We all know what “getting our country back” means. It’s snorting a line of the most pernicious and debilitating Little English drug, nostalgia. The warm, crumbly, honey-coloured, collective “yesterday” with its fond belief that everything was better back then, that Britain (England, really) is a worse place now than it was at some foggy point in the past where we achieved peak Blighty.
Comments closedCategory: word power
In the vacuous expanse that is Australian policy debate, building defence vessels creates jobs while building hospitals creates debt.
Comments closedTradition is the passing on of the fire, not the worship of the ashes.
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I wake up every mornin’ Lord and what do I see
I got a fool in my mirror and he’s lyin’ to me
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….and a cold-hearted hypocrite gets his come-uppance. With poetic justice, this master of cover-up goes “viral”, thanks to his attempt to censor. (and – as just updated, at bottom of post – he’s since had a second, more substantive come-uppance)
Pelicans first…
One CommentYou would think by now policymakers would know that anything is better than running latter-day gulags in crumbling nooks of the Pacific.
One CommentRavishing cinnamon skin all aglow.
You’d never know it’s a faulty body
It’s hot and bossy.
On it goes, though it knows the bow’s drawn.
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Weathered blond as a grass tree, a huge Beatles haircut
raises an alert periscope and stares out
One CommentThe hours ran silently after one another like grey rats, disappearing into the darkness.
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