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Thursday, 29 August 2013

The Krud Diaries: Day 10

Dear Diary,
                   You will have to excuse me if I am distracted tonight, my little journal of record.
In just 10 days there will be an election and the the fate of Australia will be decided, which is precisely why I. Need. To ... practice my Russian.
Privet, ya Kevin, ya iz Kvinslenda I va zdes’, chtoby pomoch!
I know your German is up to scratch, moy malen’kiy dnevnik, but Russian is not your strong suit so what I said just then was “Hi, I’m Kevsky, I’m from Queensland and I’m here to helpsky’!
Isn’t that wonderful, diary? Do you see how quickly my amazing intellect mastered that?
The Abbott would never be able to that.
Already, I can hear the sighs of relief in the G-20 conference room when I stride into the room and utter those immortal words.
I may also not be able to spend the amount of time I would like to you this evening, diary, because my FUCKING bus was sabotaged.
It was obviously an act of subversives, in retaliation for my wiping the Rooty Hill floor with the tactless pugilist. Or, as my good friend Vlad would say: ‘scrub the earth with the peasant cuntsky.
The driver is being questioned, of course. Reprisals will be swift.
I am also monitoring the investigation my minions are conducting, as we speak, into the nature of the questions asked at the debate.
I issued very specific orders to Bruce to infiltrate my agentskis into the audience so that I could be asked questions about Syria so I could demonstrate my impeccable foreign policy credentials.
You remember Syria, diary. It is the crisis I am currently dealing with on behalf of the worldski.
It is clear that the failure rests with my minionskis – The Abbott’s minions are not smart enough to discern my subtlety. I am having second thoughts about promoting Bruce to Number 2 when I assume supreme power. I will return the eye-patch and cancel the order for the hairless cat.
And how was the debate itself?
Thanks for that enquiry, diary. You know something? I’ve pondered long and hardski that very issue and I think its worth stating a Clear. Unambiguous. Easy-to-understand position on that, so let me just say this:
I tire of these so-called debates, quite frankly. The Abbottski is an intellectual lightweight. Unlike me, his analytical skills were not forged in the white-hot crucible of the Second-Directorate – Stationery and Shredding Division of an overseas embassy posting.
The fool’s only attacking thrust was to accuse me of fear and negativity! Me!
I fear nobody – my press minions guard me constantly – and I am positive I am the saviour of the Motherland, of which I am Prime Minister, and its little people.
There were some tiresome questions from malcontents, but I easily batted them asideski. One moronic little person even asked me to deny undermining That Woman!
Of course I was undermining her, my little journalski, why should I deny it?
What I did, I did for the Motherland. I rid MY country of a traitor and usurper. Lets call a spade a spade here folskis: the peasants should give me a medal!
I have already awarded myself the Order of The Krud Banner, of course. My good friend Vlad will probably bestow some baubles on me and Barry has already assured me that he will be carrying my Congressional Medal of Honour to St Petersburg.
There was another question concerning landski. If I could just say, diary, I will never allow the Ratfucker kulaks to purchase The Motherland. It would, interfere with my programme of collectivisation and my plan to convert Queensland into a holiday retreat for myself and selected senior party functionaries.
(But, not Bruceski. HE can spend his one week a decade leave in the Northern Territory.)
Let me just say this too, diary. There has been some talk that the G-20 is an economic forum and will not discuss my plans to save the world from the Syrian crisis.
These foolskis never learn: The G-20 will discuss what I want it to discuss. Am I not Kevski? Is not the world waiting for me with bated breathski?
There has also been some talk to the effect that I cannot be absent from The Motherland during an election campaign.
Sigh, with the election already won, what does it matter? Let The Pugilist thrash and flail. I have an advance party of minions already in Moscow. I will travel there by trainski from St Petersburg and announce my victory from the steps of the Kremlin.
It will also give me a chanceski to measure up Lenin’s Tomb. MY tombski will be bigger, of course, but it will be interesting to see how less important figures in world history are treated.
Do you see what I have doneski here, diary? My entry is littered with Russian! I’ll be fluent by tomorrow!
Gotta Zipski.

Notes to self: Get my minions to: find the traitor who keeps putting superglue on my microphone; check on the whereabouts of Admiral Bradbury when my bus broke down; make sure my shoulder boards arrive before Wednesday night.

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