I have been turning the tables on the woman beater, police king hitter, little girl hurting, drug addict, thief, liar, lightweight and total loser Grant Stockwell for a week now, and if this gutless coward who threatened my family and threw bottles at my old man’s house still has a job with News Corp then there is something very, very rotten in the State of Rupert’s kingdom and we should all just cancel our Courier-Mail subscriptions and go home right now.
But would you believe that Archie and the prime C*nt had a connection way back before either of knew that other even existed?
It dates back to a little known by-election in a shit electorate called Blain in a sh*t town called Palmerston just outside of a sh*t capital city called Darwin in a shit prefecture called the Northern Territory in the year of 2014.
My best mate Matt the Bald Eagle was the Secretary of the Australian Education Union in that crap joint at the time. I had devised and run his election campaign a few years before, won it for him in a landslide – I’m pretty good at that sort of stuff, my skills fed my family for quite a few years – and being the hard working, smart committed bloke he is the Eagle had done the yards and won the next union election in a landslide.
Then he discovered that there was a pedophile on his union executive, and mindful of the pain that child abuse had caused some of his brothers and me he decided to take a principled stand and punt the c*nt as far as he could f*cking kick him, but to his abject surprise the majority of the union – their pumps primed by the pedo’s wife, also a member of the executive – out voted the Eagle and not only demanded that the kiddy fiddler remain in the union tent, but determined that his legal defence would be funded by the member’s collective money.
“Fuck that!” said the Eagle, and he decided to run in the by-election on an anti-pedo, anti-drug platform, and an urgent phone call was made to the Geebung Polo Club.
I was at a bit of a loose end at the time after having been diagnosed with severe post traumatic stress disorder that rendered me permanently unable to hold a normal job like I used to, and had nothing to do after my previous attempt at self-medicating by writing had been stopped in its tracks by a wanker named Peter Simpson from the ETU who had taken umbrage at a satirical article I had written about him and thrown a hundred grand at a fat fuck union lawyer and woman threatening thug named Luke Forsyth who hated my guts because I knew too much about his rorting, and together the pair conspired to spend union funds like they were water and shut my previous website down.
So when the Eagle asked me for help that I was always going to give – because that’s what real mates do – and then added that Simpson’s crew were funding, resourcing and backing the Labor candidate in the by-election, I couldn’t get on a plane quick enough, and with six weeks to go until the election and the Eagle starting from zero I landed in Darwin and set to work.
F*ck we ran a good campaign, even better than the ones that I had run in South Auckland when I was 100% well and helped secure the vital Polynesian-dominated seats that secured Helen Clark another term in 2005.
We branded it Bald in Blain – the Eagle is not called the Eagle because he is hirsute – and we were on the front page of the paper almost every day, and all over the radio and first or second on the TV news every night, and some of the madcap stunts we pulled to gain attention and votes are being replicated in elections State and Federal still.
Sadly we were running in an electorate full of barely literate morons who didn’t know sh*t from clay, predominantly didn’t read papers, had hocked the TV set for drugs, and couldn’t afford batteries for the radio so were no chance of winning the seat, but we were both smart and experienced enough to know that and didn’t kid ourselves that it was a possibility, even though we talked it up as big as we could.
Our real aim was just to knock the pedo supporting Labor candidate and his leader Delia “the Dill’ Lawrie (above) out by winning enough first preference votes to climb above the Greens candidate and, courtesy of a slippery vote swap deal I cut with the wide eyed fools, snaffle the lions share of their preferences and then slip them to the happy clapping, holy roller midget Country Liberal Party (CLP) candidate Nathan Barrett and get him home.
Not because either the Eagle or I liked the CLP – we hated the f*cking Tory bastards – but because we hated kiddy fiddlers a hell of a lot more and wanted to sink the slipper into the pedo supporting Labor mob as hard as we f*cking could and kick the c*nts into political oblivion.
And guess what?
We pulled it off.
All of our preferences should by right have flowed from the Unionist candidate the Eagle (real name Matthew Cranitch) to the Labor stooge copper candidate Geoff Bahnert, but by a combination of my cunning and strategc ability and my mate and candidates willingness to follow my plan to the letter no matter how crazy it seemed – when you only have a six week window in which to work you have to do whatever it takes – plus then fact that I engineered a preference swap with the Tories, we managed to split the vote, split the preferences, and get the tosspot and turd Nathan Barrett from the CLP elected and f*ck Labor six ways to Sunday in the process.
Of course the union thugs from the ETU weren’t happy that we had derailed their dishonest Labor front “Not 4 Sale’ campaign and threatened to bash us both throughout the campaign, but the Eagle and I are birds of the same feather and cut from the same cloth and are blood brothers, so although severely outnumbered we told the bash happy c*nts to go and f*ck ’emselves, and went on the front foot by threatening to beat the living shit out of them and challenging half a dozen of the pricks to a two on six fight at the pre-poll ballot booths.
We know all about the pea hearts of bullies the Eagle and me, so when we both got up in their faces and started screaming at them we knew they’d back down, and were prepared to go the distance if they didn’t even if it meant a bruising, but it never came to that because just like our old mate Stockwell the woman beater the c*nts went to water quicker than Bolt springs out of the starting blocks, and we spent the rest of the campaign rubbing their cowardice in their faces at every opportunity.
F*ck it was a lark, and although a concerted $200 000 last week spend by a suddenly desperate Labor saw planes and cranes and skywriters and a totally out of proportion advertising blitz peeled about 5% of our vote away, we had done enough to jump the Greens on the primary and hand the wanker CLP munchkin Nathan Barrett (below with his crazy happy clapper wife and his corrupt leader Adam Giles) the win.
That’s where the small world thing came in, because after the election we both f*cked off back to Vegas – me with a smile on my face after squaring up with the union wannabe heroes who had shut down my anti-corruption website, and the Eagle with the hundred thousand odd we’d negotiated with the union desperate to get rid of him – and guess who stepped off into Darwin on the very same plane that we hopped on to?
Grant f*cking Stockwell, the woman bashing c*nt.
You wouldn’t read about it would you?
But now you have, and it’s 100% true.
Ha ha ha ha ha!
It’s a small world after all, it’s a small world after all, it’s a small world ……..