What name the Royal Baby??

Queensland, the empty epicentre of everything.

After the splendour of the Commonwealth Games people the world over have been at a loss to describe the sense of emptiness they feel. The emptiness of knowledge. Knowing that the greatest, fastest, most excellent members of the Greatest Empire the might never had known may win in fields as diverse as Kick-boxing, Bowls and Emptiness. Queensland, the empty capital of the world is soul searching.

From Cooktown to Cowamerup. From the Darling Downs to Devonport, lands cleared of native people and animals lie waiting for the next best thing. They’re pregnant with the weight of anticipation. When the word ‘Emptiness” is never Empty enough. From Armadale the word is “Barnaby”. He rises. To say the Banks Royal Commission is not so bad after all. And to demonstrate balance, Malcom tours Europe to denounce the evils of populism.

” Our greatest, (undoubtedly) Prime Minister EVER”! (K.Rudd)

Deep thought is being sought. And in this crucial era of global catastrophe and cataclysmic enrvironmental change we have no time for pleasantries. Pleasant then, that in spite of all the work being undertaken by the Chinese government to gift micronesian nations with World’s Best Practice conference centres, intergalactic teleports, and Super Broadband Highways as Kevin (soon to be proclaimed, “The magnificent”) Rudd did, that we have something of importance happening in our midst.

Another Royal baby.

Arthur? Albert? Charles? Fred? have been postulated, and the Murdoch press is abuzz with journalistic frenzy.

WE are in a similar frenetic whirl of wonderment. The Barrier Reef may be dead, but there’s new life in Windsor. Morality in Australia as evidenced by the Banks Royal Commission may be stone cold, and there is no hope for democracy. Join a coroporate. ASIC wont go near you, or just go “Team China”.

All is not lost. From the empire of old, something to celebrate.

The Duchess of Cambridge and Prince William are having another crack at it. A new baby. And though Hawking hypothesised the meaning of life the universe and everything, we all know we’re more interested in the naming of the royal kiddy. We think that William and Kate will go old school. And grace the kiddy with a sense of Britain’s illustrious past. The pundits point to the Victorian and Edwardian era. When people knew their place. But we at pcbycp say that aint far enough.

CNUT ” I told you not to Leave the tap running”.

We like the sound of CNUT. It’s an anagram that rolls off the top of the tougue. Then, Aelswyth aint bad. And there’s nothing wrong with a dash of the old Harold, for an arrow in the eye of posterity.

We’ve set up a dart board, and dispensed with all the names most favoured by respectable people who like to send their kiddies to proper schools and leave you the reader to ponder our favoured royal names. And whilst you ponder, feel reassured that with another royal, stability reigns over this febrile planet. And that’s reassuring indeed..


Aurelieus Conanus?

Gurguit Babtruc? (not sure if that’s his first or second name)




Or something that’s both contemporary and epithetic of where we’re at in the 21st century, something that illuminates the empire of old and proclaims a clear message.

Anyone for Grenfell??




Of Sacrifice and Memory.

One in eight birds are destined to be extinct did you know.

The Great Barrier Reef is cactus. We should grow them (cactus) there.

Koala’s threatened with habitat loss.

Kevin Rudd lashes out at Naysayers in second volume of Memoirs, (possibly the most significant second volume of memoir EVER).

Peter Dutton asks to be acting PM for EVER!

This is the noble sactifice a civilised society makes to be CIVILISED!

Kelly O’Dwyer, will see the bankers are punished by being told so. The bankers are trembling.

There’s penetrating findings on the Banking Royal Commission. And we’ve got to say that not since “the terror” have we seen such a grim procession of shabby, implausible, hapless figures in public life. Good thing they’re bankers. In the olden days we’d have em pilloried. But nowadays we just sigh a collective ‘tut tut tut’, to their myriad misdemeanours and hope the whole thing will go away. Seems ASIC, (the amusingly named corporate regulator) was busy doing nothing. At the end of it all we hope that someone quite junior in the banking industry will be PUNISHED!. Just in time for the next election.

Bit like scandals all over really. It’s o.k to do it. You can get a HUGE bonus. But the thing is not to be caught.

