Ahahahahaha... nuff said.

Nicking Ray Martin's hair and dying it blonde is certainly impressing droves Channel Nein viewers, if Big Moderately-sized Kev's alleged popularity is anything to go by... Except, of course, those polls are measuring two-party preferred, and Bob's Green Machine have been gaining serious momentum in the wake of sexy Al's hot environmental flick... and no wonder, given the shit the other parliamentary monkeys have been flinging around and calling environment policies. Will the Greenies steal ALP voters? Or a few Liberals, too? That's the real question that's been dishevelling Moderately-sized Kev's hair, not this dodgy business with Fat Bastard Burke from WA... More hairspray, mate - pack it on! You'd think he'd be more aware of the dangers that humidity poses to one's do, being a dirty rotten Queenslander and all.

So things are looking up for the Ruddsta, while the economic growth that Keating set in motion is finally peetering out, leaving the Liberals looking rather confused... or maybe it was the gross human rights violations in detention centres, or the failing invasion of Iraq, or continually damaging relations with Asia, or leaving David Hicks to rot, or pandering to an embarrassing US government, or imposing antiquated industrial relations policies on a disgruntled populace, or the heinously poor-to-nonexistent environment policies, or... yep. With a bit of luck, the oily dwarf isn't going to be able to slime his way out of this disgusting trash pile before the next election...

But issues, be damned - hair is so hot right now. In 2007, politics is all about the hair... or lack thereof.

Geez, I'm glad I've retired. Politics is so embarassing these days, wat up, yo. And I'd totally have an unfair advantage with my gorgeous flippy-floppy boyband tresses. Fuckin' a.

Cheers,
Uncle Latho xo

Oi, toss bags - it's time once again to turn off "the internets" and go read something worthwhile. Haha. Now watch this drive... I mean, now read my new book. It's called A Conga Line of Suckholes and it's coming to a bookshop near you soon, so get your fat arses off those swivel chairs and get buying. Or pre-ordering, yo. You don't want to make it into my little black book of suckholes, do you? Your Uncle Latho knows all about who's been naughty and who's been nice this year. Don't think I haven't been keeping an eye on you... You and your oily little dwarf, too.

And I suppose I should give a shout-out to El Comandante Peter Beattie up north, too. I guess you'd think a shiny orange-faced man would be capable of leading the sunshine state back into the light. Yeah, good luck with that. Last time I checked, orange wasn't the fashion of the future, and trees were reaching for the sun - that smacks of green to me... Obviously Garrett didn't get that memo in time, either. He may be Australia's premier dancer, but sheesh, a genius he aint... Too many Peters in the ALP, and not enough kicking Tony Abbott in the balls. And Keg Beazley could do with a good nerfbattin' himself. What a turdburger.

Well, that's all the oratorical genius I have for you today, kids. Time for an afternoon nap.

Peace out, bitches,
Uncle Latho
xo

Court? What? I don't got no time for no court appearances, in-between fighting camera crews outside my Glen Alpine abode, writing a new sex0r book, and sending abusive emails to Tony "Punching Bag" Abbott.

Good old Tones, eh? Still trying to scrap the abortion pill. Hey Tone, here's a newsflash: support for RU486 from the smart kids of the nation - like yours truly - has actually got nothing to do with compassion, good morals, or basic human rights, my weaselly little matey (although those are also all fine, upstanding reasons to support it). The truth of the matter is that we just don't want people like you breeding. And we've seen that you don't know how many bastards you've got out there, and even get confused over which ones are yours... Your moral high ground is awfully shaky, Tones. If only arselickers like you would stay out the the genepool. Sheesh. We've got enough idiots running around who don't have a fucking clue who or what they're voting for as it is... hence why people vote for hypocritical weasels such as yourself, Tones, and other assorted Liberal Party suckholes. Bastards.

So, our favourite punching bag of an MP is currently going by the name of "snivelling grub", thanks to some good work from my former deputy, Ms Gillard. Nice one, Jules. Wonder where you learnt that? Certainly not from daft old brain-leakin' Beaz. Old Uncle Latho is quite chuffed to see that all his great work in trying to bring colourful metaphors back to politics was not completely in vain. A bit more profanity from the old boys would be nice, too, to preserve the Latho Legacy (and that of my more colourful predecessors), but still no sign of that bloody Rudd knucklehead doing or saying anything remotely interesting. What's wrong with fucking some Liberal Party shit up? In my day, it was considered most grouse... Why, I oughta...

