Thursday, April 24, 2014


A theoretical scenario – Ha Ha!

In my last I forgot to mention in explicit terms the way utter bastards are fucking with our lives.
I did mention the local mafia staging cheap demonstrations just before the start of long weekends.

So, let’s nail that down for the record.

What the hell are these wankers up to?
What precisely are they up to?

They seem to have the facility to cause what I call ‘street theatre’.

They group together in the mid of night – start causing conniptions – cause people grief – then phone their corrupt pals in the police.

They always do this in the evening before a long weekend – a public holiday event.

Which means that if YOU are the victim of their demonstration – then you are very likely to be arrested.

Why should you be arrested?

Obviously for no reason whatsoever.

Unless you were as stupid as them.

Unless you were stupid enough to go out there into the public domain and give them as much grief as they’ve been causing you.
Unless you were silly enough to believe that justice actually prevailed in boganvillia under the newman regime.

But, of course it doesn’t. now and has not ever since beattie abolished the tiniest semblance of justice all those years ago.

Yep. A free ride for the newman regime – compliments of beattie and bligh.

But of course, none of you silly bastards ever consider that queensland ‘justice’ was ‘enshrined’ by a complete pisstank by the name of Sam Griffith.
Sam Griffith simply plagiarised the Italian penal code way back in the tail end of the nineteenth century.

Don’t get me wrong; Sam stole a few good ideas from the Wogs – but never fuck-all of them seemed to be applied in this arsehole of the universe.

Ah. But I digress again.
I began by mentioning how the filth has enfiladed old queensland society.
How the opportunistic flatheads from the south have invaded our everyday society.
How the muck cruise our precincts acting like pig-dogs and at the opportune moment engage their smart-phones precisely at the moment when straight talking old queenslanders have completely had enough of their overweening bullshit.

Then when that happens they call on their wonky, corrupt pals nepotistically employed by other similar blow-ins in the system of ‘governance’.

So where does that leave us?
A mob of alleged politicians who should never have been selected for the raffle.
Under them, a mob of equally corrupt opportunistic psychos inhabiting middle management.
And under them, an entire population of hateful, overaggressive, jerks cruising our streets in high viz tabards and hard hats pretending that they have the ‘authority’ to push us all around and around.

It has gone too bloody far.
The next sack of shit bellowing bullshit at me with a kiwi or south african accent can just go away and fuck himself.


Well, it happened again last evening.
About five of ‘em lurking in the dark, sitting in the gutter over the road. Acting like prize fuckwits.
On our side of the road directly in front of our house lurked some sort of ute/pick/up. Another part of their sicko ensemble.

So, how did this come to my notice?
It seems I broke some new queensland (sorry, newmania/boganvillia) law by merely looking out my verandah window.
Imagine that. Hoping for a breath of fresh air – instead gagging on chemical refuse.

True; I was sincerely hoping the ‘new management’ of the cesspool over the road had locked up shop and shoved off to do whatever they do when they’re not dealing over the road.
But no – my mistake.
I’d forgotten that anzac day makes for a public holiday and a three day weekend.
So when they started acting like the sort they are – began mumbling insults and more – I should have realized that I was being set-up with another complaint by them to their pals in the local gendarmerie.
Which lot (the fuzz) turned up here at about 3.00pm Thursday afternoon, 24th April 2014.

This is a very serious matter.
Forty plus years ago under the bjelke joh regime the filth used to constrain their hate and confine it toward the professional criminals and their own pals.
In fact that was easy since most professional criminals were all too often also their own pals.

Not so these days.
It seems that the pickings are so thin that they want me, my lady wife and our remaining son to be arbitrarily treated in much the same way as the jewish people were in nazi germany.

And therefore this afternoon, just as the kids were leaving the primary school opposite our home – a vehicle drove through our yard and immediately afterward fists began bashing on our doors and windows.

And those arseholes were dressed up in their kinky tactical overalls complete with flak jackets, glock pistols and tazers.

All of which has me wondering why they weren’t over the road attempting to arrest the actual perpetrators of last night’s street theatre.

Perhaps, for all you jaded bastards out there, my constant theme has become somewhat boring –
After all, it is anzac day tomorrow and we three remaining of our once extended family would like to attend that remembrance ceremony devoted to yet another of Winston churchill’s glorious fuck-ups.
After all my wife’s dad was a wounded survivor of the third charge against Beersheba – her grandfather a triple wound survivor of the Somme – a bloke stupid enough to sign up a second time for the New Guinea campaign.
Likewise my own dad and my uncles had their fun in the second innings – dad in the RAAF the uncles in holiday camps like picturesque Tobruk.

Though having volunteered I never directly served.
It was my lot to offer my engineering manufacturing skills to the defence of Australia – only to be told to fuck off repeatedly by the corrupt arseholes looking after the likes of GDs and BritAerospace for the best part of two decades.

And while in the midst of that I was stupid enough to accept a contract from the queensland pigs to provide them with a means of preventing themselves from shooting themselves with their plastic fantastic glock pistols.

And I’m ashamed to say that we did it.

Who did that?
Myself and my dead son.

Just imagine if I’d thought that one through.
There’d be a few less of that slime lurking around here giving us innocents grief and protecting the local mafia.
I’d be able to go to the anzac day ceremonies tomorrow without having to look constantly over my shoulder.

But like our politicians, the rozzers don’t give a fuck (undoubtedly never have) about honest citizens or justice.

Even those who claim ‘honesty in profession’ are there for their ‘career path’.

Sort of like all those serial poo punchers and psychos in the various churches, denominations, NGOs, and all those ‘official service agencies’ dedicated toward ‘assisting’ the disadvantaged, the disabled, and the just plain crook.

If you’d bothered to read this far it may be the case that I’m preaching to those knowledgeable of this outrage – for by God the ‘experts’, the ‘professionals’ don’t want to acknowledge the truth that the ‘banality of evil’ is as evident in our society as in any other.

Except that ours is not a societal mechanism driven from ‘top down’ – but rather an exceedingly dysfunctional miasma amateurishly maladministered by the sorry impulse of greed bubbling up from the depths of stupidity into the realms of utter incompetence.
In short - the once penal colony keeps pretending that it has somehow devolved into a democracy.

And that is precisely why the porkers were unlawfully thrashing about in my back yard this afternoon!

Wednesday, April 23, 2014



A big airframe can be upgraded with all sorts of equipment.
Better control systems, avionics and weapons.

There are very few aircraft able to approach what the Russian industry has created.

And nothing to match the above.

Without any doubt whatsoever the ‘goat’ needs an excellent jockey – an athlete with comprehensive training and spools of airtime.

But saturate any airspace with sufficient well trained, dedicated, pilots and there is no way they will lose an air-superiority battle to role compromised, overexpensive export editions of American attack aircraft.

This is exactly what that ex-RAAF fellow has been saying for years.
Wossisname – Coon?

Of course it always has been the case that pretty aerobatics never won the bloody dogfight and dogfights never won the airwar over Britain nor over Midway.

No. What won those battles were aircraft that could be kept reliably in the bloody air with enough spare pilots who could keep flying the bastards.

And here is the thing –
This is the magnificent F22 ‘Raptor’ performing like a lame duck in Australia in 2013.

Something of a non-show in comparison to that ‘old technology’ Russkie.

Interesting, isn’t it, how our raffle winners, our alleged ‘masters’ keep doing this sort of thing to us?
They keep expecting us to agree (without question) to those cosy little deals that keep we peasants eternally broke.
Their hip pockets are full of so much ‘black cash’ that they have a hard time making it up the steps of their various ‘houses of parliament’.

Let’s put the case bluntly.
Those shiteheels will finally purchase an ‘air defence capability’ that will have our 21st century ‘bryllcreem boys’ stuck on the deck watching the invader curve our airspace into rolls of steam while they sit on their sorry butts in useless ‘US, export model’ crocks of shit.

But isn’t that what Abbort’s crowd all about?

They’d rather pay a goddamned fortune to the bloody seppos as an excuse to deny senior Australians their right and heritage after a lifetime of hard labour and misery.
They’d rather pay ten times the price for shit, fall out of the sky, aircraft than buy something decent that actually gives our emerging aces something decent – something of a challenge, to kill ‘emselves in.

I’m too bloody old now – but if I was given the chance again I’d choose a Sukhoi or a Mig anytime.

They can shove their Raptors, Craptors or JSFs each and every day of the week.

Bottom line goes this way –
Last time we were involved with a grade A bunfight we were offered a load of ‘inappropriate aircraft’.

Our people had to fly an ad- hoc bunch of crap against the Imperial Japanese forces and our people suffered for it.

The ‘Brewster Buffalo’ was a lovely plane to fly – as was the Curtiss P40.

But they were crap in opposition to the offerings of the enemy.

My old man (his squadron) was expected to combat the Imperial Japanese Navy, their Mitsubishi ‘Zero’ fighters with/in Lockheed Hudsons.

Imagine engaging Mitsubishi A6M air superiority fighters with commercial aircraft – converted to bombers – then expected to perform the fighter role.

And now our raffle winners – our ‘politicians’ – in another century, expect our service personnel to play that same stupid fucking game now.