This is what a proper apology looks like.

If you get caught it’s game over. It’s the end of the road. It’s the high-water mark. Just as Rupert and James found out. You’ll be landed in purgatory for at least a week. And asked with all probablilty of established fact to APOLOGISE! And made to look pretty SAD. And the admission of GUILT may HAUNT you. And after that, the news cycle will get back onto tracking down the dysfunctonal on the edge of suburbia and worrying about the imposition of Sharia Law in kindergartens.

WE, in the intersts of fairness tried Sharia law the other day at the pcbycp offices.

It al began with a prayer meeting we held right on 11.00 am. We’re not sure if prayers for muslims start at 11.00 am, but we felt that Anzac day and the eternal memory of those who fell to maintain freedoms the world over would appreciate that the eleventh of the eleventh is significant. We should accord them eternal respect. Just as we were about to pause in prayer, Mrs Coldtart came in with the Lamingtons. And one amongst us, couldn’t help (his, her, transgender, it makes no difference to us), grabbing the treats on the tray, so to speak. And in an instant we had a breach of the sacred trust ordained to us by the Great God-head “Anzackery”.

Realising, the appostacy, the lack of respect, the wanton sacriligeous act, we had no recourse, but to punish the offender and Mrs Coldtart. This we did, by restricting their access to the coffee machine and tea making facilities for an entire week.

After that week, with due contrition, they have resigned. And thus we have kept our tradition of noble sacrifice pure.

Tomorrow we prepare for our march. A solemn march down Lygon street, with the order of the Pink Lamington at our masthead. To keep this country pure, and make an example that those who act as deputy God-head, (the bankers), may solemly follow.

Lest we forget.

Poetry Sunday 22 April 2018

In deference to Anzac Day (next Wednesday) we make some offerings.

Firstly a song from Leonard Cohen – There’s a Crack in Everything

The birds they sang
At the break of day
Start again
I heard them say
Don’t dwell on what
Has passed away
Or what is yet to be
Yeah the wars they will
Be fought again
The holy dove
She will be caught again
Bought and sold
And bought again
The dove is never free
Ring the bells (ring the bells) that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything (there is a crack in everything)
That’s how the light gets in
We asked for signs
The signs were sent
The birth betrayed
The marriage spent
Yeah the widowhood
Of every government
Signs for all to see
I can’t run no more
With that lawless crowd
While the killers in high places
Say their prayers out loud
But they’ve summoned, they’ve summoned up
A thundercloud
And they’re going to hear from me
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything (there is a crack in everything)
That’s how the light gets in
You can add up the parts
You won’t have the sum
You can strike up the march
There is no drum
Every heart, every heart to love will come
But like a refugee
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything (there is a crack in everything)
That’s how the light gets in
Ring the bells that still can ring (ring the bells that still can ring)
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything (there is a crack in everything)
That’s how the light gets in
That’s how the light gets in
That’s how the light gets in
“I would like to end on a positive note” said Tom Lehrer – perhaps he did.

MDFF 21 April 2018

Fake News

Hallo vrienden,

My mother was heavily pregnant with me when the RAF bombed the Haarlem suburb in which she lived. That was exactly 75 years ago, on the 16th April 1943.

A friend of my mother’s, Margot Gimpel, was amongst the 85 civilians who lost their lives. No smart bombs, nor GPS back then. Not a single bomb fell on the intended target.

From my dad’s anecdotes (translated from Dutch):

“At great risk, we had a radio mounted under the table. We listened to the Dutch broadcasts of Radio Orange out of London. We were told that the railway works in Haarlem had been totally destroyed…”

Never again was my dad to believe everything he heard on the news or read in the papers.

PHOTO- Destruction in the Teding van Berkhout Street (the street I was born in and where we lived)- The lads in black shorts, helping in the clean-up, are members of the Dutch equivalent of the Hitler Youth, and the photo was used for propaganda purposes.

Dad ‘infected’ all of us with such skepticism. Almost none in our immediate family ever thought that there were weapons of mass destruction in Iraq (How do you move and hide a tunnel?).