But less about that trainwreck of an ALP and more about me... "Witty, and sort of political." That's what they're saying about me and my new book, and aint it the truth, yo? So, what'll you be getting your mother for Christmas? Yo mama has my book on top of her things to read list, and if she doesn't, you just let her know where Uncle Latho belongs, okay kids? (That's on top, ma bitches). Wurd.

Cheers mate,
Latho.

Bloody hell, May already? You totally lose track of time when you're bludging off the government. Like, totally. Wurd.

What's your beloved Marky been up to, you might ask? For a start, I've been reading to my kids, since the bloody education system ain't going to help them. Since the ALP has dismantled my glorious education plan I've all but given up hope. Bloody Beazley - what a chubby clown. Don't get me started. He couldn't punch his way out of a wet paper bag. What Labor needs is a leader who isn't afraid to punch his way out of a papparazi scrum or an encounter with the religious right abortion-pill-banning bottomfeeders... A damn shame my pancreas doesn't agree.

My hott wife Janine has become a hottshot lawyer, which is hott. As well as being a supportive hott spouse and model stay-at-home dad, I've been signing Andrew Wanker Denton up for midget porn spam (that may or may not feature a certain greasy PM we all know and despise). I've also been working on my hott bod, yo, and I am one damn fine piece of arse, let me tell you. Forget the front page, I am Australia's next Page Three Girl, except I'm a real hott manly man ahunka burnin' love.

But I suppose what you really want to hear about is Uncle Latho's adventures with the paparazzi stalkers and the offspring down at Hungry Jerks. (I guess if you eat shit, you have to deal with shit - a karmic lesson there, perhaps? Wurd.) Let me tell you, kids: News Limited has some real classy employees. What a top organisation - sending their vultures after nice old dads out for a bit of a snack with the kids - we should all be so ethical... Wait, was that a bullshit cough? A little louder, Australia - cawn, you can do it. I want to hear the bullshit cough loud and proud from the press gallery of parliament house every fucking Question Time and every fucking time these media arseclowns start spewing forth bullshit in the newspapers and on the TV screens, y'hear? You bludgers have been slacking off in my absence, and don't think I haven't noticed - Uncle Latho sees you when you're sleeping, and he knows when you're awake, so get your shizzle off the nizzle and get wizzlin'. Get up, or some shit. Don't make me come over there, mate.

Those bloody media suckholes won't give up on trying to suck the life outta good old blokes like your Uncle Latho. It's all fun and games until someone loses a camera... Yeah, ain't it, Ross Schultz? Ya bastard... And with no parliamentary buttmunches like Tony Abbott to take a swing at, what do they expect? I gotta practice my l33t boxing skills and flex my hott bod sometime, yo.

My court date has been delayed while I work on a new strategy. My original plan of action was to punch my way through the media circus into Campbelltown Local Court, but the lawyer bloke wasn't hip to the Latho jive. So May 24th is when I'll be courteously replying to charges of "common assault, malicious damage and stealing from a person." ... My tight, toned arse, I will. Those bitches are going down.

I gotta bugger off - I've scheduled some Neighbours watching time with the kids (that Harold Bishop, what a champ - a true Australian hero right there). Hope you knuckleheads aren't too lonely without me. Stay in touch, y'hear? Down with war, up with hott bods, wurd to your mother.

Over and out,
Latho. xo

Are you reading my book, kids? You'd better be, 'cause I'll be testing you on it later. The first printing sold like hotcakes, but it'll be back on the shelves in early October so even more Australians can get themselves a better education (see? I'm still helping youse guys). It's a searing vision of the wounds this century has inflicted on traditional masculinity... oh, wait. That was Bridget Jones or some shit, wasn't it? Same diff. It's all sexy and highly relevant.

People said I came across as bitter and twisted on Denton and Lateline and all those other leftie programmes. And maybe I'm even depressed... Yeah? C'mon then, mofos - got any other labels you want to stick on Uncle Latho and his nerf bat? Eh, eh? ... Yeah, didn't think so. What did they expect from my book? A happy little fairytale of Australian politics, featuring yours truly as the spunky head elf and Johnny Howard as the balding dwarf who's just a naughty lil scamp who ain't as bad as all that? And Keg Beazley as the frog who might one day turn into a handsome prince of a PM? ... Ahahahaha. Mine is an evil laugh.

Seriously, though - what the fuck drugs are these idiots on? Some people have no freakin' sense of humour, or decency come to that. And your Uncle Latho is a funny bastard and a fuckin' decent man, yo. I even stay home and read to my little squalling brats while the wifey goes off to work. I'm a lovely honest fella, and if you don't believe me, maybe you oughta have a chat with my nerf bat. It'll knock some sense into ya.

