August 25, 2005

Burning Beard

Mr Neil Falloon writes...

I'm back for the general election, and not before time by the look of things. There have been so many false starts. People talk about phoney wars and campaigns proper; but according to National and Labour, their campaigns didn't even start until Sunday. It's not true, and I know this because I don't trust the mainstream media. I'm so underground I have to dig upwards to get to the hitch-hikers' bodies buried in Antarctic Lemur 's backyard.

There's only one sure way to tell if the campaign has started, and that's to watch that electoral ground-hog, Winston Peters. Once he sets off out of his tunnel towards the Tauranga RSA, it's on, and the outlook is always a long winter of discontent. He's not looking for his own shadow, though; he's checking the ground for vipers.

Labour thinks it's struck gold with its extension to working for families; the ones who have struck gold are the families that the childless are now working for. Labour seems to have found a bunch more money than it had in May, and perhaps that's just because Michael Cullen is eyeing up the tax-receipts for sales of my new co-authored book, Public Addresses: the Comprehensive New Zealand Paedophiles and Bloggers Register. I'm so tired of Cullen's greedy glances I'm suffering from sleep deprivation - just like a working for families recipient, because a family on $100,000 per year is only impoverished in its dreams.

So now the campaign has started, although it's hard to hear over the whining of the New Zealand Party ex-members retirement village, Sir Humpties (the sign at the gate says, "Warning: Some Mature Malcontent") and the teenage recriminations of the left-wing blogosphere who insist on playing in Humpties' yard. They're more hysterical than Michael Cullen's wife at a Radio New Zealand economic debate.

A word to you pretenders. Jordan Carter, you think you can play a joke on your readers by impersonating a shrill, over-sensitive hypocrite left-winger? The joke is on you, but it's on your commentors too – the joke is written over you all like you were the crepe paper in a Christmas cracker. And just like crepe paper, you tear up easily, you little cry-babies. Spend some time on the issues, chumps, like Neil Falloon does.

Some in the media say Don Brash was wrong not to hit Helen Clark when she spoke to him out of turn in the TVNZ debate, but he's a gentleman and he did the right thing. We're living in a police state where even the police get convicted to cover Helen Clark's tracks, which are burned on the road in tyre-rubber.

Do you like that line? Jam Hipkins helped me out with it, the same way he helped out Brent Todd with a few lines before going on-stage at the Nats' campaign launch and making fun of the way local politicians’ names sound. I'm kidding – Brent Todd wasn't at the launch, and Hopkins was only getting high on David P-dealer Farrar’s adulation.

Farrar was live-blogging the whole event and then backed it up by live-blogging Business NZ’s forum on Wednesday, and he thinks he’s ubiquitous. He’s a sell-out. Here at DogBitingMen over the next three weeks we’re live-blogging life. Live. And if I’m too absorbed in my work to notice the Conservative Underground media motorcade getting up past 170kmph, it’s too bad for anyone in our way, because Ian Wishart drives like a madman and he’s still only had half a glass of red wine over lunch.

Start the election.

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