Lies and propaganda have been with us for a long long time. These days it is called fake news.

Just a few examples:

The expulsion of Jews from England after the populace was made to believe that child sacrifice was an integral part of Judaism.

The annexation of Czechoslovakia, justified by the alleged mistreatment of the Sudeten Germans.

The bombing of North Vietnam as reprisals for the fictitious Gulf of Tonkin incident.

And who can forget Colin Powell showing those children’s drawings of chemical weapon factories on the back of trucks to a credulous audience at the UN?

Closer to home, John Howard’s re-election on the basis of the throwing of non-existent children overboard.

So what are we to make of the recent chemical weapons attack in Syria?

It is now over a decade ago that in a failed re-election attempt the Northern Territory Emergency Response- The Intervention- was launched. We were told that the sexual abuse of children was an integral part of Remote Aboriginal society. Millions of dollars were spent on trying to prove the existence of alleged paedophile rings, with as much success as locating the Weapons of Mass Destruction in Iraq.

So when will humanity begin to discern the nakedness of its emperors? When will we ever learn?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1y2SIIeqy34 Pete Seeger, Where have all the flowers gone?

The spin-doctors have succeeded beyond their wildest wet dreams in inducing Global Amnesia.

Hardly a soul (except for those of us on the front line) knows what the Intervention is, yet the disempowering, assimilationist legislation remains in place doing its dirty deeds.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rYeMhiWWP8s AC/DC Dirty deeds done dirt cheap…

Tot siens,


Commonwealth Games Closing Ceremony Tragedy

WOW!! More meaningful, more symbolic, than EVER!

Dear reader, it is well known that this blog eschews the culture of complaint. People understand that from this site, only, measured, dispassionate and balanced views are expressed, Views which truly express the views of right-thinking people world-wide. With this perspective in light, it is bitterly dissapointing to have to comment upon the Commonwealth Games Closing ceremony.

And we should take this opportunity to say how impressed we were with the entire Commonwealth Games. And we would like to thank the organisers in acknowledging that Queensland is the perfect venue for such an event. And the Gold Coast, the spiritual heartland of the singular value Australians stand for UNITED. And that is, (without acknoweldgment of the first Australian’s who never understood it) the value of REAL ESTATE.

Our Deputy head of state tells us what we want to hear.

Not only was the Commonwealth Games closing ceremony a lost opportunity to celebrate Australia’s stunning victories over lesser sporting nations, in fields as diverse, as hopskotch, table tennis, ju-jitsu, synchromised swimming, goat-staring and witch burning. But it was an opportunity for less fortunate nations, (those not gifted with an impeccable sporting pedigree as the world’s “Greatest Sporting Nation” EVER) to join with us in universal celebration of mateship and inclusiveness. To demonstrate once and all that what’s left of the greatest empire the world has ever known, which bought righteousness, bigotry and subjugation to people of colour the world over still exists in the spirit of “Commonwealth”. And we, annointed subjects of the greatest, most enduring, compassionate and fair-minded ruling family EVER, the Windsors, (formerly the Saxe-Coburg Gotha’s) could demonstrate our modest superiority in everything to do with sport and respect for human dignity. Though we did leave that Scots marathon runner lying in the road for an awful long time and our ahletes, wouldn’t stoop to pick him up as Ron Clarke did. Because we have to, (as our cricket team demonstrates so capably) WIN at all costs. That’s the message we like to give to the rest of the world.

Leave em for Dead and WIN WIN WIN GOLD for Australia!!!

So it is with bitter disapointment we couldnt see the footage of our athletes walking victorious into the arena led by the inspirational para-sports veteran Kurt Fearnley carrying the Australian flag.

We were robbed.

Though the spectators found the closing ceremony more banal, yawn provoking and kitsch-enabling than the opening ceremony, we wanted to see it all. We just wanted this chance to revel in the symbolism of it all. As Australians, and (more importantly) as Queenslanders.

Still, there is a chance to redeem ourselves. Come Anzac Day every aussie will march. To signify our unquestionable unity.

