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First Dog On The Moon

It’s not appendicitis, it’s a holiday!

First Dog On The Moon

Mar 19, 2012

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28 thoughts on “It’s not appendicitis, it’s a holiday!”

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  1. Gerry Hatrick, OAP
    March 19, 2012 at 6:34 pm

    Pfft, that Liberal senator had a mental illness, AND NO CERTIFICATE!!!! OMG!!111! ONE!111
    I’m sure the Libs are all in favour of mental illnesses (make your own jokes here), but physical illnesses be dammed! If a wheelchair bound Labor MP couldn’t get in, I’m sure Entsch would be at the step waiting for the paperwork!

    Oh dear…

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  2. klewso
    March 20, 2012 at 8:23 am

    Why can’t he have a pair of Pyne-nipples’s, he’s not using them.

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  3. klewso
    March 20, 2012 at 8:57 am

    Malleycat, alpha? What do “beetroot farmers” do? And where can I get one?

    [I think the appendix (plural?) looks like one of our abbott’s budgies
    – or, rather, what I try not to imagine it does.
    One too many Rorschach tests?]

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  4. Holden Back
    March 20, 2012 at 9:56 am

    Opposition gets a pair!

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  5. Mike Jones
    March 20, 2012 at 12:31 pm

    Here we go again. More commenting weirdness.

    DRMICK, you’re a very naughty nurse, aren’t you. Do you also offer discipline services ?

    Doggonauts, if you have an idle moment, I think you might have some fun over at the wintoning section of the worstofperth dot com blog. They have a competition inviting contributors to write something even more cheesy than their local hero’s prose (Tim that is). Laugh ? I nearly s hat.

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  6. Holden Back
    March 20, 2012 at 12:37 pm

    Do they have prostate-checking exam caravans yet?

    If it’s rockin’ don’t bother knockin’.

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  7. drmick
    March 20, 2012 at 5:39 pm

    Geez Holden, now you mention it; I think I was had by trailer park trash? or Gloria on holidays. meh…Same same.
    Prostate check my ar….

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  8. fractious
    April 2, 2012 at 4:01 pm

    For his appalling lack of judgement I hereby nominate Warren EntschooOO! (sorry, sniff, anyone got a handkerchief… thank you) as UnStrayan of the Year. Your sickie is as traditionally Strayan as nicking off for a soothing, restorative schooner or five at lunchtime, loathing date-expired traitors like Clive James and that drear Greer woman, and shouting obscenities at politicians. Someone shove a Pyne cone up his date.

    Shame Entsch, Shame (said the Hinch in a cinch), boo hiss etc.

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