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Feb 5, 2013

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36 thoughts on “Who is the winner of our disco tent?

  1. Mr Dog! Today’s offering should’ve come with a Severe Mirth Warning, it may take several hours to compose myself.

    As usual, Jasper delivers the perceptive stinger ie: ‘nobody believes Newspoll.’

  2. Conscience is but a word that cowards use,
    Devis’d at first to keep the strong in awe:
    Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our law.
    March on, join bravely, let us to’t pell-mell;
    If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell !

  3. I do love a good resurrection story, forsooth. And lo! It is here! And it was good. Very good, dog#1.
    Verily I say unto Jasper, “do what you must to rid us from this pestilence. Else will no-one rid us of this meddlesome priest?”
    Balloon-assisted or not, do it, spectre-cat.

    ps all Python and Blackadder and similar lovers should visit the Rick III story on smh.com.au, where the comments are as good as the story

  4. Hail Firtst Dog
    Who is constant as the Northern Star,
    Of whose true fixed and resting quality
    There is no fellow in the firmament.

    A bit of Julia Caesar, what!

  5. Don’t archaeologists look smart in their open-neck khakis? I’d quite like to be one.

    Good one Mr Dong. We may see Mad King Kevin regularly relaunched by the opposition and the press pack until finally relieved by the humanity of a Hindenburg-type event.

  6. EMC: One of Melbourne’s least savory shock jocks, someone or other Mitchell, has been intoning that the election will happen much sooner than 14 Sept, and that KRudd will be leading the Party.

    With the blinkered right-wing, at any price, MSM carrying on like this, what hope does Julia have?

  7. Fair suk of the source bubble Firsty.
    If Tone is the best thing going for labour, then the star reporter for the australiar & his cat will be hoping that they find the secret seven quickly, lest he be considered “disloyal”.

  8. And from “Julia Seizer” :-
    “Who is it in the press that calls on me?
    I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music,
    Cry ‘Seizer!’ Speak; Seizer is turn’d to hear.”

    Soothsayer : “Beware the idles at march.”

  9. For every false drop in her bawdy veins
    A Grecian’s life hath sunk; for every scruple
    Of her contaminated carrion weight
    A Troyan hath been slain. Since she could speak,
    She hath not given so many good words breath
    As for her Greeks and Troyans suff’red death.

  10. Enter JASPER’S GHOST and KEVIN

    Where wilt thou lead me? speak; I’ll go no further.

    Mark me.
    I will.

    My hour is almost come,
    When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames
    Must render up myself.
    Alas, poor ghost!

    Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing
    To what I shall unfold.

    Speak; I am bound to hear.

    So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear.


    I am thy Jasper’s spirit,
    Doom’d for a certain term to walk the night,
    And for the day confined to fast in fires,
    Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature
    Are burnt and purged away. But that I am forbid
    To tell the secrets of my prison-house,
    I could a tale unfold whose lightest word
    Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,
    Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres,
    Thy knotted and combined locks to part
    And each particular hair to stand on end,
    Like quills upon the fretful echidna:
    But this eternal blazon must not be
    To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O, list!
    If thou didst ever thy dear cat love–

  11. With apologies to Will Shakespeare….

    This earth of miners, this squatters’ seat, land girt by sea.

    This was an Eden/hell*, perhaps paradise,

    This fortress rent asunder by Fortescue and BHP.

    This unhappy breed of voters, this confused land,

    This endless mine set in the once blue sea,

    Against the envy of an ignorant world,

    This cursed plot, this earth, this non-realm, this land of Oz.

    *Strike out whichever word of relevance.

  12. “Henry VII’s paternal grandfather, Owen Tudor, and Catharine of Valois, the widow of Henry V, fell in love and had three sons (Edmund, Jasper, and Owen); but the parents may never have married. This ambiguity invited the stigma of bastardy. Because the boys were the children of a former queen of England, those guarding the rights of the minor Henry VI such as Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester regarded the children as a threat and so branded them illegitimate. Still, King Henry VI countenanced Owen Tudor’s sons, making them royal half-brothers. Edmund Tudor–Henry VII’s father–in 1453 at age twenty-three became the Earl of Richmond. Concerning this recognition, Eric Simons speculates, “whether [King Henry VI] and his Council were now convinced that [the young men’s] parents had been truly married at their birth, or whether they considered it politically advisable to remove the stigma of bastardy from the royal half-brothers, cannot be said” (6). In 1459-60, an act of Parliament affirmed the legitimacy of Edmund, Jasper, and Owen Tudor, chiefly because of their father’s Lancastrian services during the Wars of the Roses (Simons 5-6). Nevertheless, the taint of bastardy continued to surround the births of certain progenitors of the founder of the Tudor monarchy–Henry VII.”

    Maurice Hunt – “Shakespeare’s ‘Richard III’ and the problematics of Tudor Bastardy”

    So Jasper is not a bastard and has an Act of Parliament to prove it.

  13. “A drunken frog should be able to beat Tony” – priceless.

    I can just hear them in Murdoch land:

    “Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
    Or close the wall up with our News Corp dead.
    In peace there’s nothing so becomes a man
    As an immodest cant that’s our specialty:
    But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
    Then dictate the action of the press corp;
    Stiffen the hatred, summon up the bile,
    Disguise spiteful nature with faux outrage”

    etc. etc.

  14. Scene September 14th 2013
    A News Ltd Editor:
    From this day to the ending of the world,
    But we in it shall be remembered-
    We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
    For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
    Shall be my brother; be he even Piers Akerman,
    This day shall gentle his condition;
    And lazy c*nts in England on a junket
    Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
    And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
    That fought with us upon Saint Tony’s day.

  15. Now is the summer of our discontent
    Made glorious winter by this poll of News
    And all the clouds that lour’d upon her house
    On the front pages of the papers buried…