I have to admit I like it when two sides go to war and I give neither a "flying" nor a "f*ck" either way.
It enables me to sit back and give both sides of the rant equal air-time.
Or I can just point and laugh at everybody; i.e f*ck the lot of 'em.
In the latter category would fall two of my favourite groups of recalcitrant f*cktards - the A.C.T. Government (a local council on steroids) and mincing, whining animal liberationist-type wankers.
Not that I hate animals. And you know I *love* the idiots in politics. It's just that I am a laaaaaazy man. Waaaaaay too lazy to give a "flying" or a "f*ck", as I mentioned, and certainly not to the rabid extent these two sub-species of humanity do anyway.
So what's got them all angried up and looking to come out of their corners swinging (girlish) haymakers?
Well, apparently there is a mob of some 400 or so kangaroos that have taken up residence in northern A.C.T climes. And not only are the dirty foreigners not assimilating with the Osstrayn way of life, roight, they aren't paying stamp duty or land rates to the A.C.T government.
Which means they get what all other A.C.T rate-payers get when they're late with rate-payments - pursued to the death by hired yokels with f*cken shotguns, hooning around in the back of Holden utes with f*cken enormous bullbars and 32 different spot-lights on the roof.
The usual, you know.
But enter the federal Defence Department, whose land, technically, the roos are inhabiting and filling with roo-pellets on a daily basis.
Haunted by the ghost of Steve Irwin (who still won't shut the f*ck up), the Department sought instead to evict the roos and, in the typical bipartisan fashion for which Australian governance is known, basically boot their fat lazy hoppity-hop f*cken ar$es over the border into N.S.W and let THEM deal with the overgrown f*cken jumping-rats.
Now this must have upset the contracted roo-shooters, who had driven their utes all the way from the insignificant $hit-splat on the map called Bull's Turd in remote QLD and had already purchased "vital equipment" (152 cases x Victoria Bitter, 50 bags x crushed ice, 12 x eskies, 14 boxes x Four'n'Twenty party pies, 3 x Bonds blue singlets) in anticipation of the cull.
So Comrade John Stanhopeless, Party Commissar for the A.C.T government, decided "f*ck that" and put a stop to any kangaroo migrations over the border.
Now how did he do that? Build a f*cken fence? Issue a writ? Raise one eyebrow menacingly?
Well, actually, he refused to issue "export permits".
So apparently the kangaroos MARKED FOR F*CKEN DEATH are a civic-minded sort, and wouldn't dare contradict any bureaucratic contrivances designed to keep them where they are for easy targeting - after all, yokels find it hard to hold the shotgun straight after 26 stubbies so the roos better stay the f*ck still dammit.
Now it's the animal-lover type fairies who are getting upset and peppering Comrade Stanhopeless with questions. And, as is always the case when this happens, the good Comrade squirms and writhes like a f*cken cornered rat looking for an out.
"Errr.....," he bul$hitted quickly,"...well, see, a smart smart man called a science-test, wearing a white lab coat, and glasses so he must be real clever because only smart people wear glasses (it's from all the reading they do get it) told me that it traumatizes the Skippys to get moved."
Yes, it's much better for them to be chased around by squealin', pig-fellatin' bumpkins firing shot-gun pellets at the rate of 26 every 5 seconds from the back of a bouncing ute being driven at about 500 kilometres an hour.
F*ck that's calming. Nine out of ten kangaroos nominated that image as their preferred "happy place" in a recent Morgan survey. On the other hand, showing them footage of "moving" made most of them wet their pouch or cry "mummy" which is f*cken significant because kangaroos can't f*cken talk. Or answer surveys.
Also, Comrade Stanhopeless said that he's tried moving them before and it didn't work, so there.
I think he's recalling the time he drove out to Googong Dam and got out of his BMW when he spotted some roos, running and waving his arms and yelling "Gwan! GIT! GWAAAAN! GIT!! GIT! GWAAN! YA MONGRELS! GWAAN! " for about 3 minutes, at which point at least 1 of the roos gazed over at him disinterestedly. And then returned to $hitting contentedly in the grass, which, as I understand it, is all that kangaroos actually do, besides occasionally committing spectacular suicide by jumping into speeding cars on the Federal Highway.
"Well I'm out of ideas" remarked the good Comrade, and that was that.
The next day, crack teams of specially trained inbred hicks blasted some 900 roos into red spray-paint and used the word "yeeehaaaw!" about 5000000000000000 times in only 24 hours.
Comrade Stanhopeless claimed at the time that this Duke Nukem-esque bloodbath was necessary, because the roos were "threatening Canberra's water supply", so obviously he had either uncovered a sinister terrorist plot by the kangaroo community to detonate a dirty bomb and blow up the dam, or else they were planning to COMPLETELY IGNORE the STAGE IV WATER RESTRICTIONS and water their lawns WITH UNTIMED SPRINKLER SYSTEMS!! Egad! F*cken roos! Lil' bit of f*cken KABLAMMMO too good for 'em I say!
Of course, Comrade Stanhopeless got caught out on that one, too.
"Documents obtained by The Canberra Times...showed the cull was opposed by senior government scientists and had been ordered as a result of complaints by neighouring farmers."
Now that just f*cken irks me, because I complain about MY neighbours all the f*cken time and I haven't seen THEM get shot yet. What are my f*cken land rates FOR, anyway?
"They claimed kangaroos were evading professional shooters on their properties by fleeing into the foreshores reserve."
Well I'm not f*cken surprised, considering even a f*cken kangaroo can probably hear the hee-haws playing their Lee Kernaghan CD at f*cken flight-path volume from about 25 kilometres away.
See I can just imagine ole Clem, chewing on a grass stem and complaining to gathered reporters "Well, yeh, them roos is jes gettin away now isnt they?" and shaking his head sadly, before heading inside to have 3 minutes of 'relations' with ole Merle, 'cos it's Sat'dee after all and there ain't been this much fussin' and fartin' in these here parts since young Johnny McJohnston got caught with his d1ck in Nana Thompson's show-winning blue-ribbon 36 kilo pumpkin - and thinkin' 'bout that gets me a bit hot 'n bovvered, Merle me good ole girl, so whip down the britches and git riddy.
Yet again the entire A.C.T government, the legion of imported roo-shootin', sheep-shaggin' good ole' boys and Clem are outwitted by kangaroos that, er, don't stand f*cken still.
So denying the roos the ability to 'export' themselves over the border, as well as canceling ALL A.C.T LIBRARY PRIVILEGES, will obviously make sure the crafty little f*ckers have no choice but to stand still and take a .22 round right in the pouch.
Now the very thought of that brings tears to the eyes of Mr Pat O'Brien, who happens to be President of the Wildlife Protection Association, and also happens to boycott merry-go-rounds because they are an "offensive and unrealistic portrayal of horses". Pat also has an not-unimpressive collection of photos of horse-penises, which he likes to get out at BBQs to impress guests with.
Now Patty, who has a girl's name, is riled up. Sadly, he isn't threatening to run naked in front of the roo-shooter's bullets in order to protect the roos. However, he is threatening to have an almighty sook.
"The Rudd Government and ACT Chief Minister John Stanhope will face SIGNIFICANT PROTEST ACTION."
Presumably this will involve the impressively terrifying MASS PUBLIC TYING OF KNICKERS INTO REALLY REALLY TIGHT COMPLICATED F*CKEN KNOTS.
But then, most fairy-airy types are presently too preoccupied by lobbing acid onto Japanese whaling boats and trying to shag unshaven hippy-chicks to f*cken care.