There are a few ways of looking at the situation.
• Firstly, the raffle winning arseholes may not care about the massive cost of useless defence equipment. That, after all, has been the trend ever since 1901.
• Then, maybe the DO care – and intend this Commonwealth to be absorbed by the Asian nations without any of us white eyes having any say against that.
• There is a big, big chance that the bludgers care not a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut either way – so long as the collect their super and pensions and get to bugger off to other shores before the collapse happens (the most likely scenario).
• Or maybe they’ve been beavering away PLANNING for this dump to go down the tubes as payback for the sort of arsehole like me who wants to see his days out after having been born here – expecting a meager PENSION – that sort of thing.

Now hold it there – the dot point #4 is the interesting one from a defence point of view.
Why the fuck would Abbort spend all that moolah on essentially crap, defective aircraft to defend old fart Australians if the silly shithead intends to deny us our pensions?

There really IS something like the ‘elephant in the room’ about that aspect of his ‘dumfoolery’.
So why the fuck would he want to defend the place if every sorry old shit has perished/died from governmental acts of bastardry?

Oh well – just goes to prove how he never thinks his things through.

No problem floppy ears.
The last regime sent us broke.
And now you’ll prove (how they did it) by making as big a dickhead yourself.

Sunday, April 20, 2014



Thursday – the day before Good Friday – this Easter weekend.
I was shopping with my Lady Wife in the local market.

We were minding our own business when the slut from the meth lab over the road ‘suddenly appeared’ at the end of the shopping aisle.

I say ‘suddenly’ because though we spotted her a few minutes before and desperately hoped she would have had enough sense not to play her same fucking silly games in commercial premises as she does out in the street in front of our home.

Unfortunately, a forlorn hope.

Now, I don’t know how you people deal with pig-ignorance out there in the public domain – but I had a fair idea as to what to expect when I spotted that smelly bitch the first time.

Here I was minding my own bloody business and next thing this slut is shoving her shopping trolley into my crutch from about ten feet away – bellowing “excuse me”.

Normally, I’m reasonably good with this sort of encounter.

I could have said something like – “What’s your problem stinky cunt. Shit your pants again, have you ?”
Or something/anything like that.

This time the nasty little article had me completely flummoxed.

What sort of stupid twat would launch her shopping trolley into a bloke’s crutch out there in full public view unless she wanted some sort of argumentative outcome?

Believe me – It isn’t because I’d been bonking the smelly dag.
Wouldn’t go near that poxed slut with the main pole off a square rigger.

So what exactly is the stupid fat arsed bitch up to?

Well, for one thing she and her pals have started brewing methamphetamines again – over the road - just in time for the easter holiday.

The ignorant slut believes that we will give up and move away.
The cow wants us to ‘take the line of least resistance’.

Her problem is that she’s a complete fuckwit – her alleged husband is a braindead dag – and IF they don’t watch their fucking step they might both just end up in shitter’s ditch.

Too hard a concept?

Then too bloody bad for you!

Post Script -
Yes. I've come back to edit the above a little.
You may note that the language as remains is still somewhat offputting.

Maybe that is because the effluent from a meth lab is remarkably toxic.
Not only does it make a person bloody sick - but it tends to leave you in a really short tempered bad mood.

But that's okay.
These wackos are exempt from the law.
I wonder how much protection money they are paying the 'local member'?


It does seem that the Big Apple was once a slave pen.

It continues to be a slave pen.

How the fuck can it continue to be a slave pen when the present president is a friggin’ nigger?


Was reading this historical novel.

Apparently Wall Street, NY, once had a slave market.

Nothing much has changed – HAS IT?

Monday, March 31, 2014


If we can ever believe the ineffectual propaganda machine surrounding that missing airliner – it appears that wherever anyone searches – even the most remote corners of our oceans are so full of garbage that the searchers after aircraft wreckage are being stymied by an overpreponderence of that crap everywhere they search.

Stretching that old joke about ships being moored in port for so long that they’ve grounded on their garbage – so what stopped flight 370 from landing on one of these ‘islands of garbage’?

Or Diego Garcia – or somewhere else on land within its flight radius??

Has the bloody thing been landed on some quiet little superannuated airfield somewhere?

Could it, in fact, be lurking in the Uluru parking lot with a fresh coat of paint??

Who the hell would know!

And it would appear – who the hell would care – except for those who do care about the relatives and friends of the human cargo of that flight.

So, exactly, how many superannuated airfields are there out there within the radius of flight of a boeing 777 out of Kuala Lumpur?

Are they being checked out?

If so then why don’t we know?

If not – then why don’t the relatives and friends of those who were aboard flight 370 know?

In short – the situation has gone beyond pear-shaped – with the ‘relevant authorities’ yet again behaving in the overweeningly predictable way.

Saturday, March 29, 2014


After we published - ‘SOME MIGHT WONDER’ an amazing thing happened.

Suddenly, the next day, all those ‘experts’ decided they were searching too far away from the point of departure of our missing airliner.

Something about them knowing it was flying faster than first expected and therefore, consequently a reduced endurance.

What utter guff.

If they’d (whoever the hell ‘they’ are) been tracking the aircraft well enough to know its airspeed they’d be able to work out that it’d need bloody drop tanks to get to where they’d been searching these past many days.

Nope – we don’t suggest conspiracy – rather they should have checked the public domain specs available for that aircraft.

A few more minutes calculation guesstimating fuel consumption manoeuvring and changing altitude over the Malay Peninsula would have given ‘em a max flight radius and a search zone approximating where they are 'apparently searching' now.

Too many days wasted and all to the detriment of the grieving families awaiting some solid confirmation as to the fate of that aircraft.

Meanwhile why is it that all civil aircraft don’t seem to be fitted with tamper proof active location telemetry?

You know – the same stuff the bosses fit into our road transport vehicles these days to make sure that our truckies don’t stop for a ‘road safety nap’ once too often.

Thursday, March 27, 2014


Some might wonder how the hell an airliner could go missing on a regular flight from Kuala Lumpur to Beijing.

I mean it IS reasonably well controlled airspace.

But somehow it did – according to those regularly monitoring that airspace.
Quite a few people monitoring all that airspace.

But none of ‘em want to make public either what they know or what they don’t know about their tagging of that particular flight.

None of ‘em especially know how the hell it plonked down somewhere in the Indian Ocean way past the time its fuel reserves should have been exhausted.

Put it this way –
Passengers would be horrified if they knew how little fuel reserves were allowed these days to complete a flight.

There have been enough historical instances of aircraft pranging after meeting adverse weather or simply cocking up on approach to their destination – simply lacking enough fuel to do a go-around or two at destination.

So who the fuck is pulling whose leg by pretending this aircraft could pull all these stunts over the South China Sea (as claimed by the press) – then go haring off against a fair amount of detrimental side winds only to ditch in the oggin three quarters of the way to Antarctica?

Of course – with a short passenger list enough extra fuel could have been loaded to almost make that possible.

So – if so, who signed off for that?

The skipper, the co-pilot, or someone back at head office???

Of course the infidel aliens could have abducted them like that Valentich bloke over Bass Strait.
And there might be a freshly repainted Boeing 777 lurking unobtrusively in the parking lot beside Uluru (Ayer’s Rock) – or somewhere else.

But I doubt it.

So what gives with this situation?

I’m too bloody poor to afford a joy flight in a clapped out Tiger Moth.
It amazes me that the local rednecks cannot go fishing in a ten foot tinnie without an automatic emergency beacon aboard.

I mean, who’d want to waste time saving them?

But airliners crewed by --------??????? Get to fly all around the world without any such protection?

Fucked if I know why !!

Thursday, March 20, 2014


Here is a list, an ever expanding list, of what the oz-propaganda machine calls ‘controversies’ – or embarrassments.

Sometimes it is called corruption.

In a real sense it is little more than those god-damned opportunistic raffle winners getting payback on those who, sometime/somehow, have pissed them off.

The ‘media’ – the propaganda machine never mention, certainly never detail the harm these bastards have caused ordinary citizens as they thrash their hedonistic, narcissistic, psychotic path through life.

As they thresh their destructive path through the lives of anyone standing in their way.

And why should they give a fuck anyway?

They know damned well that even if they get caught out their pals in the old boy’s network will bail ‘em out sooner rather than later.

They know bloody well that if they hit immediately and hit hard – they’ll strip anyone who might object to their bestiality of their prime assets – their money.

Besides which they know most Australians are utterly gutless.

And so, in that level playing field of their choosing, they win – time and again.

Tuesday, March 18, 2014


Yep. We have to beat New Zealand at their game.

So in another of those leg-wetting dawn decisions made by the government of newmania/boganvillia – we now have a new flag.

The now tatty old production had the ‘Union Flag’ – often, but incorrectly, known as the Union Jack in the top left-hand corner – with the rest of the rag, as they say, ‘defaced’ by some sort of cross and crown affair.
(See -

However the vice-regal flag of queensland was the ensign of Great Britain with that cross/crown poultice plonked in the middle.

And since these neo-fascist raffle winning wonkers at newman’s beck and call have absolutely no recall nor idea of the great traditions of empire – in their ignorance, they tend to call any flag that looks like the pommy flag – the ‘union jack’.

