The Krud Diaries: Day 12

Dear Diary,

                   I am invigorated, meine liebe.

Saving the world always does that for me. Of course, there will be some posturing, a little to-ing and fro-ing as other world leaders scramble to realign their own policy stances to reflect my own, but I am confident that now that the world is aware that my gaze is on Syria an imminent solution is inevitable. The power of the Krud is irresistible.

The Kevin Lemon Chicken Risotto was also a resounding success, naturally.

Today was an excellent day, diary, and I am feeling just chipper. Oh, there were some Evil Regime-Change Murdoch minions who attempted to muddy the waters by throwing sand in the eyes of the little people, but I brushed them aside in the same way a Prime Minister – a role I happen to occupy – swats a blowie off the bonza burgers at a Brizzie burgher’s barbie.

One of the primary reasons for the excellence of previous 12 hour period, diary, was that I had the opportunity to spend it with little children.

As I’m sure Dietrich Boenhoffer was oft wont to remark: Pflegen Kinder: Sie können ihre Meinung zu manipulieren und emotional erpressen ihre Eltern!

I played with them in the sand-pit and regaled them with happy tales about the desire of my Government, of which I am Prime Minister, to build things.

Naturally, diary, I also appraised them of the nature of The Abbott, that nature being one of a wrecker predisposed to cut, cut, cut the jobs of teachers, doctors and nurses.

I had instructed my minions to be sure that those children present were the progeny of teachers, doctors and nurses, of course: the better to send that little frisson of fear up their little spines.

They were putty in my hands. Apart from one three-year-old, obviously an agent of the unbelievers, who resisted my blandishments and assaulted my person with a lego block.

If I just say this, diary: We have his name.

I also conversed with the parents. They weren’t the parents of the actual children, of course, but that is a trifling detail which should concern nobody.

So, what else happened in my day, diary? I’m glad you asked that question because it raises an issue most pertinent to the matter currently under discussion.

And do you know something, my little journal of excellence, as Prime Minister I know that we, as a country, can’t afford to just sit around and wait for things to happen.

We have to Build. Build. Build today to create the Jobs, Jobs. Jobs of tomorrow. And I’m just the Prime Minister to borrow, borrow, borrow to do it.

That is why, diary, I announced today that my Government, of which I am currently Prime Minister, is going to build a High Speed Rail line from Brisbane to Melbourne.

It is sehr brilliant idea, mein Tagebuch.

Indeed, it is as brilliant today as it was in 1984 ... and 1986 ... and 1989 ... and 1991 … and 1996 … and 2007 … and 2010.

Of course, diary, the main impediment to the proposal in the first instance was cost.

A paltry $4.5 billion!

Pfft, diary. No PM worth his salt would commit to borrowing such a paltry sum of money.

And as I am worth more in salt than all of the Inadequates who previously held this position, I wouldn’t let my valet get me out of bed for a project costing less than $100 billion, especially now that I have an unlimited supply of Ratfucker money. No, diary, $114 billion is a much more impressive price!

It will be the autobahn of the future, diary. It will transform the country! It will transform the way we live! It will transform my ability to move my besondere Aktion Krud Bataillone to trouble spots to crush dissent … but that is for the future.

My press gallery flying monkeys did their job adequately. I told them that MY railroad would cost less then The Abbott’s paid parental leave scheme. Not only did they faithfully report my little subterfuge, they ensured that no Murdoch minions queried whether it would also cost less than Disability Care or Gonski. My cultivation of these creatures was time well spent, indeed!

The only blight on my day, diary, was the discovery that The Abbott appears to have infiltrated a spy into my mobile headquarters.

His creature, Newman, was heard to say that he would like a supersonic jet. My minions will find out who leaked my plans to announce that my beloved car workers will build a fleet of supersonic jets.

The traitor will be found and dealt with.

I must abandon the plan now, of course. Fortunately, I have an alternative plan available for a contingency such as this: the announcement of my plan to build a bridge to Tasmania will leave The Abbott speechless with amazement. Of that I have no doubt.

Finally, diary. I have taken to wearing my ties again. Quite frankly, the mobs of Krud-Krazed women that flocked to every public appearance were getting too difficult for my minions to control.

Notes to self: Question Billy The Rat regarding his performance on Q&A this evening – I have warned him before about his little problem; get minion to acquire another The Abbott voodoo doll, the one I have doesn’t appear to be working.