For ancient wars we celebrate Aussie mateship. For wars yet to come we celebrate aussie mateship, and for the paltry 500 million to make our war memorial bigger than any other war memorial in the world to prove beyond all resonable doubt that we’ll be at the forefront.

2022 Comonwealth Games will be held in the N.T. Australia leading the world in indigenous incarceration. An un- official games event since 1788.

As a mighty sporting nation.



1:57 / 4:01



MDFF 14 April 2018

Nonsense April 2018

Ntambama enhle abangane bami,

Roald Dahl wrote the screenplay for the 1971 film  “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory”

In it, Roald used an old saying to great effect in a scene where each egg was analysed by an “eggdicator” to determine whether it was a good egg or a bad egg:

“A little nonsense, now and then,
Is relished by the wisest men!”

Phil who worked as a clerk for DAA (Department of Aboriginal Affairs) at Yuendumu, was a prolific writer of Letters to the Editor in the Centralian Advocate. Long after he left Yuendumu we would look forward to and relish his letters. He wasn’t the type, but each letter would have us pondering what it was that Phil had smoked or ingested.

His letters were lovely bits of prose which made no sense whatsoever. Nonsense classics.

A former Centralian Advocate sub-editor came to work as a printer for the BRDU (Bilingual Resources Development Unit) at Yuendumu School.

The printer revealed that Phil’s letters were very lengthy but he’d edit them down to fit whatever spare space had to be filled on the Letters to the Editor page. No wonder they made no sense, I said. Oh no! He told me, the whole letter made no sense and which morsel he used made no difference.

We all missed Phil’s contributions after he exited the Land of the Living.

I’m happy to report, that whilst Phil’s style was unique, his spirit lives on.

This recently landed on my virtual desk:

Have your say – Aboriginal Contracting Framework

Lovely picture of a happy native wearing a hi vis vest and pushing a wheel-barrow. What is in the barrow? Might it be BS? (Ed.Note)

Territorians have an opportunity to put forward their thoughts and ideas on the development of a new Aboriginal Contracting Framework for government procurement and grants.

The new framework will be developed through an extensive stakeholder engagement process. Although the new framework will have a wide reach, for infrastructure works, it will replace the Indigenous Employment Provisional Sum policy which ceased in August 2017.

Targeted stakeholders sessions with government, industry, business, Aboriginal stakeholders and non-government organisations will begin next month to identify and consider different ideas for the Aboriginal Contracting Framework…… and on it goes.

I have nothing to add, suffice it to say, that I consider that my complete oblivion when it comes to the existence of the now ceased Indigenous Employment Provisional Sum policy to have resulted in a missed opportunity of gargantuan dimension.

Then there was the Jabberwocky:

‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”  … and on it goes.

And then there was a Whiter Shade of Pale:

We skipped the light fandango
Turned cartwheels ‘cross the floor
I was feeling kinda seasick
But the crowd called out for more
The room was humming harder
As the ceiling flew away
When we called out for another drink
The waiter brought a tray
…and on it goes.

Well may we ponder what Lewis Carroll and Procol Harum smoked or ingested before creating their little nonsense for us to relish.

We might ask the same about the public servant who wrote the “Have your say” piece.

And now for contrast a lovely piece of music for you to relish, even if it makes perfect sense…

mlanjeni Mafikizolo (Meet Me At the River)


kuze kube yisikhathi esilandelayo

He said, she said, Rupert said.

Rupert and James, ” very sorry”, they were found out.

Geoffrey Rush doesn’t eat. He’s in lockdown in his house. His confidence and reputation shot. In the courts the Sunday Telegraph and Rupert’s flunkies fight it out with the STC, ( Sydney Theatre Company) to name the person who leaked.

This is trial by media, and Rupert must be very happy indeed.

We remember the News of the World Scandal. Private telephone conversations hacked, people left to hang in the gallows of public opinion after their private lives were trawled. In the end we had the edifying spectacle of Rupert and James confronting the parliament to say they were very sorry, the culture would change. And it didn’t.