Which is why the new flag of newmania/boganvillia will have only the slightest name change –
It will be called, instead of the union jack, - the ‘NEWMAN JACK’.

And instead of that dicky little maltese cross an’ crown in the middle – it’ll have a circle featuring a big pink hairy arse with a fat length of pine pole piercing the symbolic fundament so displayed.

See -

That’s to fit in figuratively with his ‘vlad laws’ – as a constant reminder to anyone out there who disagrees with him about almost anything.

Yet queenslanders will swallow it one way or the other.

Those born here and still alive are well used to resignedly being buttfucked by experts.

Those recently arrived from the southern states are probably looking forward to the experience.

Thursday, March 6, 2014


For some reason the rules seem unequal – no ‘level playing field’ at all.

Now, why doesn’t that surprise us?

It doesn’t seem to matter that Australia has been running ‘concentration camps’, of one sort or other, just about forever.

Nor does it matter that the present regime in queensland/newmania/boganvillia are now putting away Australian Citizens on trumped up charges – putting ‘em into solitary, dressed in pinko high viz garb and doing their damnedest to deny them natural justice under ad-hoc, crapola, pretend, legislation – definitely dreamt up in their bowels rather than their heads.

Yep – those ‘vlad’ laws – compiled on the hop by a mob of sickos – as damned near off their trollies as any other bunch of vlad style impalers.

Maybe it has something to do with the mean (average or whatever?) mentality of those that, by default, keep winning the raffles in this dump?

Now that it has become somewhat ‘politically incorrect’ to keep the original people of this land incarcerated all their lives in concentration camps like Cherbourg and Palm Island – that now they have to find other scapegoats upon whom to vent their pathetic inadequacy.

Leastways – that’s the way it seems.

There once was this thing called “The White Australia Policy” – the product of xenophobia from well over a century ago.

Nothing much has changed – except the way our ‘political masters’ increasingly misapply what used to be the rules.

There must be something terribly wrong with a populace so bloody stupid enough to accept and bow under to retrospective legislation – such especially in a state constituted within a commonwealth where legislation exists specifically proscribing retrospective legislation.

Such was queensland just the other year – but apparently not newmania/boganvillia now.
But of course that is only one tiny element of the rule of law that’s being ignored here.

It might be supposed that the populace would be reasonably aware of the important aspects of their fund of law – or at least have a gut feeling about the way it is supposed to work.

But evidently not in newmania/boganvillia.

So, what is the problem with untrammelled power in tin-pot parliaments and the exercise of retrospective legislation?

Say some EXTREMISTS get to win the raffle – then proscribe certain groups or activities.

Like riding surfboards, playing with toy trains, resorting to Chinese restaurants too often, skinny dipping in the moonlight – or anything else some innocent minority group (and their associates) might enjoy.

Can’t you work it out, you imbeciles, that you might be next on the puritan’s list – to be denied justice, reason, and the maintenance of your lifestyle.

In other words newmania/boganvillia doesn’t have a ‘white Australia policy’ these days – it has a ‘black, white AND brindle australia policy’ permitting the shiteheels to arbitrarily lock up anyone they dislike without any justification whatsoever.

Tuesday, March 4, 2014


(Sung to the tune of ‘me and Bobby McGee’.)

We, at ‘Calligula’s Horse’, don’t seem to get all that many cards and letters comin’ in.
Never have, for that matter.

Which doesn’t surprise us as we sit here watching the evolution of the internet and the poisonous way it is being manipulated by all those underpaid and overqualified geeks ground down under the smelly thumbs of the psycho bastards doing the politics these days.

We don’t suppose that the psycho-bastards are any worse than the pre-internet generation of sadistic, manipulative shits, but by God – they seem to be hell-bent on proving otherwise in each and every move they take these days.

So, if a reasonable person stood back and looked at the ‘world situation’ – surely he’d have to admit that there is something morally/legalistically wrong with that alleged great upholder of ‘democracy’, the USof A, putting shit on Mother Russia for pre-emptively deploying troops along her borders with the Ukraine and into Crimea.

With regard to this matter we support ‘Sting’.
‘Russians love their children too’.
And given half a chance they (the Russians) might just for once get to prove it.

They might get to prove it if the stupid manipulative bastards pretending to be the ‘great statesmen’ would just for once back off and give ‘em some leeway on their own patch.

Any chance of that happening?

Only by accident and, hopefully, a certain lack of funds in the seppo (sorry, US) treasury.

At the core of all this shit happening all over the place on our tiny little globe is a few hundred particularly amoral, nasty little people.

Amoral, nasty little people in possession of these little bits of paper.

Worthless little bits of paper on their own – but in the possession of equally worthless, poxed little people who gang together with other equally worthless little people who have no compunction with murder, rapine and terror.

Here in Australia we’ve always been told a crock of outstanding bullshit about how our troops have always exercised a policy of ‘winning the hearts and minds’ of the locals when they’ve been deployed overseas.

And we are absolutely sure that some of ‘em have bust their guts doing exactly that.

Problem is that our grunts have been pretending to have been winning hearts and souls in VietNam, Africa, Iraq, Afghanistan and wherever else - they’ve been ordered to follow the US scourge.

So what the hell is the problem with giving the Russkies a chance, this century, to do better on their own patch?

One thing for sure –
We have this prime minister – an intellectual giant who somehow believes that a ‘force-multiplier’ is a longer set of handlebars on his pushbike.

It is all beyond belief that this ‘wingnut’ is rattling his extended handlebars (or some borrowed sabre) in the general direction of Vladimir Putin and Mother Russia.

Chrissakes abbort, give us a break.
Wouldn’t YOU mobilize your polis if Tasmania decided to secede?

PS – if spelling (like abort instead of abbort) syntax and grammatic errors appear here – then blame ‘google’ and their nazi bloody auto spellcheck.
From now on we give up chasing the tail of that shitbox.

Monday, March 3, 2014


Here we go again.
A kernel of truth in schoolbook history.

Here’s the prĂ©cis –

Greater Russia has always had a problem maintaining ice-free ports.

It appears that premier Kruschev made a colossal boo-boo many years ago by putting the Crimean peninsula into the hands of those Ukranians – who at the time seemed to be happy soviets.

No problem then – but now the show has gone pear shaped.

Apparently, these days, the Russians have no right to make claim on their traditional territory and areas of interest.

I may be wrong – but for some reason I seem to remember a stoush between the Imperial Russians and some loose alliance between the Brits, the French and the Turks – back then in the mid 18-hundreds.

I may be wrong – but didn’t that campaign feature some incredibly stupid acts on the part of the interventionists?
Like the futile ‘charge of the Light Brigade’?
Like dying like flies?

I may be wrong – but didn’t the Russians fight like devils to hold on to their ice free ports in the Black Sea.

I might be wrong – but didn’t they finally gain the moral advantage, then, against supposedly overwhelming odds on numerous fronts?

I may be wrong that shit like that sticks in the National craw.

Perhaps I’m wrong that Russia and the Russian people might by now have developed something of a ‘race memory’ about being spectacularly stuffed about that way.

Might not there be some events that have likewise burred them up since then?

And now everyone is upset because they’ve been smart enough to move in remarkably quickly in order to forestall an internecine bloodbath in the Ukraine/Crimea.
Back here in Oz – the stupid bloody wingnut, with what?
The wingnut with bugger all more than six or eight thousand grunts has to stick his paddle in.
Say, six regiments, a few second-hand AFVs, sub-standard ordnance and a few defective vehicles – and this idiot (through diplomatic channels) has to tell the Russkies to back off.

He tells the Russkies to back off just precisely when they are dropping off a small team of 25000 (or so our propaganda people admit) of their remarkably well-equipped soldiers for a ‘defence exercise’ just next door to the Ukraine.

(So what might happen if that Vlad Putin decided to drop a few of his spare ‘specialists’ into, say, queensland?
That’d put a spar through noddies vlad laws, wouldn’t it?)

ANYONE WITH HALF A BRAIN – could work out that the next few days will tell.

The next few days will determine whether the threat to Mother Russia may be managed without invasion and bloodshed.

Anyone with half a brain would be down on their knees praying that the Russians can manage the situation without a shot being fired.

Anyone with half a brain can see that the west will try to fuck their situation up.

Anyone with half a brain can see (if the propaganda people are reporting the truth) that the Russkies are busting their guts to make sure that no shots (pray god) are ever fired.

And in this new century – if they can manage that – where would that leave the good ol’ boys of the USofA and their bloodthirsty record these last many years?

It’d make ‘em look like prize turkeys, wouldn’t it?

HEY – The world moves on.
Tom Clancy novels are now passe’.

Putin’s pragmatism is prime – and all the sabre rattling from the captive west is past any joke.

PS – ‘Captive west’?
Energy – fuel – resources.
Put an embargo on Russia now – and freeze your European butts off next winter.

Thursday, February 27, 2014


Incredible that after only a few short months Australia has been divested of its automotive, manufacturing, transport, logistics, food security – and my guess is as good as yours.

After all that behind the scenes planning with Gillard and co. – the abbort must really be feeling sick in the guts.

The poor silly bastard must have believed he’d been handed the dump on a plate – until recently.

