‘this is the same sort of rhetoric.’ glamour backed into thrifty
sunset. leigh sales ogling her predecessor hardline, mind
already off-air, at play ganglial, tweeting world-affairs-lite.
the veiled absence, the caustic twist, the sex-flecked eye-whites.
tony jones represses ‘but surely…’, via opinion mindful of his
repetitive other-side prattle, only truly inflating for jokers –
joe hockey curled & magnanimous, placing the population
as a whole, simple workaday closet cross-dressers;
peter garrett smelting stonefish, testament to pragmatic
passion in his ‘thank you’ (bitterness unrehearsed);
& barnaby joyce a representation of real people, you
know, as a philosophy we all blunder into power, etc;
any former leader framing education reform in the able
terms of golf, laced with silver service, left or right –
glam performances ruffle the plumage & grin.
spare me all recondite jousting. the autocued
lineation disrupted your flow of lips & emphasis,
improbable dangling participle leigh, business segue.