I’m with Stupid

Spotlight on Spud

If you’re the mop and bucket wallah at a back street rub and tug or, worse still, a News Corpse hack you may well think your job sucks. But imagine being one of those Lib functionaries who is assigned to stare adoringly at El Chippo during one of his televised pressers. How demeaning. A gaping chasm in self-respect is required to publicly display fawning deference to a witless goon who has the allure of a parking station bollard! That must be mortifying when you’ve got the inside skinny on what an underwhelming unit he really is. This goo-goo eyed sycophancy is intended no doubt to help disguise his vacuity – the void where no deep thoughts trouble his conscience. Now, with the election campaign underway he’s being subjected to the scrutiny heretofore gone missing in the corporate media’s witless protection programming.

* * * * *

Have you noticed how he never smiles with his eyes? Except once – with a chirpy self-congratulation at hitting a press cameraman full in the face with a football (“Got him! Got him! He’s split open too!” 😃¹). A forced rictus with dead-eyed stare is his standard mien – the chill that then runs up your spine being all of the warmth that he can generate. But also, at times he’ll clench his buttocks to squeeze a grimace – intended as a smile no doubt but it’s more suggestive of a sniggering schoolboy who has farted in your lunchbox.

The Voice was his Viagra. He was as aroused as it is possible for a 3 day cadaver to be. It was manna for his rat bastardry wrapped, ribboned and delivered at his feet by a well-meaning but credulous Albo. FUD, provoking division, explicit anti-indigenous racism (no dog whistle required), projection (‘Yes’ advocates are the racists apparently), the bogey of “woke, inner-city, radical left” culture warriors, out-of-touch Albo, wannabe whitey Jacinta Name Ya Price deployed as Chief Astroturfing Officer, lies, lies and lies (the Voice will have veto power or act as a third chamber, attacking the AEC and a “rigged” process).

Opposing not proposing, the tuberous opportunist of “If you don’t know vote ‘No’ ” is a shameless, detail-free hypocrite. The garroting of the referendum was his defining moment and was to be his ticket to 𝖪̶𝗂̶𝗋̶𝗋̶𝗂̶𝖻̶𝗂̶𝗅̶𝗅̶𝗂̶ ̶𝖧̶𝗈̶𝗎̶𝗌̶𝖾̶ The Lodge.

“Dutton conned himself into thinking he was doing brilliantly.” (Sean Kelly, SMH).

This would-be potentato is so slow on the uptake that the back of his head is covered in bug splatter. He’s thicker than a coal miner’s sandwich, his judgement even finding virtues in a woman whose cack-handedness turned her to compost in less time than it takes to wilt a lettuce.

“Liz is an incredibly intelligent, pragmatic and courageous leader who will not only make a fine Prime Minister but also lead Britain through challenges domestic and foreign…Liz will be the strongest of leaders to advance mutual security and economic objectives with Australia…” (Spud on Liz Truss, Sept 2022).

His subsequent defaulting to a Farage-like fanboying of Trump and his fixations for inspiration to fill his policy void is not characteristic of a strategic visionary.

“He’s not become the President of the United States by being anything other than shrewd, you’ve seen it in his business life, and the art of the deal is important to him, that both sides of the deal are contributing, that nobody’s ripping each other off.” (Spud, 2GB, Feb 2025).

One orange-stuccoed chucklefuck alone cannot sabotage the well-being of an entire planet – Trump’s exercising of his psychosis needs a supporting ecosystem of corrupt RWFW and RWNJ effluvia surrendering their fealty to their moron-in-chief and that’s where Spud planted his flag. MAGA/“Let’s get Australia back on track”, DEI, WFH, DOGE, the “woke” trope, threatening to abolish the Dept of Education, accusing schools of indoctrination, limiting overseas students, threatening to deport dual citizens, immigrant bashing, Palestinian-demonising… the bin juice of far right shibboleths.

Bell-bottomed bogan Michaelia Cash was quick out of the blocks:

“The Merkin peeble, thoi ex-pegged action, and that’s what thoi are getting and thoiy’ll get the exact soime additude unner a Poida Dutton govvament.” (The marching band cat lady on Nine Network’s Today show).

Trump V1.0’s kakistocracy of greed and grievance, the cynical made in China MAGA merch, the sexual predation, the fraud, the broken businesses, the wall-to-wall grift did not turn the Tories from the tutelage of their MAGA mentors. With Trump V2.0’s win they lined up outside the spray tan booth. Then they were confronted with the all too obvious kinks in the slinky. It only took threatening Canada and Greenland with annexation, abusing Volodymyr Zelensky, torching the world economy and slapping Oz with arbitrary tariffs.

A re-set was called for. Time again for the Hard Man© <sound of bugles>. Spud would have us believe that he, amongst all of the world’s leaders, is the one capable of shirt-fronting Trump. Hmmm… rings a bell.

“… I alone can fix it.” (Trump, July 2016).

This hard case is scared of scrutiny, terrified of the ABC’s Laura Tingle. He disappeared for days at the first whiff of grapeshot yet he tells us he can challenge Trump. He deploys hapless flunkies as human shields – his 2IC, Suss with the face of a deflating balloon reflecting her rapidly receding expectations and Twaddledumb and Twaddledumber – the deer in the headlights Calamity Jane Hume and Miss Appropriation 2019 Brigit McKenzie. Always with the women under the bus.

Spud’s not a smart man. He says he can find “common ground” with Trump, but suggesting he could deal with the tangerine turd just further entrenches a view of his Trumpy alignment. His technique is yet to be tested but spooning the Dementadon (with reach around) is not the image most of Oz wants of their PM.

Where to from here? He’s been outed as an acolyte of a bloated Caligula, a tangerine-tainted Mini Me, a self-regarding buffoon of no readily apparent worthiness. The Tory handbook will be getting dog-eared, the application of the dark arts being desperately work-shopped as their chances fade. There are even whispers of a possible Spudectomy. Enjoy the next few weeks – the intensity of the worshipful stares at Duddy may decrease as their hopes and dreams get dashed on the rocks of karma.

* * * * *

¹ The cameraman, Ghaith Nader, is a former refugee. You could patch up the Titanic with the irony.

This article was originally published on Grumpy Geezer.

Dear reader, we need your support

Independent sites such as The AIMN provide a platform for public interest journalists. From its humble beginning in January 2013, The AIMN has grown into one of the most trusted and popular independent media organisations.

One of the reasons we have succeeded has been due to the support we receive from our readers through their financial contributions.

With increasing costs to maintain The AIMN, we need this continued support.

Your donation – large or small – to help with the running costs of this site will be greatly appreciated.

You can donate through PayPal or credit card via the button below, or donate via bank transfer: BSB: 062500; A/c no: 10495969