But what went wrong?

This isn’t the USUAL handover from laborite to liberal.

In the past despite all their griping they usually were given a nation with all those labour relations situations stabilized – so they could play the hard bastard and fuck it all up again.

But this time – not so.

After all, politics is a TIDAL thing.

For instance, here in what was once queensland – now newmania/boganvillia – the tide is in and we’re all drowning in newman’s bikie vomit.

Whereas, down the road, their political mates, the miracle workers of capitalism – have, as mentioned, equally screwed up.

Surely there must be a message there for them?

Take the ‘Queensland and Northern Territory Air Service’, (QANTAS), for instance.

Take the person allegedly running that show?

IF some dweeb cannot run a business. If he can’t make a profit – then he should go.

It matters not in the least about the ‘culture’ circumstance or operating environment – if he can’t make it work – then he should go.

Back to that TIDAL thing – the ups and downs, the see-saw of the capitalist cycle has given Mr. Joyce sufficient time to improve his performance – yet he doesn’t seem quite able to ‘crack the cherry’ of civil aviation.

He wants QANTAS (a national/strategic asset) to be sold off to the lowest bidder.

He seems to want it sold off to the lowest bidder ‘cos that’s where his efforts, such as they were, have driven it down to.

It has taken him some years to drive QANTAS down to that situation.

But more recently mr abbort and his pals have put the whole commonwealth of Australia in the same situation in only a matter of a few months.

There definitely is something wrong with this picture – not only with the likes of the brain-dead right – abbort and joyce – but also with those of the supposed laborite camp – the backstabbing laborite camp who sold the last raffle to these traitors.

Tuesday, February 25, 2014


Stap me if I can begin to understand the pathetic, namby-pamby response from the latter day citizens of ‘boganvillia’.

They simply don’t seem able to ‘grasp the nettle’ of the first principle.

And that goes this way –
• If those we are stupid enough to elect (and all they are - are a species of raffle winners) begin carrying on in a way that is detrimental to the traditions and mores of our society –
• And if those raffle winners continue to act in ways hostile to the usual course of our society –
• Then they should be made to go.

By now there is enough solid evidence as well as a world of anectdotal evidence out there demonstrating that the vlad laws are utterly beyond the pale even for a crackpot dump like queensland/newmania/boganvillia.

Put it this way –
The boganvillia bit was caused by the northern migration of southern biomass. Some to provide grunt for the now collapsing ‘resources’ industry – the rest to act obnoxiously in our streets.
A by-product of that was their complete and utter lack of understanding of queensland politics and the danger of letting the nazi rednecks back into the roost.

In short their pig-ignorance directly led to the ‘newmania’ phenomenon aided and abetted by the utter incompetence of both the beattie and bligh regimes.

This is something that queenslanders have had to contend with since 1922.

It goes this way –

How the hell do you vote out a mob of corrupt bludgers when the alternative is nothing but another mob of corrupt bludgers.

That’s exactly why since time immemorial every successful political establishment has had two houses and effective checks and balances incorporated in their systems.

But not in poor fucking queensland – nor in an ever expanding list of other failed states.

But newman, like bligh, beattie and that petersen – can’t grasp the simple fact that he’s supposed to be acting in our collective interest.

Nope – He’s acting purely in his own interest and that of his pals.

He’s pulled this ‘bash the bikies’ stunt as a gamble with his fingers and toes crossed into pretzels.

And he’s going to fail.

He will fail for the simple reason that enough decent people DO still remember the various concentration camps of last century, are less than impressed with the seppos and gitmo bay, and are becoming increasingly, righteously pissed off with the treatment of legitimate refugees by our pathetic klatch of federal raffle winners.

Then when this little corporal in boganvillia starts the same game with Australian citizens – while admittedly it’ll take time for the pot to begin simmering – the pot will inevitably begin to boil.

And when it does – that boiling kack will hit the fan.

Fuck me! It’s incredible.
I never would have believed that I’d have to defend such a useless mob of bludgers as our bikers.

There can be only one reason for justifying that.
That there exists an even MORE USELESS MOB of BLUDGERS exploiting the raw firepower of another corrupt secret society in order to give them a bad time.

It is nothing more nor less than the old sideshow shell game.
Wave the arms about and shout a lot.

That’s all you need to do to distract the punters, rip ‘em off and screw them blind for their last cent.

God’s sakes! Even the Robber friggin’ Barons of old had enough brains to give their own people a bit of leeway and grudgingly permit ‘em half a living on their own patch.

Even bjelke bloody petersen knew enough to let that.

So what gives?
Is this some grand new social experiment being conducted by these arseholes – to see how far we can be pushed?

Or is this some generational thing?
Are you all so stupid and heartlessly greedy that you somehow believe you can climb onto and over the shoulders of these raffle winning creeps?

Churchill said a few things germane to what queenslanders are enduring under newman’s lunacy –
"You have enemies? Good. That means you’ve stood up for something, sometime in your life."
“If you have ten thousand regulations you destroy all respect for the law.”
“A lie gets halfway around the world before the truth has a chance to get its pants on.”

Monday, February 24, 2014


Question –
Why does campbell newman look like a bald, mangy, parrot?

Maybe most of you reading this won’t be old enough.
When I was a kid my mum used to buy these weekly magazines.
One I remember well was called “Post”.

There was a reader’s page at the back of “Post” that for some reason never had contributions from anywhere else in Australia other than the state of victoria.

Even then, the contributions most often came from rural Victoria and the bulk from some dump called horsham,victoria.
(Apparently moe, victoria hadn’t been invented then and anything from real Kelly country was still under strong censorship back in those bad old days.)

But I digress –
‘Australian Post’ came out once a week – but at least twice a month there would be some mucky/blurry, Box Brownie, black and white snapshot of some poxed old parrot – bald as a coon – but fitted out in some knitted item of avian apparel clacked together by its doting ‘mum’.

In some respects it goes to prove the honest devotion, the altruism of our Australian people.

On the other hand it ably demonstrates how sterile and futile is our pathetic existence – that all we might have left to care about in the twilight of our years is a diseased parrot in knitted overalls.

Maybe it was something to do with the ‘victorian’ mentality.

But stap me – I digress again.
This was about the premier.
Not that ‘beyond blue’ bastard from Victoria – but the baldy, poxed, by cracky, neo-nazi parachuted into queensland.

That’s right.
I was recalling how much HE looked like those succession of warty, parrots in nanny knitted, parrot sized, overalls – all those years ago in the back pages of ‘Post Magazine’.

But HE isn’t a poor poxy parrot – is he?

He isn’t a baldy joke – is he?

No way.

He’s a poisonous piece of work so far to the right of what Pauline Hansen’s hit men could ever have imagined.

He’s one particularly nasty little article – of the worst sort our remarkably flawed military system could ever produce.

And while queensland has been going through a world of upheaval and demographics change these last two decades – it seems that even the overwhelming migration of southern flat-heads and imbeciles are beginning to see through the guff being ejaculated/ expectorated/ blurted out (whatever) by this bald parrot premier and his mates in his fascist zoo.

Or so the recent Redcliffe by-election seems to prove.

So if we call this an open letter to fuhrer newman of boganvillia –
Goes this way –
“Mein fuhrer
Herr campbell newman,

Gruss Gott,

My fuhrer,
This evening I was taking out the garbage.
While I was undertaking that task – one of your police vehicles intercepted a motorist just over the road.
The officer/driver of that police vehicle alighted from his vehicle – walked forward to the vehicle he had intercepted then began bellowing at the driver of that vehicle.
In the time taken for me to drag my garbage bin the few metres to the front of my home – that strange incident was over.
The police officer was returning to his vehicle.

I am not a person of fast thinking – nor much acquainted with police procedure – yet decided to call out to that retreating policeman, something like – “Hey officer – since you have stopped there why not go and bust that meth lab over the road”.

Naturally, I knew that he’d hunch his shoulders and get back into his patrol car.

After all – he is new on the job in the electorate of the police minister, the fuhrer’s mate.

Shit yeah – questions here in boganvillia do require answers.

So my fuhrer.
What exactly gives in this outstandingly corrupt dump?

Now, in these short few months of your nauseating regime, that you’ve reduced the dump to ever worse than joh, beattie and bligh could ever have organized in their zaniest dreams – do you reckon that you can collect your pension and just move away?

Yeah. I’d expect so – you overweening creep!”

Saturday, February 22, 2014


Thank god for that.

We had a by-election yesterday and a few people in that electorate finally told that obnoxious item, newman, the way of the world.

A few people even turned up at the hustings to let him know what a stupid bastard he really is.

Then comes the BIG problem.

To sack that silly nazi cunt – the punters have to vote laborite – if they want to get rid of the article.

Sheesh - a hobson’s choice.

In other words – a choice between a complete pain in the arse (which we already have) – and a complete nothing (which is all the laborites can offer).

What a complete fuckup queensland has become!

Christ almighty – where do we go from here?

Seriously – where the hell CAN we go from here?


I wonder how newman and co will screw about tomorrow’s by-election in queensland/newmania/boganvillia?

Any reasonable person would expect what they call – a swing.

Let’s see if the voters of – where the hell is it? – condone coppers lurking the streets, targeting ladies out at night – and gang-banging their targets.

