Creepy Kev and the New Model Army

Just about the only good thing about Saturday was the fairly clinical and certainly emphatic removal of Little Jonny from power. He has been a disgrace and I'm still not convinced that he was given a sufficient hammering by the electorate.

The amusing departure of Peter Costello who ran like a yellow dog when faced with the prospect of being in charge in opposition hasn't enraged me or disappointed me as it did Jeff Kennett. Right now the Liberals need the catharsis of tearing themselves apart and in all probability the next Liberal Prime Minister is not yet a member of the federal parliament or in any way visible as a contender.

Turnbull is a smart-arse filthy rich merchant wanker who stinks of the glossy side of Sydney, Tony Abbott is insane and Brendon Nelson is deeply weird.

Quite how the leadership contest will play out is something I don't particularly care about, except that who ever wins will clearly be stupid and distasteful enough to deflect from Creepy Kev some of the intense scrutiny which is his due as Prime Minister, whether he likes it or not. At some point in the future The Creep will be pinned to the wall by a journaslist and made to explain himself. And that won't take long. Because the Creep exists in what otherwise is a vacuum. He doesn't represent much except a blander milder version of the outgoing Prime Minster.

Some prescient souls took one look at Tony Blair and thought yuk. We've been joined since by a lot of others who've come to appreciate that beneath the emollient surface lay a void. The fact that the emollient surface also served to disguise the nasty truth the truth at Fat Gordy is inept is quite beside the point.

Who's got my bank details Gordy?

There's an unpleasantly disappointing facet of this: the way Australians have been beguiled just as Brits have seen off the Oily Creep and his ferociously peculiar wife, to spend more of their time in the company of a geriatric german in a long frock in Rome. If it takes the good folk as long to despatch Creepy Kev, who spent his first day as PM-elect on his knees in a bet-hedging act of god-bothering at a Mass at an Anglican church, they'll have had a good few chances and failed the sense test.