Geoffrey may have touched someone innaproriately under a directors prompting. Was he a Weinstein serial type? We doubt it. Was he a Cosby and Rolfian, (Harris) serial offender? Most assuredly not. And what constitutes the inappropriate? Buggered if we know. You’ll have to ask Mr G from Summer Heights High. All we know is that two careers, the accuser and the accused are down the toilet.

In the end a good actor, some say a very good actor has had his career shot, and the hunt for sex offenders goes off track.

Indeed it was unwise for some well meaning tool to blab to the Telegraph. Someone, in the theatre industry may have forewarned them that Murdoch doesn’t have any one’s health in mind when his flunkies make enquiries. It’s only scandal he’s after. And it keeps the foremost principle of Murdoch’s Empire, (to impoverish the masses with salacious gossip, inuendo and degrading simplification) to keep going. And the cash registers pinging.

Mr G, advice on “appropriate” and “innapriopriate” touching.

The tabloids survive because they trawl the lowest common denominator of the human condition. They do this because the public seemingly have a thirst for the lowest common denominator. And the public, since they removed public hanging, like a metaphorical one.

In America, a shooting can be recorded on anyone’s I phone in graphic detail The blood, the sight of corpses, are daily fare, and no one bats and eyelid. But when an alleged victim of serial fiddler Bill Cosby protests by flashing her naked breasts, the editing departments are working full tilt, to ensure that no one is shocked by the sight of bare breast. We still reward violence as healthy prime-time entertainment, and yet stoop and genuflect to some ancient biblical hang-up up about sexuality by digitally removing a woman’s sexuality as “offensive”.

Mandatory Credit: Photo by Corey

We are in strange times. Serge Gainsbourg would be non plussed, and Arthur Miller re- writing the Crucible in a more contemporary vein, because both the victims and the perpetrators are devalued as human beings and sent to purgatory for having any sexuality at all. This is Rush’s crime, to be a bloody good actor, and die on the pillory of this purient and all pervasive fear of sexuality. Whether he touched, fiddled or groped is irrelevant. He was alleged to have (under direction)  an alleged moment, and his life is irreperably changed. And Rupert is richer by half. And we the public impoverished.

And Guilty?

We only have ourselves to blame.

Not all that glitters is on the Gold Coast

Stunning news from up north on just how successful the Australian Commonwealth games team are in all their events.

Did you know that yesterday the Opals beat Mozambique by four hundred goals in the mixed synchronised swimming event. The Matilda’s beat Kenya three thousand goals to nil in the integrated limbless ice hockey. From the track we’ve heard that Shane Dwayne O Grady came first in the hop step and jump, discus and back-somersault relay race.

Australia leads the world in sports not neccescarily related to ball tampering.

More stunningly alienating than Melbourne’s Docklands, Another GOLD moment for the Gold Coast.

The gold just keeps flowing for Australia. Proof that we are numero uno over all those parts of the old empire that just weren’t civilised or whitey enough. On hand to congratulate the athletes the future King of Australia Prince Charles the Third acknowledged the stellar perfomances from the Australian team: ‘Not since mummy and I wrote those naughty words to that lickpsittle of a toady John Kerr have we laughed so much. On the track, in the field and in every sphere of non-thinking human endeavour you Awstwalians prove your mettle’.

Our future King, Charles the 3rd suggests an improper use of games souvenir to Camilla, the Duchess of Tawdry. (we are not amused)

Tomorrow Australia kicks off against the Isle of Man in the haggis eating competition, and after the finals it’ll be a showdown between our own contender, Geroge (Georgie_boy) Christensen and the kaber tossing scotsman, Eric Mcpewkes.

However, there is a dark cloud. Anecdotal evidence suggests that the games are just not relevant anymore. They don’t attract the national intrerest and in other countries not blessed by the roseate pink of empire they don’t even know what a “Commonwealth” is. And some haven’t yet heard of Queensland. And that’s reflected in the medal tally.

