Being disabled as I am – differently abled, I call it; unique even – and disliking direct contact with people other than the twins ($6600 the pair at Dr Dayood’s, the best money a bloke ever could spend), I tend to spend a lot of time reading when I’m not playing with them, and practice making perfect a mug punter like me learns to spot mistakes.

Hitherto upon discovering how bad the modern day outsourced sub-editing system is, and indeed how average some mainstream journalists are when it comes to actually writing, I had simply chuckled to myself and chortled out loud ‘you f*cking amateurs’. But the world’s an ever changing organism, and mine’s changed around me now that I’ve been inducted into the writers hall at the Australian National Museum.

The Bead Twirler, her chest puffed out with quite understandable pride – you should see the twins when they’re puffed up: Holey Guacamole Mephistopheles! – reckons that now that I’m famous I’m simply wasting my talents writing only a couple of stories a day. Apparently sloth’s a sin, or so she says, and nothing else will do but that my output increases and I simply write more, and no amount of protestation about artistic creativity wending it’s natural course and taking a bit of time could persuade her otherwise.

So in an adagio dance move so bloody quick it couldn’t be noticed I reached out my arms and transitioned the Twirler’s point of balance hoping to pull her into a swoon so that her head would spin and she’d lose her train of thought. Reaching quickly into the ‘Become a Geebung Gigolo in 5 Easy Minutes and Five Hundred Dollars – and Watch Goliath Grow Too!’  toolbag I’d bought I’d bought off Kevvie, who holds the master franchise, I turned to page seven and suavely segued into the old half-Flashman move, grabbing the Twirler with one hand around the waist and then descended to the right butt cheek where it grabs a firm hold, and the other hand straight onto the left tit, entering from underneath and stroking upwards until it’s centered and then taking a firm hold there too.

I’d used the old half-Flashman a hundred times before and it had never failed me.

But this time it did, and I blame the government.

You see just the day before the Dole Office had sent the Twirler on this ‘improve your productivity at work’ course run by some mate of a Government Minister who’d landed a $27 million contract to lift the work outputs of the unemployed punters across the wide brown land – and good on the bloke too I say: those bludgers need to work a whole lot harder and smarter, except of course The Twirler, who just needs to go sit on a park bench with her sangers in a brown paper bag and pretend that she’s gone to work so I can have some peace at the Polo Club and catch a bit more sleep – and she’s come back bouncing off the ceiling and high-fiveing me every 5 minutes and screaming out ‘Yeah Dole Boy! Lift that work rate bludger boy! Muuuuutttttuuuualllll OBLIGATION!!!!!!’

I tried to explain to her that actually, I wasn’t on the dole, she was, but it didn’t wash. You know these bloody zealots, they’re sold on the idea that they’re the only ones with the right ideas and turn into twelve year old Jehovah’s Witnesses who die because they won’t do dialysis or 70 year old men who abuse pregnant 12 year old rape victims outside of choice clinics. The Twirler wasn’t quite there yet, but she was on the way and traveling at speed, and I had to pull her up quick smart if I wanted any semblance of a peace-filled future.

So, long story short, I’ve lifted my output by 33%, the Twirler’s over the moon and has raced down to the dole office to tell her case manager, and you have to cop Archie’s Alternative Media Watch. I’ll let you off easy first time round though and only chuck you a couple of clangers.

Hope you enjoy the uplifted output as much as I enjoy keeping the twins sweet.

Latham’s disputes are not the only ones boiling away at Sky either. The long-standing enmity between former Liberal speaker Bronwyn Bishop and former Labor heavyweight Graham Richardson is infamous. Similarly there is no love lost between Bishop, whose political career was ended by Tony Abbott, whose former chief of staff Peta Credlin is another Sky commentator. 

Nick O’Malley, Sydney Morning Herald 29/3/2017: The strategy behind Mark Latham’s Sky News controversies

Damn right alley cat! There’s no love lost at all between Bronwyn Bishop and …… who?

Allen believes that since Sky was taken over entirely by Rupert Murdoch’s News Corp Australia, its focus has been on attracting subscribers rather than winning ratings, and that in the long run Murdoch would be more interested in developing a “potent and dangerous” political voice rather than a profit centre.

Same story – increased productivity’s all about working smarter, not harder.

1.Pay TV doesn’t get its’ main dough from ratings driven advertisers son; it get’s them from subscribers; and

2. Are you seriously trying to tell us that Uncle Rupert’s doing something other than for money or a root with Jerry Hall? Pull the other one alley cat, it jingles.

Appleby has target stayers at the bottom of the weights for the Sydney Cup however there is a touch of class in Penglai Pavilion, which ran fifth in Treve’s  Arc De Triomphe in 2013. While the trainer  labelled Polarisation “more a dour stayer”.

Chris Roots, Sydney Morning Herald 22/2/2017: Charlie Appleby’s pair the only Championships raiders as Canterbury turns blue

Um yes Chris. It’s totally rooted.

Please explain.