Australia’s most disgraced journalist Nick ‘Play Me Like a Violin’ McKenzie – the huff and puff and blow your own house down journo presently embroiled in a potential conspiracy to extort millions from a bunch of businessmen that he definitively labelled crooks, based upon information from his unnamed sources (oops) – has a bucket load of form when it comes to spruiking crap, and a rap sheet as long as your arm about not caring a jot for the consequences of his unverified utterings.
After all, it’s not Nick the Violin who cops the fallout.
Well not until now anyway.
I’ll admit that I am biased here, for after initially bagging the crap out of then CBUS employees Lisa Zanatta and Maria Butera, strangely for a journalist – well a Fairfax journalist at least, which I am decidedly not, praise the Lord – I took the time to ask the pair for their side of the story, and in the process actually got to know them,
It’s sorta weird that isn’t it? And after taking the time to do so I found to my surprise that they weren’t the crooks that Violin and his criminal sources painted them to be, but rather fair dinkum lovely ladies who had simply by staying staunch become trapped in a nightmare that was not of their own making.
Any journo who had taken the time to talk to the pair would have quickly come to the same conclusion, but Violin from the Fairfax Press doesn’t bother to talk to all the parties involved in a story, instead preferring to push his predetermined and totally pusillanimous thesis down the throat of the unknowing punters who part with a couple of bucks to buy a newspaper that they mistakenly believe contains inside the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
More fool them, and strewth Ruth, don’t bother about proof, just play your violin from the Calvary hill roof.
He’s a dead set c*nt is this Violin, a blackguard bullsh*t artist who fucking foams at the mouth and prints any sort of foul and fallacious frippery that he fancies will sell a fish and chips wrapper or two.He and his coterie of ingenues and right-wing darlings and ripped off and uncompensated bloggers can go to hell in a hand basket as far as I am concerned.
Geex Louise, if you want to take a balanced view of Violin’s magnificence, just sneak a Captain Cook at his blatantly biased and absolutely one-eyed coverage of the perjury charges chucked at two innocent chicks by the Royal Commission that he played cheerleader to, the one that had f*cked everything up so badly that in the end was desperate to clutch at any straw and grope anything that moved.
And after Violin’s Walkley award winning rival Doubting Thomas and his Tom-Tom AM radio brigade took a huge hit and miss at Julia G, the string-ding clown landed what in his pig-ignorance he imagined was the prize scalp of a couple of good-hearted girls who had SFA to do with anything even remotely connected to union corruption, but found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time and cutting corners in order to try and get a couple of hundred poor working-class bastards paid what they were due and owing from an offshore company run by Irish shonks who thought it a Paddy’s day joke to rip off workers, businesses, the tax office, the taxpayer, and anyone else who stood still for more than 20 seconds and was entitled to a quid.
What a f*cking crime hey?
Wanting Australians to be paid what they were owed.
How dare this duo of goddamn cows?
Who the f*ck did they think they were?
Violin was gunna sort them out, and he did too – not – proving himself to be an absolute and utter disgrace in the process of hitting and missing by publishing poorly sourced sordid tales that highlighted the top end of the potential sentence faced by the guileless gals, a whopping 5 years in the tomato can, but not mentioning the bottom, which of course was sweet bugger all, which is exactly what the well-meaning gals received.
I wonder though if Violin ever stopped for even a moment to consider the damage he caused to these poor young women who he damn near sentenced to a lifetime in the loony bin by virtue of his harbinger of hell fairy tales of brimstone and fire, told as all the while he was holding the hand of a genuine criminal and conman named Andrew Zaf, who the joke of a journalist held out as the honest herald of all truth.
What an absolute imbecile va-va-voom Violin is.
You bloody idiot. What’s that bright red thing staring you in the mirror? Is it the sun? Molten lava coming your way and about to swallow you up? The red flag rising?
Oh no, it’s your face.
What do you see when you look yourself in the mirror Violin?
A journalist? A defender of the Fourth Estate? A fearless fighter for the truth?
Nah, just a f*cking disgrace. That and the wall behind you, that’s all you see, for you are just a hollow shell of nothing.A vapid, vacuous, hollow, harbinger of doom without a decent source to your name or a dang damn scrap of journalistic integrity.
Give it up mate, before you get scrubbed out, that’s my best advice.
But hey, before you go, did you ever hear the one about Julia Gillard and the AWU union bought house?