Sunday, March 8, 2009

Janet Albrechtsen, the activist Governor General aka Quentin Bryce, Hubris, Scones, Bonnie Prince Charlie, Tampons and Smiling Monarchists

Dame Slap, aka Janet Albrechtsen, is in a tizz. We have an activist Governor-General, and what's worse, she's a woman.

What was the name of that nice Anglican bishop, that's it Hollingworth, during John Howard's reign. Splendid chappie, decent bloke, something of a Christian, resigned as I recall for some kind of sexual abuse case within the Diocese of Brisbane when he was the archbishop. Still never an activist chappie, just ate the scones and the lamingtons, and let John Howard take all the glory. Had the full confidence of John right up to the death. Shame he had to go.

Speaking of all the glory, what was the name of his successor? Can't remember, some military possum. Splendid chappie, decent bloke, never said boo to a goose, in fact I can't remember him doing much at all. Sat in his seat all day saying nothing, doing nothing. Some kind of professional seat warmer. I'm told his staff regularly checked to make sure he was still breathing. Wasn't John Howard the PM, GG and President all rolled into one? Had to do it. Help the other chappie out. Splendid chappie John. Never a hint of hubris.

Now dearie me this woman, what's her name, Quentin Bryce, funny name, Queenslander I believe - well that says a lot doesn't it - is off on a grand tour of Africa, doing the PM's bidding like some kind of political harlot. Slap her hard Dame Slap, slap her again. Since when did the G-G do the PM's bidding? Indeedy!!

What cheek, what presumption to want a place on the Security Council for Australia. After all, we all know the UN is the source of all those black helicopters, and even belonging to it is deeply suspicious - let alone lobby for it in some sluttish way on a grand tour of Africa (doesn't one know that the only tour one should do is of Europe?). 

I must say Janet's quite correct. It's about time we dropped out of that wretched institution and set up our own. If the world wants to join ours fine, and if not, well they can just bugger off.

Do you know this headline grabbing G-G even attended a conference in the Middle East instructing the world on climate change, then had the cheek to mouth what she'd learnt? She didn't seem to understand climate change was a myth promoted by the Labor Government, and she was just being a lick spittle lackey, like everyone else at the conference.

Next she sort of had an acid flash, and suddenly was instructing us on paid maternity leave, like she was still a sex discrimination commissioner (and why we need that sort of thing I'll never know, not if we all had balls like Janet). This is a shockingly political issue, and will require a major injection of taxpayer funds.

What ever's next with this brazen hussie, this politicized chook? After all:

If tea and scones and warming the nation's heart with photo ops and sweet words are not befitting of her intelligence, she should have never taken the gig.

Memo to Queen Elizabeth, all this promoting of England's businesses and culture, and touring the colonies to maintain the connection, and making political statements about global warming has got to stop. We are heartily, if respectfully, sick of it ma'am (funny, is the Queen a woman? Surely not.)

I'm reminded ma'am of your annual Commonwealth day message in 2008 when you babbled on about pollution falling unequally, and the way we should all do our duty by the Nile, and so forth and so on in your funny quavering voice. Clearly your activist ways have influenced colonial G-Gs and now we have this upstart woman in the colonies making Dame Slap get very upset.

In fact I'm thinking dear Queen the way you carry on interminably about all sorts of social justice issues, you're becoming a walking, talking, smiling advertisement for the "Yes" case for whether Australia should become a republic.

Oh sorry, sorry, Dame Slap I got that wrong. That devilish whirling dervish of a Quentin Bryce is clearly an astounding, astonishing example of why Australia should never become a republic. We're so looking forward to being ruled by that wonderful Prince Charlie, so that we too can all become tampons, and then we have that wonderful Prince Harry coming along nicely. The girls so love him, such a spunk. Didn't he look so dashing in that WW II German desert uniform, complete with swastika armband, ciggie and drink.

Compared to that sort of class, I'm afraid Ms Bryce that you are nothing but a ponce and a charlatan and a poseur. 

Don't you realize you were never elected? Not like the Queen and Prince Philip. Why they were elected monarchs and rulers over the Anglican church and Australia time and time again. (Never mind when, just take my word for it. Stupid interjector).

And all that junketing dearie. Cut it out. You've been everywhere, but you're not supposed to be in a Lucky Starr song. Maybe you're meant to be in the Gunnedah country women's association club having a nice cheese and cucumber sandwich. Or a scone. Or a lamington. Definitely a cup of tea. But only once a year, and done so quietly no one except the old ducks notice. Like that major chappie. Silent as the Phantom. Drank milk too. What was that possum's name??!!

And look what you've made Dame Slap say as her parting words:

If a G-G without a popular mandate starts exhibiting the hubris of Janet Albrechtsen - already evident from Bryce's forays into politics - imagine what we can expect from a G-G who gets there by popular vote. Monarchists will be smiling.

Sorry, sorry, that mention of the hubris of Janet Albrechtsen is an editorial error, but unfortunately production difficulties have prevented us from removing it. 

Suffice to say, Janet never exhibits hubris or malice, nor does she ever like to rage at women that they should KNOW THEIR PLACE.

We are all tremendously excited about bonnie Prince Charlie coming to power, and perhaps dispensing tampons to his loyal subjects across the land at the time of his accession. Now there's a classy act, no wonder all the monarchists are smiling.

Now Ms Bryce - none of that formal name calling stuff on this site - here are the lyrics for your song, learn them well:

Well I was humpin' my bluey on the dusty Dunrossil road,
When along came a semi with a high and canvas-covered load,
(Spoken) "If you're goin' to Yarralumla, mate, um, with me you can ride"
So I climbed into the cabin and I settled down inside.
He asked me if I'd seen a road with so much dust and sand, I said.
Listen mate, I haven't travelled any road in this here land.
And I haven't travelled anywhere else either.
Got a cup o' tea and a scone?

I know, I know, it's a heckuva lot shorter. Doesn't even mention one dinkum Aussie town. But you see we don't like activist, traveling G-G's in this country. Especially women. Women should KNOW THEIR PLACE. 

We like 'em nice and quiet and decorative, like a nice soft cushion on the sofa, all brightly colored and with pretty little flowers. Meaning no disrespect, but seeing as how you're a woman, and might be afraid to ask, we particularly don't like uppity women who upset Dame Slap, who has the right to speak out on anything and everything in hysterical tones by permission of the Queen. 

That's right, Dame Slap has received a Royal Warrant of Appointment to be a raving ratbag and columnist for The Australian. Now do you understand how presumptuous you're being, how outclassed you are, you bumpkin, acting as some kind of handbag for Kevin Rudd, and thinking you have a mind of your own and are somehow entitled to speak it. Women should KNOW THEIR PLACE.

Now there's an upside - remember how at the end the truckie drops Lucky off and says it seems like he's been to every place except one, and Lucky won't need any help to get there? We think the truckie might have been talking about hell. So you be extra nice, stop traveling and you won't have any worries. At the end of your term, if you play your cards right, you won't have been to a single place, and therefore will have a decent chance of avoiding hell. 

Dame Slap has promised ever so nicely that if you shut up, say nothing, and act like a very gracious door mat, she'll help out. Promise. She has a special relationship with Satan. Consider it a done deal. But remember, avoid any deal breakers: women should KNOW THEIR PLACE!

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