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Sunday, 18 August 2013

The Krud Diaries: Days 22, 21

Dear Diary,
                   Sigh. How good it is to be back filling your pages with myself again.
I wish I could have been with you last night, dear diary, but I was trapped in a dreary meeting with my so-called ‘advisors’. As if they could ‘advise’ ME about anything!
I had to sit there while they droned on about polls, of all things.
I didn’t bother feigning interest, of course. After all, it is irrelevant whether the people like my caucus drones or not, they will all be voting for ME.
They wailed that the polls were saying that Beattie was going to get flogged in Forde. Indeed, diary, I am heart-broken the USURPER will not win a seat – ha, ha, I made a little funny there.
There is only ONE saviour from Queensland, diary, and that saviour is ME!
Admiral Bradbury is going to lose his seat in Sydney? The cretin who said that he loves Ju … Jul … That Woman, so much that he wanted a tattoo of her on his arse is going to lose his seat and they want me to cry about it?
As Dietrich Bonhoeffer would have said: gut, boo fuckin 'hoo, fick die snivelling kleinen Stich!
Perth was so ho hum. I threw a few million bucks at some research thing for a floating something-or-other. Bruce knocked up that policy on the plane on the way down from Darwin.
It was something to do with the oil and gas industry, apparently, but what’s a few million bucks when I’m going to tax the fuckers back into the stone age when I am crowne … re-elected?
There is not much else to tell about Western Australia. I met Allanah What’s-her-face, who is running in Smithy’s old seat and boy-oh-boy diary, a picture may say a thousand words, but photoshop can remove a thousand years.
The whole day would have been a boo hoo borefest but for my new BFF, Danii.
They sai … she said she thought I was wonderful. I said that I thought she was the breas … best advertisement for the ALP ever. Then she said she thought I was looking tired and would I like for her to give me a fitness tit … tip. Then I said that I had to ni … that I had to zip.
That idiot Bissett – I think that is his name – kept staring at her assets, but it was ME she wanted the selfie with. He’s got the memory, but KEVIN has the picture!
Fuck Perth.
I spent today in Adelaide, diary. The City of Churches – a photo opportunity on every corner!
I threw half a billion at the unions … car industry. By golly, diary, it feels good to spend money, especially when it isn’t my own – most especially when I don’t have to find it for five years!
Naturally, I wanted to bestow my largesse immediately, but apparently Bowen isn’t very good at sums. He’s likeable enough, but he has a lot to learn about being a true sycophant.
One of the few useful idiots in the media still to be converted to my cause, tried to make a brouhaha about me praising Ford workers at a Holden factory, but that was a mere trifle.
Holden parts, Ford parts? All made in China!
Did you like that mein kleiner engel?
I confess I borrowed it from the same source that gave me the inspiration for Little Gracie.
Do you remember Gracie? She wrote me a lovely little letter begging me to save her from climate Armageddon all those years ago when climate change was a sure-fire vote winner.
Did you discern my little clue there, diary? Here is another clue: when I casually intimated to my minions my belief that I bore more than a passing resemblance to Bruce Willis, to a man they agreed with me – not that they had any choice, of course, the parallels between myself and Harry Stampfer are too uncanny to ignore!
Where am I going with this, you ask?
Do you know something? That is a very good question and thankyou for asking.
I’m not sure myself, diary. Perhaps I am fatigued. Perhaps I have fallen prey to the DENIERS amongst my minions who are expressing the view that Kevin may l … lo …. los … no, I refuse to believe that my public do not love me.
They loved me today at the bbq my minions arranged for the little people at For … Holden.
Of course, I knew they were cooking the snags all wrong, I mean, fair suck of the sav, but what else could I do but take over? Why, oh why, am I the only one who can do everything properly?
There were some mutterings from the back that the sausages were burnt, but that is only because the unwashed don’t realise that carbon is good for them.
Oh, diary. There are enemies all about me: don’t they know that Australia will die without Krud?
I admit it. OK, I fuckin’ admit it. I think the party is going to lose. There, I’ve said it.
I won’t lose – as if! – but the party will lose because it doesn’t truly BELIEVE. IN ME.
They are going to lose. They are going to lose. They are going to lose.
Sob. Goodnight diary.

Notes to self: Send minion to buy The Power of Positive Thinking – dispose of minion afterwards; start listening to Wagner again – fuck Ned Flanders; order minion to do to me what photoshop has done for that Allanah woman. 

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