The Krud Diaries: Day 20

Dear Diary,

                   I suppose you are still in shock at my intemperate outburst yesterday.

I admit it, diary: In a moment of weakn … inattentiveness I allowed myself to be infected by the pessimism of my minions.

Panic, diary, is a disease – the sort of disease that bunches of guys in white coats deal with – so insidious it can infect an entire organisation if not stopped.

So why was I momentarily so bereft of hope as to express an opinion that had all the hallmarks, if not the intrinsic substance, of defeatism?

Well, do you want to know something?

A response to that query can only be conveyed in two parts. In the matter of the former I believe I was suffering the effects of spending too long away from civilisation.

I mean, who wouldn’t be affected by prolonged exposure to dreary outposts like Darwin, Perth and Adelaide?

My enemies Snowden, Perris, Gray, Smith, Champion, Ellis et al lurk out there in their wilderness strongholds planning their treachery.

They are nothings. I admit I was momentarily caught off-balance, but an evening of Wagner has restored my sanity.

It was Wagner inspired my new campaign slogan, diary. Would you like to hear it?

“Ein Volk, Ein Reich, Ein Kevin!”

Was meinst du dazu, mein kleiner Engel? Nein, nein, nicht zu beantworten ... Ich weiß, es ist brillantI

I can’t explain where it came from, other than to say that ich bin Kevin. Kennedy was a tyro compared to Kevin.

I can’t wait to tell Bruce tomorrow.As I said, diary, it is so nice to be back in the civilised world. Well, not Western Sydney, obviously. Nobody could call THAT place civilized.

I didn’t want to go there, but Bruce insisted that I do – sigh, I suppose the little people must see their leader.

I should never have doubted him, that most faithful of retainers. You would not believe my joy when I arrived at the park and found it full of sycophants and lickspittles.

It was so nice to be back amongst genuine friends. I don’t think it is stretching the truth to declare that I felt their love, diary

A thousand years from now, that park will be a shrine; people will visit, bow their heads and remember the place where Kevin Volk inspiriert!

Naturally I took the time to spend some more money – it was for some hospital or some such. Naturally, it is not my money – for some reason Therese won’t tell me the pin numbers – but that just makes it so much more pleasurable!

It is actually the Ratfuckers’ money! Perhaps I have misjudged them at Copenhagen, diary: Ratfuckers they may be, but every time I ask for an extension on my credit card limit they fall over themselves to agree.

Have I told you the best part? I don’t even have to pay the money back! Isn’t that wonderful?

I get to spend it on buying votes for myself, and the little people have to pay it back!

Of course, they won’t have to pay it ALL back. I shall broker a deal for a discount by trading Tasmania to the Ratfuckers  in return for a discount off the principle.

I think it’s the principle. I’m not actually sure what that is – Therese handles all of the money thingy questions.

They tell me that, once in their possession, they shall rename the island Krudmania.

I called for a round of applause for the little Frau today. I didn’t have to, of course, but I felt it appropriate. She was most impressed. Thank fuck!

For some unaccountable reason, she was angry with me tonight. I can’t imagine why: one minute I was in the toilet giving myself a … taking a selfie with the Danii-from-Perth pic and the next minute the little-ish woman is throwing complimentary shampoo and conditioner at Kevin.

Naturally, diary, Kevin used his irresistible charm to soothe her. She has such lovely skin, meine Knödel einer Frau, and there is so much of it … so lovely and supple ...

Kevin says it will eat what it is given.

Kevin says it will put Precious in the bucket.

Kevin says it will eat what it is given AND put precious in the bucket NOW!

Kevin says if it doesn’t put Precious in the bucket NOW then Kevin will put on his night-vision goggles and get ANGRY!

It wouldn’t like Kevin if Kevin was angry.

What is that, diary? Why is Kevin talking in the third person?

I wasn’t! I have no idea what you are talking about.

Still, it is odd, diary, that you should ask that. Why, just today – THE FLIES! THE FLIES! THEY ARE ALL AROUND ME! GET THEM AWAY FROM ME BEFORE THEY EAT MY EYES! –

I heard these whispers … FUCKING FLIES … about my health, but I can’t imagine why - überall! Sie werden mich nie - Why, I am fit as a fiddle. I have a heart of a lion and can suck a sav through a garden hose!

Oh! I forgot. I have saved the best till last. Guess what, diary, guess what?

When I was giving my speech to my devoted lickspittles today I overheard a snatch of conversation from amongst my minions. What I overheard was “… fucking Fuhrer complex …”.

Naturally, I questioned my minions about this. At first they denied all knowledge, but I persisted, knowing that Bruce could not resist the power of the Kevin.

Oh, diary! When I am crown … am prime minister again they are going to build me the “biggest fucking Fuhrer complex” ever as a present!

The little minx’s! I knew it, I knew it! I am planning it already. I will have my own bunker, and a swimming pool, and Teddy and Bruce will have rooms next to mine!

Notes to self: Show Therese that I am deleting selfie with BFF Danii (send it to Bruce first); make sure indoor pool included in Fuhrer complex plans; get minion to get REALLY BIG pins for The Abbott voodoo doll.