Now, why the hell would I say something like that?

Can I tell you for free?

It goes this way.

The obnoxious little article that won the raffle here – for some strange reason became the minister for police.

Imagine that a sergeant of police has somehow become the minister for police in this sad-sack of a state.

All been said before.
How the fuck can someone so conflicted with interest be plonked into such a serious job?

Imagine how all those commissioned pigs barf down the front of their tiddly little uniforms when they have to report to such a smarmy – article.

So, wipe all that aside all you people living in queensland/newmania/boganvillia – and look at our situation from the point of view of those outside this corrupt dump.

Any honest/decent people wanting to invest in this place wouldn’t touch the dump with a bargepole.

If you wanted to make an honest buck here – you wouldn’t stand a chance.

But for some reason we original queenslanders have to gag on the airborne product of the meth labs and the like – somehow THEY are exempt from the attentions of police and of our member of parliament.

So why the hell are these raffle winning arseholes so fucking intent on picking on those pathetic bikers?


Something our useless, corrupt, mob of raffle winners only apply to what directly suits their greedy, immediate purpose.

When the last laborite raffle winner – acting as the minister for communications was doing his best to censor the internet – he set up the situation where his conservative replacement could carry on with his infamy.

Which means his predecessors in parliament are now expunged from the public record.

(A bloke can’t even access Paul Keating jamming it into downer or howard any more.)

Any reasonable person with an iota of knowledge about the way Australia works wouldn’t expect anything different.

The whole show is nothing but a load of neo nazi shite.

One mob of raffle winners pretending that they represent the electorate just wind the ratchet tighter until the ‘electorate’ have had enough of their bullshit.

Then, naturally, the dimwit ‘electorate’ cast a vote sending that load of imbeciles into the weeds.

Whereupon the opposing team take up essentially the same hateful policies dumping us further into the murk of insignificance.

It really is a fantastic system – affording no-one of integrity, reasonableness, or ethical standing any opportunity whatsoever to take their place in the public affairs of our nation.

“Continuance of governance”.
What a fucking complete joke.

I have absolutely no idea where the snotty, smallbrained, flat-headed, dickwits of either major parties find their regional offerings for the grand raffle – but by god it might make a change if they found one of some simple merit.

Just for once or twice – perhaps they could find some completely crosswired arsehole who was so completely off his trolley that he was focussed more on the National Interest than lining his hip pocket.

I expect not.


Censorship in a ‘democracy’?

I’ve been attempting to open a few items of record on U-tube tonight.

It appears that some of the humour of John Clarke and Bryan Dawe is now proscribed – as are a fair deal of Paul Keating’s speeches in parliament.

Does that surprise me?

Wednesday, February 19, 2014


Funny that. The RAN can’t navigate – according to those who would know these things.

According to the latest raffle winners – our navy cannot navigate.

Of course – those bludgers would know.

They won their raffle and told the navy to turn back those boats.

In doing so – it was noted that they’d ‘accidentally’ entered Indonesian waters ‘six times’ since the abbort team won their raffle a few weeks ago.

Of course it is the navy’s fault.

Of course – our naval officers in command gain their navigational certificates from TAFE these days.

And naturally all the navigational aids like GPS have been stripped from our naval vessels and installed in commonwealth cars - as an economy measure recently implemented by the abbort government.

No bloody wonder they don’t know which side of new Zealand they have to invade.

Simple, isn’t it – when it is all explained properly?

Tuesday, February 18, 2014


Late last month was my sixtieth birthday.
I have decided that I cannot stomach living in a brutal society.

The newman regime in queensland/newmania/boganvillia is enough to give any reasonable person the shits.

Now, the federal/abbort regime is coming out of its closet and revealing its true colours.

But, what the hell – if Gillard was representing socialist values during all those mark-time, wasted years – then I’m a friggin’ monkey’s uncle.

The whole show was about deconstructing Australia and preparing it for a complete collapse.
In so short a time – dump – dump dump – dump.

Just dump the remnants of our industry and our manufacturing into the great big black hole of goodbye.

I’ve watched it happen for a few decades now.
Any silly bastard wanting to contribute to this corrupt society gets the chop sooner, rather than later.

The arseholes who stack the raffles so that they win the raffles want to sell off our raw material assets without any value adding whatsoever.

Anyone wanting to design and then create something worthwhile here - by actually utilizing Australian raw materials - value adding that way - is public enemy number one.

And all you fat, useless, gormless, do-nothing bludgers out there seem to agree with them.

Meanwhile, the last few days seem to have opened up an embarrassing can of worms about our treatment of refugees.

Looks like we (or people contracted to do that sort of thing) are now shooting and chopping down refugees.
Without a doubt, that looks good in the books.

In summary, the country and the economy is fucked and so is our standing in the world.

Golly. I’m so pleased that I voted for jughead’s team.

Sunday, February 9, 2014


In old queensland the pork (police farce) usually had to be pretty well convinced as to facts and circumstance to progress with a charge of rape.

If, by the time it hit the headlines, the matter was progressed – the fate of the perpetrator/s was usually sealed.

How that situation might pan out in newmania/boganvillia is another matter.

We have two of boganvillia’s finest charged, released on bail – and believe it or not – suspended on FULL PAY?

Oh, for pity’s sake.
How many more years of this crap are we expected to endure from one autocratic regime to the next?

Let’s be up front about it.
Back in the good old days pack rape used to be a weekend sport.
Various ‘sports clubs’ used to indulge in the practice as did quite a few of the ‘service clubs’.

Even a few of the bikies eventually used to get their ends into the poor raddled hags left over from that ‘pecking order’.

These days, any reasonable person might conclude that the fear of AIDS, (The jolly old Grim Reaper) should have concluded that sort of activity decades ago.

But it appears not to be so.

It appears that the pigs of boganvillia ARE PAID to roam the streets at night.
It appears that they get to DEPRIVE anyone they fancy of THEIR LIBERTY.

Then they get to rape ‘em.

Get that. –
Then they get to, WooHoo, RAPE THEM, the prize arseholes – (like taxi drivers, as perks for their job).

Are you with me on that tiny matter – about how sick our pretend society really is?

These goons get paid (it appears) to rape our women; our wives, sisters, mothers, aunts, cousins and nieces.

There are two ways of looking at this situation.

We could firstly pull a coup on the arseholes condoning this stuff – drag them by their heels to a court of justice.

Big problem that – finding any court of REAL justice in boganvillia would be a feat beyond a miracle!

Or we could call on ‘all good men and true’ in newmania in order to suppress this sort of outrage.

But where the fuck would you find such as them in this corrupted dump?

Are you with me?
Let the good burghers loose in posse comitatus and within an hour, undoubtedly, they’ll be raping the women of our police farce.

NOPE – this dump has had it and no amount of crocodile tears from any commissioned pig will ever convince me otherwise.

‘Fouled/Fucked Up Beyond All Recall’

Such is the once queensland –
And it has taken the ‘masters of power’, themselves, to demonstrate that situation for us all.

Old queensland/newmania/boganvillia is on the edge of complete collapse.

Sunday, February 2, 2014


It probably doesn’t matter.
A bloke does his best in the time he’s allotted and at some stage all he can manage is to repeat the beliefs of his youth.

Yet some of us somehow managed to make an impression.

Peter Seeger was one who through his music – most definitely made an impression.

More importantly – just by hanging in there – he outlasted some incredibly pompous bastards by more than a few years.

So when Pete struts through his particular edition of the pearly gates I sincerely trust that some voluptuous valkyrie will hand him a set of binoculars so he can look down on the likes of Churchill burning below, in his own hell.

But no. That isn’t his style.

And neither would Winston put up with such an overview – whatever hell he has had to endure since dropping off the perch.

So what is the score for us all at the end of creation?

Each of us finally has to die.

Another way of looking at that situation is that the entire bloody multiverse is extinguished at exactly the same time we choose to depart the mortal coil.

Can you comprehend that?

What does a bloke take away from us when he dies?

Why would a fellow bust his gut to leave something of himself behind?

Know what I mean – like Seeger the muso – Churchill, the ratbag politico – and so many others outside the square.

How few of us leave anything of ourselves and our nature for posterity.

How so few of us comprehend that we are able and that therefore we can.

Monday, January 27, 2014


It never ceases to amaze how the punters keep putting their trust in reivers.

Keep trusting the glib, lying bastards.

Keep putting their own stringy necks down on self-supplied chopping blocks.

Keep believing the lies of the propaganda machine and keep believing that their little piece of paper with their easily changed pencil scratches amounts to their one and only contribution to ‘democracy’.

I piss myself laughing these days to see all these fuckwits silly enough to wear that nauseating high vis clothing – that flouro crap – as they go about their menial tasks out there in the street.

Some even seem to believe that their SLAVE UNIFORM lends them some small status;
the poor silly bastards.

The Poms called it ‘livery’ – as in something arranged to differentiate the beasts from their masters – a practice likely adopted from the Romans.

All of which is totally unimportant except for the fact that so many dullards have somehow been conned into dressing like complete loons in this day and age of alleged democracy.

Wake up and think it through you dolts.
It isn’t about safety at all.
It’s about making you all look like complete jokes and prize loons.

