Albo gets a Bex and a good lie down

Ms Rona isn’t known for doing anybody a solid, but she might’ve slipped Albo a free one after he did himself no favours forgetting to rememberize his stats homework last week. It doesn’t matter that Smoko deserved a caning, and didn’t really get one for up-fucking his own campaign on multiple occasions. As Clint Eastwood reminded us in Unforgiven and, to be honest, Scott Morrison’s entire career pretty much proves, “Deserve’s got nothing to do with it.”

Albanese hasn’t turned out to be a great campaigner even though, “I’m not Scott Morrison” is a pretty fucking great campaign slogan. It might be that having a Bex and a good lie down for a week, and literally just phoning in a couple of hits a day to a carefully curated list of yammering idiots on commercial radio could be exactly what he needs right now – especially if his heavy hitters jump into the ring and give Smoko a tune up with the stadium furniture.

I’m writing this through a migraine, so maybe it’s just the codeine talking, or the two breakfast tequilas I washed it down with, but some of the Opposition’s better hammer-chair-flying-scissor-kick-combos have been delivered by the underbosses, Wong, Marles and Chalmers who seem to enjoy launching into Morrison and his goombahs with brutish two-fisted abandon.

As you would.

A week of those three leg-breakers delivering one beat down after another and I’d wager Smoko would be on the phone to Clive begging for a truckload of the magical horse worming paste that cured him of the spicy cough.

Because despite the Gallery narrative that Albo done fucked this all up, there’s not much evidence of Smoko playing a blinder the last two weeks is there? And there’s plenty of ammunition just lying around for anyone who’d care to pick it up.

Between the cock up in the Solomons and the PM tripping over his own dick to get his favourite transphobic milf onto the ballot in Warringah, Scotty is having a normal one, insofar as sloppy, mean, lazy and incompetent all fall well within one standard deviation of normal for the maximum fuckmuppet of our reigning ineptocracy.

Perhaps he was playing four dimensional chess taking the NSW Liberal party to the brink of civil war by imposing Katherine Deves on Warringah. Maybe he was willing to cede the seat to Zali Steggall for a shot at grabbing up the nine western Sydney ALP seats which voted against marriage equality.

Or maybe he’s just a cunt.

But even that doesn’t explain his stretching out on the banana lounger with a big fat umbrella drink while Xi Jinping takes out a mortgage on China’s newest military base at Honiara, three quarters of an hour flying time from Cairns if you’re rocking a Chengdu J-20 stealth fighter. Even shorter if you just decide to pop off a couple of air-to-ground missiles.

What does explain it though, is history.

No, not the Second World War, grandad.

Personal history.

Specifically Morrison’s.

His ‘handling’ of the Solomon Islands fiasco is of a piece with his handling of… well, everything. It maps directly onto his standard operating procedure for any problem large or small. Ignore it until it starts killing people, then wrap the whole mess up in a sticky ball of hundred mile an hour tape while somehow trying to blame someone/anyone/everyone else.

He did it with quarantine. He did it with vaccines. He did it with the bushfires. He did it with the floods. Twice. And now he’s doing it with an honest to goddamned national security issue.

There is a darkly funny irony to this fucking guy thinking he should make the threat of China an issue in the election, because even a cursory examination of his record in dealing with a host of crises that fall well short of the existential challenge that would come from war in the Pacific suggests that he is the last fucking person you’d want leading the country when that shit goes down.