Behind every man…

16 Sep

 

Abbott & Credlin

 

According to Paul Sheehan, the Abbott coup wasn’t entirely about the ex-PM.  It was about his Chief of Staff, Peta Credlin.

The allegedly widely-loathed and uber-controlling Ms Credlin was rusted onto the PM, or he on her, and word is, Abbott couldn’t put his socks on without her approval. The only way to rid the party of this meddlesome female was to give her boss the flick.

Sheehan’s effort to construct this Shakespearean interpretation of events probably says a whole lot more about his attitudes to women than it does about the actual situation, however, that the PM and his CoS were a dark and destructive dyad is likely incontestable.

I must say Abbott cut a lonely figure when he said his barbed goodbyes. Where were the women in his life at his darkest hour? No flaunting of a wife and daughters clothed in white garments. And only two flags.

Enter Malcolm Turnbull, also supported by a formidable woman, wife Lucinda. At first blush, this couple couldn’t be more different from Abbott and Credlin, which is not to say that their philosophy will be anymore palatable, only that it will be more palatably presented which, if you think about it, could well be even worse for us.

Somebody better do something about LOTO Bill Shorten, and they better do it soon. He has all the conviction of a dying cod. I don’t know what’s wrong with the man, but his delivery stinks, its content is excruciating, and he has the energy levels of someone at the high-end of a depression test score. Turnbull will wipe the floor with him.

Indeed, the entire cohort of ALP MPs appeared to be in baffled retreat in Question Time yesterday, stunned by the speed of events and at finding themselves unexpectedly confronted by a government front bench revelling in its liberation from the stifling oppression of three-word slogans, and the narrow-minded narrative of goodies and baddies preached by a failed priest who never quite managed to move beyond the unctuous tones and medieval attitudes acquired in the seminary yonks ago. Shorten might well have taken this man down in the next election. But Turnbull is a whole other kettle of fish.

Bemused overseas observers claim that for Australians, changing our Prime Ministers has become a national sport. But it actually isn’t us, the people. The parties elect their leaders and the parties give them the boot. That we’ve had five PMs in as many years speaks to the inability of our major parties to conduct their affairs in a reasonable manner. The criteria they’re using to choose their leaders are well borked. Until they dig deep into their collective psyches and address what’s driving them into serial unforced errors, many of us will turn our backs and give our votes to independents and minor parties, which will result in hung parliaments and tetchy senates.

Personally, I don’t have a problem with hung parliaments and tetchy senates. They act as safeguards against increasingly fascist governments. However, revolving door leadership is draining, time-wasting and a bit pathetic, to be honest, so it would be nice if the majors took a good look at themselves and remembered their raison d’être is to serve the public, not to conduct personal feuds at our expense.

Abbott gave us all such brilliant material. I don’t know what we’ll carp about in the immediate future. Adios, Tones. Don’t let the door hit your unsaleable arse on your way out.

Leunig. The End

 

 

 

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2 Responses to “Behind every man…”

  1. hudsongodfrey September 16, 2015 at 10:14 am #

    It is pretty extraordinary that in a political landscape all but devoid of women the clear way forward involved excising one.

    I wonder what she’ll be doing now? On the phone to the producers of Sixty Minutes or priming herself for a leading role in Sarah Ferguson’s upcoming sequel The Killing Season II the curse of Kevin rides again!

    And what of the only other prominent woman in cabinet, the mercurial Ms Bishop Jr., she of the remarkable political contortions? Not afforded one of those backhandedly complimentary labels, like “the Teflon Lady” perhaps, but chided instead as a cockroach on talkback radio, because she’d survive a nuclear holocaust.

    Peals of laughter are said to be clearly audible some considerable distance around the new Gillard residence.

    Meanwhile in Canberra Turnbull who has neatly usurped the previous Baratheon by a sound but not too comfortable margin of 54 to 44 will be watching his back intently no doubt, and Albo feeling ever so slightly relieved….. Watch this Space!

    Here’s a photo that nightmares are made of….

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Forrest Gumpp (@ForrestGumpp) September 17, 2015 at 9:11 am #

    Embedded for the serendipitousness of the Twitter handle in the context:

    ‘The woman tempted me, and I did eat …’

    Like

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