Trust me, you do; especially you lot of the foreman/overseer class with your cute, bright orange/ retroflective stripe, ensembles.

If you have a problem with that – consider how the three arseholes of the apocalypse want to dress the bikies during their stay in the concentration camps.

Work it through, you dills.


Leastways back when we were young and immortal it was often proposed via the ‘media’ that elements of the expatriate Vietnamese community living in Australia were systematically annexing property in certain suburbs surrounding our capital cities.

In fact, driving people away from family homes through the use of intimidation escalating toward and ultimately resulting in violence.

Which is probably why the emigrant filth ejected from the southern states are using the same tactics against honest citizens here in boganvillia.

And since so many of our raffle winners are themselves rejects from the southern states – displaying the same perverse interest in manipulative property acquisition and total disregard for ethics and morality in their dubious undertakings – it is no bloody wonder that this once proud redneck state is fucked beyond recall.

Friday, January 24, 2014


Was once queensland – was temporarily ‘newmania’ – is now known as ‘boganvillia’.
And they ride through our skies at night.

What; hey: who does?
Well, ‘the three arseholes of the apocalypse’ do.

Leastways, their pigs roam the streets, their aircraft patrol the highways – they tell us that their ‘drones’now zip about above any ‘incident of their interest’, say, like a damned good party.

In consequence, no silly innocent cunt is safe in our streets at night from the depredations of these raffle winners in temporary control of a police farce somehow become infinitely worse than joh’s corruptibles could ever have imagined becoming.

These wirebound arseholes (these goddamned ‘fundamentalists’ with their vlad, the impaler laws) seem to have forgotten that grinding a few million halfwits under their ‘panopticon’ might result in an adverse reaction to so much unwarranted ‘supervision’.

Put it this way –
Noddy newman has to retire sometime in the future.
As do the other arseholes of his apocalypse.

When they do and when they predictably retire offshore – there will be someone waiting and watching for them to access their ill gotten gains from their private, offshore bank accounts.

And when they try – they’ll be in the slam as quick as boiled asparagus too.

When will they ever learn to leave well enough alone?

Wednesday, January 22, 2014


Hey newman!
I have this letter before me 3/5/2013 from your staffer, ‘Michael Prain’.

He advises us that you ‘understand’ that the death threats bellowed through our front windows are making us ‘very anxious’.

You can say that again, arsehole.

Especially when your police farce want to arrest me for being the recipient of those threats.

I mean, fuck me noddy, where is your head at f’r chrissakes.

I realise the cunt doesn’t ride a motorcycle – but that wasn’t mentioned in your vlad legislation either.

Now, while I do appreciate that the worm is a defrocked cop or something even worse – he’s still brewing meth, is completely off his trolley on some power trip of his own – and consequently needs to be dealt with sooner rather than later.

But for some reason that cunt and his pals seem to be exempt from the law.

I mean, in the immortal words of one of your raffle winning pals, noddy – fair suck of the sauce bottle –
If I were one of your fuckwit, redneck, pals – I’d expect you to have this manipulative, meth brewing, psycho over the road arrested months ago – ON THE BASIS OF YOUR OWN LEGISLATION.

But you won’t do that – ‘cos the cunt is of your sort.
He brews meth.
He struts around the neighbourhood like a prize turkey (apparently under the protection of your political police).
He’s more than obviously doing his best to annex and consolidate property around here to create a little ‘power patch’ of his own. (The old Vietnamese gambit)
He’s doing that in the electorate of your ‘police minister’.
And it has become bloody obvious that he’s exempt from law and his bullying bullshit is condoned by your police farce.

All that seems to align with what a horde of people have solidly stated in the public domain about your previous conduct in Brisbane council.

Best put it this way –
We’ve gone through official channels – but your pigs keep threatening us every time we complain.
I have letters here from your office, from the regional pork headquarters and from your CMC.

Yet the pig-dogs over the road and up the street (all opposite a state school) keep acting like Mafiosi loonies and your ‘police’ keep threatening us –
Keep threatening us for what – newman?

Keep threatening us for refusing to move away from our home and go live under some friggin’ bridge.

But you and your sort of excrement will keep up the pressure, won’t you, you arseholes.

Bikies out – politically correct meth brewers in.
Defrocked, psychopathic pigs and utter nutters from every corner of the extended families of the sicko-politosphere .

Yep. A brave new wirebound world.

What a fucking shame that, back in 1922, those slimy laborites who shagged our upper house didn’t write a clause requiring queensland politicians to be queensland born.

If they’d managed that – most of the prize fuckwits causing us all this grief would never have been elected.

Including the present fuhrer.


Consider the following -

Keyword – TONTINE.

In other words a bunch of wirebound mafia style arseholes clubbing together with a few spare bucks.

They hate each other’s guts – but they hate everyone else more.

And the game they play among themselves is completely ruthless – unto death.

Implicit in ‘tontine’.


Apparently, these days in boganvillia, you can be locked up for wearing a ring on your little pinkie.

Their police farce have decided that a cheapjack item of jewellery inscribed with ‘1%’ condemns the wearer as an ‘outlaw bikie’.

I beg to differ.

Actually, that ‘1%’ ring is a rare award offered only to the top 1% of the ‘Society of Honest Accountants’.

Of course, noddy newman or any of his corrupt tontine never mix with honest people.

Which probably explains their error.


Did I hear right?

According to our propaganda service the boganvillia police farce have actually charged a bloke for refusing to take off his ‘Harley Davidson™ leather jacket.

In other words, according to these fuckwits, he’s a criminal for wearing protective clothing provided by a reputable motorcycle manufacturer.

This is utter bullshit.



Mea culpa –
Although I’m reasonably sure I heard a news report giving an account of the above – the only information I’m able to ‘google’ since then - is about some ‘outlaw bikies’ beating up on some bloke wearing a harley jacket.

Which proves what?
• Obviously that its risky wearing Harley Davidson™ jackets in boganvillia -
• that these ‘bikies’ evidently saw this wannabe in the harley jacket before the cops noticed him –
• and that, between one lot of ratbags and another, the whole world has gone to shit.

Whatever the situation – as my Grandma used to say – two ‘wrongs’ don’t make for a ‘right’.

Speaking of Grandmother – her husband, my Grandfather was a member of a secret society back when boganvillia was queensland.
Not only was he a member of a secret society but of an unlawful society.

Which is why he quit that society when he worked out what the arseholes, on a regular basis, were up to.

He gave ‘em the bum’s rush, did old WT.

But what society?

Stap me; those perfidious play templars, of course.
The bloody freemasons.
Thankfully, no amount of retroactive legislation can bother Pop much – since he’s been dead for more than half a century.

But nothing would surprise me lately.

It could well be that the three arseholes of the apocalypse (newman, Dempsey and that jarrod thing) might get dressed up in their bedsheets, dig the poor old bugger up and burn his bones.

Wouldn’t surprise me at all!

Tuesday, January 14, 2014


He said it to the world again today.

He doesn’t ‘like’ his ‘vlad legislation’.

Which means, if he doesn’t ‘like’ his reign of terror being dumped on the head of any silly bastard riding a scooter in boganvillia – that someone was pulling his ‘noddy strings’ in order to have that crap introduced.

Which means he’s nothing but a friggin’ PUPPET.

So who the hell is pulling his strings, then?



One day you bludgers – you SHEEPLE – might wake up.
This time last year a fair deal of this little town was flooded.
That’s when the corrupt bastards made their move.

So much went underwater for so long that too many moved on.

When they did move on – what one week was a poor man’s lifelong bad bargain (sold to some poor, ignorant blow-in peasant in the first place) became a total loss expediting his moving on elsewhere.

Whereupon the parasites annexed what he believed was his - at basement prices.

All of which was just too bloody bad – but what can you do in these extreme circumstances?

After all those dirt poor southern immigrants from rural Victoria and nsw aren’t exactly solid citizens, are they?

And we need to do something about the drug problem they’ve brought up here with them.


So suck ‘em in, set ‘em up and rip ‘em off – then send them on their sorry way – somewhere else.

Sorry, cunt – didn’t we tell you that you’d bought into flood-prone land?

Too bloody bad for you – but there it is.

Amazingly enough – those same flood prone dwellings have recently been repaired.

Repaired in good time for the next mob of innocent southern punters to move in – just in time for the next fucking flood.

I only bother mentioning this because I was stupid enough to have been born here.
I never had to mention this in the past when this corrupt little burg was being run by those born here.
I didn’t have to mention it in their day because those born here, running the show then, despite being thoroughly corrupt, were not vicious, unscrupulous parasites.

No. Their sort have expired.
They’ve been replaced by a crop of southern blow-ins perfectly prepared to exploit their own.

A wonderful place this queensland/boganvillia has become.

Southern criminals ripping the guts out of southern dunderheads while the few remaining northern gentlemen either put out their hands for a cut of the action or turn their heads away in utter disgust.


Two articles ago, in these pages, a bloke who died over fifty years ago was mentioned.

Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction.

As best as we can tell what was once Eddie Walsh’s home was busted by our bold gendarmerie as a meth lab. (Mind you - it does have me completely buggered why Eddie came to mind – why I was writing about him when his cottage was being raided.)

