, Xanthippe, and a ballbreaker. Put her in a scupper and hose her down, Shave her legs with a rusty razor, Earl-eye in the morning, Earl-eye in the morning.

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Social Commentator

Red Hen goes apeshit!

Folks, the Red Hen, America (Lexington, Va.) not to be confused with the Red Hen of Australia that Welsh rabbit, Julia Gillard, another ravin, fumin, smokin, dumb broad from the left of sanity, has escaped her pen and run amuck in the chitlin fields of middle America. If Sarah Huckabee Sanders had been a nice little black or ethnic okie from the underbelly of America where the sun never shines and everyone wears white shoes, then the shit of the do-gooders would have hit the fans of the righteous and the good Lord Almighty, would have laid a thousand doo-dahs! doo-dahs! De blind hoss sticken in a big mud hole—Doo-dah! doo-dah! Can’t touch bottom wid a ten foot pole—Oh! doo-dah-day! Stephanie Wilkinson, co-owner of the Red Hen, is a horse’s arse!

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Social Commentator

Katy Gallagher to stand again!

Katy Gallagher, a Labor dead beat, was thrown out of the Senate for breaching section 44 of Constitution. Now she’s back, without so much as a by your leave, spreading buttercups and daisies as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth; not a care in the world not an ounce of remorse for duping the Australian public. This country is overrun with pommy retreads.

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Social Commentator

To cull or not to cull?

Crocodiles have been seen swimming and sunning themselves at two popular Far North Queensland water holes. Take it from me folks, ya can always tell a crocodile lover because they wear their underdaks up their bum crack and live in a cold climate. Everyone knows a dead croc is a good one; shoot em high, shoot em low, shoot em up anytime. Those dam crocs we seek em here, we seek em der, we seek em ebbrywhere. Those dam crocs are good for nuttin, nuttin, not a ting at all. Lets get rid of them and celebrate a day at the beach croc free.

But the biggest kick I ever got was doing a thing called the Crocodile Chop. While the other kids were rocking round the clock, we were hopping and bopping to the Crocodile Chop.

 

 

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Social Commentator

Barnaby is not related to Lord Haw-Haw!

Folks, the amount of ill wind that is directed at Barnaby Joyce at the moment, is hard to fathom. I thought, perhaps people had confused Barnaby with another person; voila: the pin dropped and there it is to behold. Barnaby Joyce is neither the son of William Joyce, Lord Haw-Haw nor the reincarnation of Lord Haw-Haw.  So can we move on please. Try and pick on someone your own size.

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Social Commentator

Barnaby is the target of envy!

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.

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Social Commentator

Domestic Violence!

Well me old hearties here we go again, the domestic violence stick to beat men over the head with but more importantly to continue the feminist propaganda of blaming men for all the ills in the world is being paraded round the table again. We are told by the homosexual elements of the world that gender is not a fixed determinant but a matter of choice, and rigidity in questions of social and sexual intercourse should be rejected and always remain a matter of choice as the individual is a sovereign person at liberty to define their own status and happiness. It has nothing to with the church or the state. Feminists have constantly been shifting the debate in a way to remove all blame from women in regards any association or dealings with men, eg the crapola over female consent to sex: women reserve the right to with draw their consent, post-coital tristesse. Now we find that the results prove that domestic violence, in its most dangerous form, is overwhelmingly committed by men against women. Until women acknowledge and accept that they are just as culpable as the man in a relationship and drop the bullshit about men stealing their affection and love the story of sex and violence will go on ever.

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Social Commentator

Karl Stefanovic is having a one wheeler removed!

There is not a madder bunch of kamikaze dropkicks than cyclists who think they are God’s gift to the urban snarl and crawl. The lowing herd wind slowly o’er the lea, and the driver homeward plods his weary way, and leaves the world to darkness and to me while these scrawny lycra looneys duck and weave amongst us in the ineffable drag to reach our door but plodding legislators give all to unregistered riders and cycles whilst we poor bastards have our arses taxed off by police and polly alike. In yer old tin hat Karl Stefanovic, you’re a nose pick!

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Social Commentator

Sales & Palmer go tete a claques!

Leigh Sales interview of Clive Palmer on The 7.30 Report on Monday night (28 May) was nothing more than a hysterical woman screaming at a male over some imagined wrong he had committed, which Sales believed was a solid rolled gold fact as Mr Boxhead Shorten would say. Mr Palmer is in court proceedings before a single judge in which certain interlocutory orders have been made; they are not set in concrete and the matter is far from being resolved. Ms Cait Kelly, Daily Mail has come to the aid of Sales and, if it were a male situation, it would be called the old-boy network, stickin up for one of their own. Since it is females, perhaps, we can say it’s the old-broads’ network.  Sales and Kelly are a solid rolled gold pair of dumb arsed reporters.

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