On literacy, Australia came thirteenth behind, Mauritius the Seycheles and those bits of the ol Belgian Congo that were no coloured pink in the old school atlas. And for creativity, the only field Australia managed to make a nudge against other contenders, South Africa, Malawi and The Scilly Isles, was in creative accouting and real estate. “Perhaps that’s why the people are not coming’, sighed a disillusioned Peter Beattie. ‘We thought that after the opening ceremony every roadway in Australia would be packed. Instead they tell me the Gold Coast is a ghost town. How could people not be interested in what’s on offer”?

Arguably, Australia’s most “hollowed out’ urban environment. Another Gold moment.

‘But there’s hope’, says Beattie.

‘We’re lobbying for special categories in the next Commonwealth games. And I think this will give Australia a chance to demonstrate to the world it’s credentials. Land clearing, Barrier Reef despoilation, Indigenous incarceration, Species Extinction, Bigotry and Smugness will all be competitive sports. And our latest, “Coal futures”. We wanna make sure that Coal is an inseperable part of Australia’s sporting mix, and after the cricketing debacle we’re happy to say that weet Bix have jumped on board. What better endorsement could one hope for.

So though the streets may be empty, in a special Queenslander kinda way, we know the reason for the drop in crowds. It’s the southern states. They envy our coal coloured view of the world.

And that’s why we strive harder to go it alone.

Cos we can’.

Progressive thinking from the Monash Forum.

The following is an edited text of a recent article that appeared in the Guardian. In the interests of transparency we believe it only fair to acknowledge our craft in plagiarism.

Dear Malcolm; ” with friends like these”…

The luminary from the near north Craig Kelly (Member for Hughes) hopes  that with the Monash Forum, we the taxpayers do what private enterprise wont touch. And that is… to ensure that the government pays for new coal-fired powerstations.

Craig and his mates are aginst the “demonisation” of coal, and hoped that the threat of a united coal-ish backbench would destabilise the the Turnbull government’s National Energy Guarantee, and in doing so ensure another tilt for Tony “Peabody is my best friend” Abbott. A win win for strong government and progressive policy. Tony Abbott, Eric Abetz, Kevin ­Andrews, George Christiansen and just for fun, Barnaby Joyce united in COAL.

George Christensen has reportedly written to fellow Nationals MPs inviting them to join the group “encouraging the government in the promotion of and ­facilitation of and/or construction of coal-fired power stations”.

John Monash, accepts first ride on Gravy Train.

The group is named after the First World War general John Monash, owing to his role in opening up Victoria’s ­Latrobe Valley for coal production. And for assisting to aid the British in ensuring more Australians per capita than just about anywhere else were slaughtered during the First World War, to achieve NOTHING. And because he’s an ANZAC (whose name shall live in sanctity and eternal light) the forum is beyond reproach. To question thus, Is “Un- Australian”.

Batting for The RIGHT to be wrong. (George Christiansen was asked to be included but declined as there was not enough space to put him in).

“It’s not like it’s a secret society,” Kelly said, “One of the aims of the group is to emphasise the importance of coal-fired generation. In KILLING the planet!!
“Coal is demonised by a large section of the community – that demonisation is incorrect, because coal is absolutely vital to the national economy both for export and the generation of cheap, reliable electricity.” And besides setting up a coal fired power station (as against renewables and what Jay Weatherel did in S.A) is prohibitively expensive. And what better way to do it, follow the lead of Exxon, Transurban, Google, Amazon, and all the others and PAY no TAX. Get the taxpayer to pay the rent, the rent that we seek for promoting hideously expensive, outmoded, grotesquely innefficient industries, and reward us for KILLING THE PLANET.

And as the majority of us are Queenslanders we deserve recognition, particularly with the Commonwealth Games on, in being the absolute world leaders in de-forestation and KILLING the PLANET.

We’ve killed off the greatest living organism ever, and we’re working tirelessly to ensure that all habitat that supports really fucking intersting stuff is completely destroyed. And you know why we do it? Cos we’re good ol conservative God-fearing folk who stand for development and environmental despoilaton. AT ALL COSTS. And we like to defy economic and Environmental Logic because WE CAN!

Kelly said if AGL’s Liddell power station were closed, the “optimum outcome for the grid” would be to construct a new coal-fired power station. And reverse govenrment policy of propping up inneficient industries by making the taxpayer PAY.