Of course Eddie wouldn’t give a continental about that since he’s been dead for over fifty years.

Nonetheless, at least some of the stench poisoning us in cycles in this neighbourhood has been coming from what was once his humble home.

His once humble home IS INDEED a bit upwind from us.

But so are other, more convenient locations – so to continue -

Trouble is that his little cottage is not big enough to contain enough equipment to cause the industrial scale pollution that we’ve been subject to the last few years.

Nope. That nausea has been coming from the compound a little closer to us.

Know what I mean – closer, bigger, involving more people – nastier people – people who seem to be able to call on the local cops whenever someone complains.

Funny that.
My lady Wife had this tiny health problem – like down to 20% renal function.
The Ha Ha ‘health system’ couldn’t provide an explanation.

I could.
Systematic poisoning from airborne meth lab effluent – not from old Eddie’s cottage – but from the surviving, unbusted, police protected and condoned, industrial scale, meth factory just over the road.

To put all that into plain language –
The police are all corrupt beyond any recall.
Their political masters intend to sack any remaining cops who display any sign of honesty.

The political masters of this regime are in no way different from the last mob of meretricious laborites – except for the fact that the laborites are gone and the lnp filth now hold the chequebooks.

Both of these tontines mutually agreed to sell off what little is left of queensland years ago.

Meanwhile, the rest of these goddamned ‘new party’ maggots are trying to capture what might be left at the tail end of the action.

A useless, dysfunctional, non-functional, unicameral, pretence of a parliament is the tool of their collective criminality – and beyond miracles – there is fuck all anything any of us can do about it!

Is that why our new age pigs condone industrial scale meth labs?

After all – who gives a fuck about the serfs in this dump?

Hey – we’ll all soon be under new management anyway.


Why bother voting any more?

Vote for the present reich in queensland/newmania/boganvillia and you might find that the chairman, secretary and treasurer of your netball team or bridge club will be next to be locked up without bail, in solitary confinement.

Just like those ‘bikies’.

Then when they pull YOU up for, say, a ‘random breath test’ – then YOU might be joining them.

Yet, unless the propaganda bureau is lying – the laborites agreed with noddy newman’s crapola.

Bullshit they agreed.

It was those previous laborite arses with ears that handed him their draft legislation when he slimed into ‘power’.

One parcel of these manipulative psychopaths is as bad as the other.

So why not vote for Mr Palmer and his five daughters?

Go on; take a guess.
Try contacting his ‘party machine’.
Waste your own money trying to contact any of his ‘team’.

Discover for yourself that ‘he and his team’ are somewhat like the other parties and our so called ‘representatives’.

Like ‘Major Major’ in “Catch 22” they are ‘out when they are in’ and ‘in when they are out’.

• “Major Major is a commander who doesn't command. He hates dealing with people, and is somewhat frightened of them. He therefore instructs his receptionist/orderly that, whenever he is in his office, any visitors should be told he is out. When he leaves his office (sneaking out the back window), the receptionist can send visitors in to see him. In short, the only time you can see Major Major in his office is when he's out. If he's in, you can't see him. It's an example of Catch-22, although the catch is not explicitly mentioned in this connection.”]

So, what exactly is the point of voting for ANY of these prize arseholes?

Tuesday, January 7, 2014


It used to be our local corner store back in the day when supermarkets didn’t exist.

Old Jock Stockwell owned the place then and I went to school with his daughter.
In fact, little Jeanette was my very first girl-friend.

In those days many corner stores were located near schools and thus provided a vital service to the community and pupils, both.

Jock was quite innovative and provided, in microcosm, all those years ago, what supermarkets are busting their guts to do these days.

Jock networked with local suppliers and was brilliant at offering a range of seasonal local delicacies fruit veggies, smallgoods – as well as keeping his stocks of staples and supplies – fresh and within their use-by-date.

Then an elderly lady neighbour of his had to move on.
Jock acquired her residence and built a new shop front on that residence, directly next-door to his original corner store.

It may not have been the best commercial decision he made since he was fairly close to retirement age and having to sell off his original corner store to people who converted it into a ‘fish and chip shop’ - on top of building new premises - must have eaten into some of his turnover from the local schoolkids.

Yet he soldiered on in his new shop for a few years and if anything his turnout just kept improving while the brats attending the new fast food joint just kept getting fatter, pimplier and uglier.

Back to Jock -
Somehow he seemed to know beforehand, when my old man had become bored smoking ‘Rothmans’ and wanted to change to ‘Camels’, or something, for a few weeks.
Or if it was paper clips, a mapping pen, exercise book, or a bottle of red ink – he had it in stock too.

Likewise for the regular tin of ham, loaf of fresh bread, or occasional tin of special jam for poor old Eddie Walsh down the corner.

If some snotty nosed kid walked in and muttered – “givusaslicerwatermelun, mister” –
Jock would have this green, cylindrical, object lying on the bench and a wickedly sharp knife in his hand.

Before you could blink Jock would have extorted threepence for a paper thin slice of tissue wrapped water melon, tapped the snotty brat on the top of his head and sent him on his happy way.

Jock wasn’t just smart – he was, in his quiet way, a showman who, were he a samurai in another lifetime, would have wielded his tool of trade with equal precision.

The same with his doling out ice cream cones or anything else in his inventory.

No archbishop could have done more of a show-man-like job with the Host.

He knew each and all of his customers intimately – knew their foibles and ways, and bloody well knew how to keep them happy despite wrenching every penny he could out of their pockets.

But Jock, for his own reasons, decided to retire and move away.
He didn’t go broke – he packed up with his family, moved out of town, and as far as I know has never come back.

I believe he decided to take his nest-egg away to Brizzo where his youngest, the ‘Dux of the school’, my first girlfriend, might acquire some semblance of education.

Meanwhile, afterwards, over the road, a succession of ill-financed punters did their best to exploit Jock’s legacy.

The times have changed and schoolkids have progressively, increasingly, been actively discouraged from attending those traditional corner stores which served the generations so well.

Oh, it takes quite a while for our political masters to screw everything up for everyone.

As I mentioned, Jock, the canny old bastard, saw the writing on the wall and took steps – bloody long steps away from the futility of trying to make an honest buck in this locality.

Jock may have only been a shopkeeper – but his apparent rule, like Wellington, was ‘never reinforce failure’.

But he didn’t mind selling off his assets to gamblers more stupid than him.

And so the times change.

Since his time, living over the road, we’ve seen a dozen or more punters moving in and attempting to make a go of a lost cause in that superannuated dump over the road.

We’ve known all of those decent people doing their damnedest, these last few decades, to make a go of what Wellie would call a ‘forlorn hope’.

We’ve known them because they were mostly damned good neighbours – and even if we disagreed – or they didn’t agree with whatever was happening here – we were still neighbours able to meet and talk things through.

All of which was fairly ‘neighbourly’ until the present set of un-neighbourly prize arseholes turned up there a few years ago.

They moved in, set up shop and a few days after I went over to order a snack.

Most long term residents tend to be put off by new owners treating, us, their neighbour customers, like a smear of shit they’d found under their shoes.

I’m stupid. I placed my order, paid up front (BIG mistake), said I’d be back in 20 minutes to pick up my spring roll (or whatever it was).

Then when I returned for my portion of offal – I literally had to reapply for its provision.
Then, after much argument, when I returned home with the object - it had apparently been thrown into the fryer in its plastic™ bag.

It appears that our new ‘resterauntuers’ were an uppity, meretricious, careless cooking mob of losers who obviously didn’t want our custom. (Okay, fuckem, ‘once burnt, twice shy’, we can immediately deal with that by sacking ‘em without asking for a refund).

That was the early days.
Since then it has become infinitely worse.


I don’t particularly give a fuck at a flying doughnut about what the neighbours are up to – unless they are directly messing about with our ‘quality of life’.

But when these sad sacks of shit try to poison us when we innocently walk in to their ‘new enterprise’ – not only poison us but charge more than twice the going rate for a fucking spring roll – then something has to go on notice.
Especially when you consider that a commercially packaged spring roll IS NOT contained in its little slip prior to cooking.

So to be handed a blackened cylindrical object smelling of burnt plastic would definitely have to be a feat beyond the scope of the average friendly corner hash-slinger.
In fact, the provision of such a disgusting item would definitely have to be a case of malice aforethought.

If you’d been living these past few years opposite this vomitorium pretending to be a fast food palace – then you’d have to be, not only amazed, but completely mindfucked, as to how these stinkers could ever possibly stay in business.

Like us, you’d be over the road from them wondering why it is that their manners match those of the craziest of the muja hadeen.--------------------------

I don’t believe it too much to ask as to where the hell this new proprietor, ‘G W’, came from.
The real question is why this prize psycho arsehole had to arrive across the road from us.

I’ve only lived here for sixty years and have never had to engage in fisticuffs with anyone except little timmy white whose parents took over that corner store from Jock about fifty years ago.

But even little timmie finally managed to control his anger in his adolescence –
Whereas this present arsehole, ‘G W’, screams death threats at us through our windows in the dead of night.

The same crock of shit raises his fists at me first thing in the morning – tells me that the polis wants him to smack me down.

