IS THERE ANY TRUTH IN THE RUMOUR …

by Ross Sharp

Bear with me a moment as I crudely scrape the bottom of a few barrels …

… Is there any truth in the rumour that schlock-jock Alan Jones is a bitter, sad, woman-hating old fool who trolls public toilets desperately seeking sympathy blowjobs from dark, handsome strangers who’ll simultaneously fist him with a metal-studded glove?

Probably not, but let’s just put it out there and see what happens, shall we?

Is there any truth in the rumour that Christopher “Mincing Poodle” Pyne has a two centimetre micro-penis and the only way he can get it up is by shoving it into a vacuum cleaner nozzle while he watches his wife diddle herself with a fourteen-inch black dildo?

Probably not, but let’s just put it out there and see what happens, shall we?

Is there any truth in the rumour that Federal Opposition Leader Tony Abbott regularly scours whorehouses in whatever town or city he happens to be in at the time, and will pay double for a root if he doesn’t have to use a condom and triple if he can urinate on the girl of his choice while spanking her with a badminton paddle?

Probably not, but let’s just put it out there and see what happens, shall we?

Is there any truth in the rumour that radio broadcaster Howard Sattler is an addle-brained, juvenile fuckwit with the imagination and emotional intelligence and maturity of a three-month old child?

Definitely.

… And that, ladies and gentlemen, is where we find ourselves today.

Where public discourse about matters of politics has become primarily concerned, obsessed, with body parts, bodily functions, private relationships, gossip, innuendo, smear and rumour.

It’s all the news that’s fit to print, or to broadcast, and that’s as deep as it goes.

It’s cheap, it’s tawdry, it’s a circus in a toilet without a tent, and the big finale is a fart-lighting contest between its participants.

It’s not scraping the bottom of the barrel, so much as living under it.

Stay classy, Australia.

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