Glorious Anzacs led heroically by Sir John Monash demonstrate new strip mining techniques in Flanders 1916. Another instance of Australia pushing innovation and technology.

“Private-sector investment in coal might not be forthcoming due to possible technological change and changes to climate policy by a future government so “the government may need to step in and assist the build” of a new power station”. Derrr, (ed.)

And power companies who pay no tax to completely screw the consumer and ensure like Joe Hockey did, that manufacturing is gone FOREVER. And for daring to be clever.

The deputy Nationals leader, Bridget McKenzie, told Radio National on Tuesday coal “needs to be an ongoing part of the energy mix” COS IT KILLS THE PLANET.
“I don’t want to be ideological about how we get affordable, reliable power,” she said.
But coal is the only way to ensure the planet is KILLED QUICKLY.

On Preganacy, punctuation, punishment, puritanism … and Latin grammar

From North America,  hot on the tail of those who march (unarmed) in the US, to protest (as is their right), for those to be armed and (as is their right) carry an arsenal of weapons to keep themselves and other law abiding citizens “ Safe”.

First from our agent provocatrix in the U.S, Cecil Poole, this observation:

‘Placard from gun control march, Raleigh NC. The plural of Uterus is surely uteri. Education is not what it used to be. Sad”;.

Then quicker than you can say “March of little feet” this sanguine observation from our bard from the near north Ira Maine:

“Pull yourself together, for Gawd’s sake!

Surely the placarded lady used the word as she did in order to stir
an echo of the tediously ubiquitous shop name: ‘Boring ‘r’ Us’.

‘Uterus’ sounds awfully like ‘Youth ‘r’ Us’  to me. I hardly think
this double entendre was accidental given the subtlety of her overall
message. It is singularly apposite and is unlikely to have occurred by

The  saddest part to me is that most of the Trumped up jackass class
simply will not understand her message. They would find ‘uteri’
utterly incomprehensible.

In barricaded expectation of an avalanche of hooted derision in
response, I take my gentle leave…

My compliments to the splendid Andrea*,

Ira Maine,
Lord of the IGA  Aisles and a Martyr to Ungovernable Wind’.

Sir Atney as a student, when he studied Latin and Grammer and punchtuation.

And then, the final word from our sage of the Sydney-Ciders Sir Atney of Emo:

“Of course, the rot started when the Classics disappeared from the school syllabus, displaced by Inter-Gender Studies, Creative Carpet Laying, The Use of Deconstruction in the Critical Analysis of Japanese Manga Comics, etc.

Thus not one in hundreds would have spotted the errors abounding in Brian’s graffito in Monty Python’s ”Life of Brian” – “Romanes eunt comus”.

As present company, latinists all, would well know, the message should be “Romani ite domum” (Romans go home). Amongst other corrections, the verb now takes the third-person imperative form.

O tempora, O mores!


Sir Atney Emo”

And then from the Tolmordian Transigent,

‘Moses, when he finally got all of his followers together and began to
shepherd them out of the city, he found his way utterly blocked by
heaps of uncollected garbage.
‘What about our long sojourn in the wilderness?’ he cried as he
surveyed the piled up and stinking mess.’This will very probably
bugger up  our entire Biblical itinerary!’

Out of nowhere, as if ’twere a miracle, there appeared the twelve
apostates, with shovels.

In a trice the way was made clear, the Garbo’s strike obviously over.

“Can we go now?’ muttered Moses through gritted teeth, himself and his
followers almost overcome by the stench of the freshly disturbed and
rotting mess.
‘No worries!’ chuckled the head sanitation man, indicating the gap in
the garbage,  “Ite, cibum est super.’

This is what “Latin Grammar” looks like. Surprising more people aint got a handle on it.

This command was remembered and subsequently incorporated, with minor
alterations, into the Latin Mass.

Roughly translated it means: ‘Go, the mess is over.’


Hmmm…. In uteri I go! (popular Deniliquin vernacular)

And who is, “the splendid Andrea’? Stay tuned for tomorrows thrilling instalment, i  which we put the quid into “Quid Pro Quo”…