Nice fellow that ‘G W’; prominent local businessman. A bloke you could trust.

As one of my lifelong friends said the other day when I finally conned him into listening to the recording of this cunt – “Jeesus, he needs some help now, right away!”

But ‘G’ can shout death threats through our windows then have the police pounding on our door next day.
I answered their pounding with the recording of ‘G’ in my hand, ready to replay, for their advice.

They flat refused to listen to it.

Since then it has been provided to the CMC, the office of newman, our fuhrer. And various other agencies allegedly poised waiting and supposedly ‘of jurisdiction’ in order to immediately pounce on perpetrators of chemically and alcohol fuelled violence.

In fact they have the recording in attachment to submissions lodged in writing to these agencies.

But guess what.
It appears that this ‘G W’ is exempt from the law.

This shiteheel and his companion, ‘H W’, have been operating a business or two over the road for years now.
Recently they’ve dealt with council with his missus acting as ‘principle’ –
(See P 188 of 245)
“Council has received a request from Helen Wittleton, the proprietor of a business known as the Fishin Chicken at 53 Walla Street, Bundaberg South. There are two other businesses in the complex, a Hairdresser (Snipitz) and a Massage Centre (Bundaberg Remedial Massage). The complex is situated in Walla Street immediately opposite Bundaberg South State School.” – continues in the public record.

So his missus does his dirty work for him– yet, he, himself is ‘invisible’ on the face of the public record.

So what IS this bastard?
Some defrocked cop – some arch crim on some witness protection programme – or just some piece of filth related to enough contacts in this corrupt state permitting him to behave like the arch-cunt he’s adequately demonstrated – that he is?

Anyway, the ‘G and H, W’ team turn up and take over a completely collapsed fast food dive then start to take over the neighbourhood.
They don’t do that by improving the air (oh goddamn it, the place stinks to high heaven).
They don’t do it by being good neighbours.
Instead, they do it by letting their closest neighbours know that they want them to move out – to encourage us to fuck off under a hail of threats.

When their neighbours refused to move – they bellowed actual death threats through their victim’s windows.

Oh fucking yawn, gav – get real! (Whoops, I slipped and mentioned the slimer’s name).

Then next day the local pigs arrived supporting his pitch (which made things Bizarro world – but serious).

According to gav’s mate, dempsey – only ‘bikies’ are supposed to behave this way in boganvillian society.

But stop there –
We’re talking about Bundaberg – ‘fun’daberg – the most boring yet corrupt town anywhere in Australia.

Could any of this mafia mis-behaviour have something to do with drug production?

PS – We have letters here from the CMC and the premier’s office about this smarmy cunt and the industrial scale meth production over the road.
We also have a threatening letter from the police farce.

The letter from the premier concludes with – “I can understand that this situation is making you, your wife and your son very anxious.
Similarly, if you have any concerns about you or your family’s safety then you should also report this to crimestoppers, or telephone 000 in case of emergency.”

BRILLIANT! – this, from the office of the present fuhrer – the sad-sack who now wants bikies locked up for allegedly similar behaviour as mentioned above.

I began to see the score some time ago. After all, Joh’s regime DID offer a few pointers.

It required the services of FitzGerald to topple Joh.

What form or style of exorcist has the strength to break this present regime?

Friday, January 3, 2014

26 JANUARY 1808 DITTO 1901

Key words/phrases –

The world of Australian politics has not changed since governor bligh was set-up by the rum corps – the first military coup and the establishment of the first corrupt military junta in our HA! ‘once proud land’.

The Australian broadcasting commission/corporation wasn’t around back on the 26 January 1808 – but if they were – I’m sure that those smarmy bastards employed by our propaganda ministry would find a way to pass off the coincidence of that date with our joke federation without the slightest grimace on their po-faces.

In fact I’m absolutely sure that the Gay Bee Cee wouldn’t have a problem reconciling the coincidence of date of our first coup with the date of federation – of Australia day.
I’m sure they wouldn’t because they are as useless a mob of arseholes as the oppressively cynical cunts who have been running the show here ever since 1788.

It completely beggars description.
I’m speechless as to how fucking cynical those masonic arseholes of the Melbourne club, those in ‘politics’ and of the (vomit) ‘legal profession’ must have been to shove that date up our noses expecting us to keep celebrating the day those poxed, corrupt, bastards of the rum corps turned against and destroyed what little there was of the flawed rule of martial law as was then being administered fairly well by Governor Bligh.


Now I DO understand.
Now I do understand why there is no justice anywhere in this dump – except for the corrupt spawn of the friggin tontine.
Does not this ‘coincidence’ drive the circumstance of our crapulous state well and truly into our vitals?

As for the gay bee cee?
Dear old auntie, abc?
The ‘propagandaministry’?

Well, there has been a few times I’ve wondered why they shit-can what I’d considered to be reasonable and reasoned comment from countless thousands of people who would have liked to have had their say.
Decent people who, according to the charter of the abc/gay bee cee, have every right to have their say

But now I know why they have no right to have their say – according to the gay bee cee.

And that is because their views, their comment (unknown to them) might be opposed somehow to the policy of that incestuous fucking rum corps tontine – with its spider’s web threaded throughout our society and a fair deal of it gumming up our ‘free national broadcaster’ the corrupt bloody abc.

I tell you Herbert – she’s gone to buggery, this dump – if it ever was intended to be started.

Have none of you ‘original people’ ever noticed this ‘interesting coincidence’ about the dates of federation and the first military coup?
And if not – why not?

But if you, original, aboriginal, dudes can’t work out how much I hate what these faceless arseholes are doing to us all –
And if we can’t get together, work together, and deport these cynical bastards doing this stuff –
Then there is no hope for any of us who have had the bad luck to have been born here under their foul regime.

Wednesday, January 1, 2014


Funnily enough – the seppos keep bleating about their ‘tea party’.

Looks like the majority of the citizenry in the usa haven’t been taught about the ‘Boston rebellion’, the ‘tea party’ – that vaunted demonstration leading to their secession from the British Union.

Seems like their big cover-up is about disguising the fact that their secession started out with a succession of plain old fashioned terrorist acts.
They certainly went ballistic when the southern states wanted quit of the north.

Similar lapses occur in the historical education of our brats here.

Or could it be that they ARE putting something in our water, or the weet bix?

Or have mind controlling, lizard, alien, zombies taken over our various governments?

No. I don’t think so.

Maybe we’ve been taken over by mind controlling, lizard, alien, JUGEARED, zombies?

Now, that DOES fit the big picture.

(At this stage I googled – “jug ears in politics” – knowing that our blessed fuhrer, ‘newman’, our arch-fuhrer, ‘abbortt’, and that potus, ‘terbaccy banana’ should feature large.

But guess what?
The censorship is well in place all over and under this planet.

Which does tend to explain and support my observation about our brats not being taught much history.

But why should I single out their ears for comment?

Easy peasy.
Most people with such jutting auditory appendages should be able to hear well.

But for some reason these ‘statesmen’ mentioned above – don’t – or pretend they can’t.

At this stage I inconclusively googled the matter. A shitload of obfuscation/contradiction about oversized human lugholes – but quite a lot about the superior capability of other animals with big lugs able to hear for miles – and at frequencies/modulations/amplitudes way beyond human capacity. There was a hint there somewhere that apparent humans with excessively big ears might well be atavistic hunter homonids, evolutionary/environmental/artificial mutations, or some sort of hybrid beings. Despite the amazing number of jug-eared politicians extant, they, somehow, seemed to avoid the discourse.)
So, what confronts us?

Firstly – history ignored.
They can’t or don’t read.
That seems to be an asset of the job; a pre-requisite for pre-selection as a candidate for public office.

So what follows after the raffle -
A mob of numerically ever increasing raffle winners who never listen to those they are constitutionally bound to represent.

A fair share of these arseholes equipped with ears large enough to stand beside a deep space radio telescope array and not look out of place.

Yet not one of these cunts pretend ever hear a thing when it comes down to their electorates bellowing into their flapping jugs from five feet away.

Those huge flapping ears are useless – cannot hear for the life of ‘emselves - nothing but a con.

But these wackos have their staff ask their poor bloody constituents to ‘put their grievances in writing’.

Then some of those ‘constituents’ do exactly that.

Ah - Catch 22. Remember, they can't read either.
That's what their corrupt, nasty little staffers are employed to do for 'em.
Yep. The staffers can read after a fashion but they pretend that they can't assimilate the information.

So if the 'constituents' are lucky – some months or years later ( usually, magically, just past the relevant statutes of limitations period) they finally get a reply.

That reply usually paraphrases politely – ‘go fuck yourself. You are, unfortunately, one nanosecond too late.’

They’ll go on to say something like – “but don’t take our word for that – get legal advice. They’ll screw you hollow too.”

Yet we are paying money every day in so many ingenious ways for these corrupt shiteheels, and their pals, and members of their incestuous extended families, to screw all us mere peasants – to screw us crosseyed.

As for mind controlling, lizard, alien, zombies?
Forget ‘em.

Those silly dills wouldn’t have a chance against our home brew, incestuous, brain dead, raffle winners and the corrupt cunts destructively flitting about in their offices.