To my dear Mr Turnbull, I stopped writing letters to you some time ago; I suppose you might say, so what? So what indeed? Well the answer is in the pudding, which you f**ked up. Mate, you couldn’t run a pie-cart at footy grand final and I’m glad to say goodbye to ya. May all ya chicken grow up to be emus and may they kick ya dunny down. Ya down under wacko!
Tziporah Malkah aka Kate Fisher, she’s the one who at thirteen won a Dolly modelling competition and then for the next 20 years cocked her arse on the catwalk at all and sundry, thank ya mother for the rabbits, know what I mean, nudge, nudge, know what I mean. Married James Packer and walked away with a million dollar settlement; relocated to Los Angeles, changing her name to Tziporah Malkah because she’s a Jew (Springtime For Hitler), then was ripped off not by the neo-Nazis but by a Rabbi boyfriend, returning to Australia in 2011 broke and broken. Born with a silver spoon in her mouth suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died and was buried; she descended into hell; on the third day she rose again from the dead; and ascended into a White Caravan and is seated at the right hand of Juliet Potter. What’s her beef? James Packer is praised because he fessed up to being a depressive while she has been called a crazy old fat bag has-been. It not kosher she said, Mr Packer, a white male is getting all the sympathy.
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.
What do you say when you watch Denton and Magda Szubanski doing an antipasto, gherkin off on TV. It was pathetic. What do you say when your too fucked up and there’s nothin on TV but the Dirt diggler whose makin ya illin’; I’m feelin kinda drowsy. What a bore, Magda saved the whole dam gay race with her marriage equality campaign, just think of all the new littlins we’re goin to have. Oh hum, she’s a bum, bum again; she’s too fat for me!
PS ABCTV has cancelled “Roseanne” what a beauty Newk!
Is Barnaby Joyce a hypocrite? Hypocrisy is the contrivance of a false appearance of virtue or goodness, while concealing real character or inclinations, especially with respect to religious and moral beliefs. Hypokrites was a technical term for a stage actor. What is Barnaby Joyce’s principal occupation: a politician? Since the highest function of a politician is to play-act, act out, or dissemble, then has any gain or merit come from the name calling and ridiculing of Mr Joyce. His real perfidy, it is said, is that he opposed same sex marriage. Hardly a major failing, if viewed from a 2000 years historical perspective where homosexuality has never been accorded legitimate recognition. However, in the new world of anything goes, good’s bad today, black’s white today and day’s night today then anything goes. So gettin 150,000 bucks for an all singing, all dancing performance by Sebastian Joyce and all the other Joyces sounds cheap to me but Mamamia (Fake News Incorporated) and its band of performing suffragettes and jackasses thinks its a sin-anything goes.
What a yodel. She taught me to yodel, yodel-oh-ee-dee, diddly-odel-oh-ee-dee. She’ll do me, she’ll do you, she’s got that kind of lovin’, Lord; I love to hear her when she calls me sweet daddy. There ya go, Lisa Wilkinson, some dumb asrsed broad whose only claim to fame is beatin up on equally dumb arsed men.
Oopsi daisy, Ray Martin said nigger, then he said it again: nigger, nigger. There’s a hole in the bucket dear Lisa. Oh yeah. Well it was them darn nigger’s dat done it. Got drunk again, forgot me underdacs, I woke you up about half past three. Ray Martin’s on TV, who gives a shit. Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Mo, Catch a nigger by his toe, if he won’t work then let him go.
Really how many coloured gentlemen and ladies attended Meghan Markle’s wedding?
Amy Schumer is 36; you’d think she was 19 given the swank she puts on but she reaching the clapped-out use by date of 40 years. The sun comes up and the sun goes down; the hands on the clock keep a-goin’ ’round. Amy says the Harry/Meghan wedding will be a worst wedding! Old brown mule he must be sick, I jambed him in the rump with a pin on a stick and he humped his back but he wouldn’t kick. Oh Amy, Oh Amy you poor little darling. Are ya humpin days over? I think ya gettin’ a cold in ya nose. Life get tee-just don’t it?
Who f**kin cares. Mamamia (Fake News Incorporated) had nothing to do or say and the Editor couldn’t settle, so their star reporter, Sophie Aubrey, their all singing, all dancing quiz kid said, Please Miss, I know. Ms Editor replied, Sophie, we’re busy right now; so stick your finger back where ya had it and give’s a break. Please Miss, Sophie whined, Anne Boleyn was beheaded on 19 May 1536 and Harry and what’s her name, Meghan are getting married on 19 May 2018. Eureka, cried the Editor that’s it, more f**kin fake news.