Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Claytons - The Drink I Have When I'm Too Drunk To Keep Drinking

Sadly, we must today mourn the passing into history of a watershed moment in Australian politics - Claytons Parliament Friday, or "The Government We're Having When We're Not Having Government".

Remember the ad?

(Scene: The Holy Grail Bar, Civic, Canberra. Drunken, binge-drinking politicians are sprawled everywhere. A forlorn Brendan Nelson pole-dances, dressed only in a feather boa, to an empty dance-floor. Saint Kevin the Infallible, Patron Saint of Working Families, approaches the barman...)

"Claytons Parliament, thanks, Brian..."

"On the wagon, Kevin?"

"F*ck no, just a f*cken stupid idea I came up with on the crapper. Still, a few more hot young lefty socialist chicks at Universities around the country will want to suck my d1ck, so it can't be all bad!"

"Well, now we can all get some sleep!"
(cue: uproarious laughter...)

You remember when our beloved Prime Minister, Saint Kevin the Infallible, Patron Saint of Working Families, ascended to the golden throne? Of course you f*cken do, you all voted for him twice and saw God's own hand anoint the f*cken poindexter at about 8.15 pm, with trumpets and all sorts of God-ish $hit happening. Kerry O'Brien almost spontaneously combusted in orgasmic rapture at the time. Who could forget that?

Well anyway, Saint Kevin ascended to the heavenly throne, pausing only to thunderously announce that Parliament would 'sit' on Fridays from now on, by the power of his mighty, erect, Golden Staff of CRudd!

A tremendous thunder shook the very earth at these words as he smote the floor of the chamber with his Golden Staff!

F*ck me dead, exclaimed the masses, the politicians are going to be working harder than ever before to deliver Working Families unto the Garden of Eden! They're going to be working on Fridays instead of f*cking off to Manuka and Kingston and Barton swank eateries and cafe-bars! It's a new Golden Era!

Yeah, like f*ck it is you morons, or, as I prefer to say: WRONG AGAIN DIP$HITS!!

See, unlike Moses, when Saint Kevin trundles on down from the mountain with stone tablets, you better read the f*cken fine print the smarmy little pr1ck chiseled on there really quickly while everyone was busy laughing at Brendan Nelson trying to limbo beneath his latest approval rating.

On a side note, the reason I don't slag off the Good Doctor much on this ridiculous f*cken blog here is not because I am a right wing Liberal Party sycophant - I f*cken hate those f*cken dip$hits, too - it's more because kicking the Good Doctor while he's down (down at about 9% last I heard) is pretty f*cken lame. I ought to steal some Chupa-Chups from kids while I'm at it. I mean, f*ck, Mike Tyson has a higher approval rating than f*cken 9% with Domestic Violence Support Groups. F*ck, Paul McCartney has a higher approval rating with his ex-wife than F*CKEN 9%!! A f*cken AMOEBA could get more than 9% approval from a typical Australian electorate by f*cken showing up and sub-dividing a few cells! (and maybe then downing a schooner of VB in under 3.5 seconds...)

So there's no comedy there, just f*cken mediocrity. Which would be funny if it was, you know, Jose Mourinho or something, but it isn't. Alas.

So while all the f*cktards that worship Saint Kevin were smearing themselves in honey and faeces and frotting each other furiously at this latest stroke of genius from the hard-working, committed PM, the fine print went undetected. Orgiastic denial is a hell of a thing.

Except f*cken Chov was onto it like a f*cken pensioner onto a virgin poker machine at the RSL. BANG!!

The banner headline read, somewhat:


The fine print read, loosely:

"* except for the Prime Minister himself, who actually won't be there on Fridays at all, oh no, he'll be off fishing or avoiding lunches with Brian Burke..also there won't actually be any questions asked by any member, nor answered....also there won't actually be any debate of legislation.....and...err...what else....oh yeah, no votes to be taken either. And finally, the Friday sitting also can't be used by any member to put in his or her footy tips for the f*cken weekend either. You can pick your nose, though. Maybe."

And see the reason Chov was onto this with more fury than f*cken Pablo Escobar onto a constipated drug-mule was because I adopted the very same concept and applied to my own workplace.

I notified my boss, pursuant to section 4, sub-clause 14 (c), (iii), that henceforth I intended to "work" on Fridays, with "work" to be defined as "staying the f*ck home, casually rubbing one out after breakfast, having 3 beers for lunch and writing angry comments to the Daily Telegraph for the duration, or watching mid-week replays of the NRL on Foxtel" and defining "Fridays" as "any day I deem to be Friday".

However I kindly offered to provide a life-size blow-up sex-doll of myself to sit in my chair in case anyone felt the need to discuss some work-related matter with me by proxy - or should they simply wish to sit on my massive rod for sexual gratification.

Obviously the Opposition heard of my brilliant sarcasm on an epic scale and stole my f*cken idea. They took a cardboard-cutout of Saint Kevin into Parliament on the first Friday that this stupid $hit was put into practice and f*cken ruined it for everybody, didn't they?

That's right. One single f*cken Friday and it's all over because some bad apples had to go and ruin it for the whole f*cken bunch didn't they. Do you know how many more rants I could have f*cken posted on this stupid $hit?

But Saint Kevin dropped the idea because, basically, ALL ALONG IT WAS F*CKEN STUPID, however good luck getting the pompous little turd to admit it. But everyone knew, in terms if f*cktosity, this was SPECIAL, and, alas, kiddies we may not live to see breathtaking f*cktardation of this ilk again.

Unless somehow Wayne "The Ugly Fuckling" Swan gets to be PM, in which case he'll introduce "Come to Parliament Dressed As Your Favourite Sesame Street Character Tuesday".

You'll know him, he'll be the a$$ of Snuffleupagus.