‘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.