But mate, this book writing and touring bizo has really worn your Uncle Latho and his pancreas out. After the next lot of interviews are over and I've had time to scratch meself, I'll be back with some more fresh and fun-loving banter for you little bludgers. Stay tuned.

Lotsa love,
Uncie Latho xxx

Instead of quitting, I should've just sent in the Lathobot... Or a congaline of Lathobots even. Fuckin' a. (Y'know, it might still be worth throwing a few bots together and sending them after that bitcharse Brogden).

That's not to say my health isn't improving - I'm getting fitter and sexier every damn day, and here's a piccie to prove it:



That oughta keep ya warm at night. I'm at the forefront of Generation XL, yo. Westie adultescent retrosexuals in the upper house, y'all.

Sweet dreams,
Uncle Latho.

Our favourite little Methodist... I wonder what his god thinks of him? And mate, since I am the most god-like bludger around these parts, lemme tell you what I reckon: he's an oily little dwarf, and when I say oily, I'm talking black gold, yo - Texas Tea... or Iraqi Tea that was stolen by a Texan teetotaling tosspot at any rate.

Hope you kids are still holding it together for your Uncle Latho. There's dark days ahead in the Senate, and the ALP isn't without its fair share of suckholes at present, either. But don't you worry your pretty little heads about it too much - Uncle Latho is keeping an eye on things. The most sacred and holy of nerf bats are at the ready... It worked on Bob "Mussolini" Carr, yo. Now, if only Keg Beazley wasn't so well-padded.

Cheers mates,
Mark.

Don't get too excited, kids. Your Uncle Latho isn't back on the bench in Canberra just yet. Hold your horses.

I've still got a dodgy pancreas, but I'm still not at all chuffed with the state of politics in this fair country of ours. And I'm going to keep complaining until that tosspot greasy troll McHoward is booted from the top job, and until I get to punch Tony Abbott... again. Punching Tony Abbott is like eating Lays Potato Chips - you can't stop at just one.

You thought I was out for the count? Then you haven't been paying attention, you redneck goit. I'm back, and I'm feeling kinda hip-hop, yo. Tell ya friends, tell ya co-workers, and wurd to your mutha: Latho's back in town.

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and Happy Easter, fuckers. It aint over 'til the fat lady sings, and I for one haven't heard Amanda Vanstone belt out a decent tune recently, because she's been far too busy deporting frail old ladies. And whatta suckhole bitcharse mutha she is, yo - Amanda, that is, not the old ladies... I'm sure the old bat from the Philippines would vote Labor if she could remember who we are, yo.

Talk at you soon,
Uncle Latho

P.S. Why those dumbarse publishing houses are offering to pay 100-grand for the right to publish my political diaries when you can get them all here, I'll never know.

Heya kids,

Chin up, hey. Less than three years to go now, and yer Uncle Latho is still bringin' the love, yo. Your mighty Latho won the ALP leadership again - big fuckin' surprise there since I was unopposed. Between the chick support and the nerfing threats I've got this party firmly under my royal left thumb. And I don't mind if the chicks see me as an object. It's sweet as being the hot stud of Australian politics, if you ask me.



Wurd. Stop bludging around on ya fat arses and help keep the Latho Love alive by whacking this in your journals and blogs, you damned lazy knuckleheads. Don't make me come over there. Get the code: ( here )

Speaking of love... Mate, have you seen the new line-up I've got happening? Mate, that's something I don't mind copping an eyeful of every day, and let me tell you - that congaline of suckholes aint gonna be able to concentrate on a damn thing with all my bitches on the front bench, yo. It's all about sexy covert tactics, mate, and the Beaz, well - his breasts just aren't what they used to be. Couldn't manage to give meanie Creanie the boot yet, but I got three years to work on it. He's got all the charisma of a haggis and christ, he could bore the pants off a Barcelonan transsexual, (not that he's ever met any because that would make him infinitely more interesting than he actually is). But never fear - Latho and Big Kev have got it all under control. The only thing left to sort out is getting some control over Garrett's dance moves. Dunno about Gillard taking over the treasury though. Chicks and maths, geez... I hope she can count better than she can read a map, yo.

Later,
Latho.

Nice to see some support for The Truth from Mr Leunig:

Yours hungoverly,
Latho.

Australia,

You have betrayed the lord our Gough and his only begotten political son, Latho. Fie, FIE! I predict there will be seven plagues of regret: the sale of Telstra, the destruction of Medicare, more damaging Americanisations, higher interest rates, further embarrassing human rights abuses against immigrants and indigenous people, Christian fundamentalists, and Tony Abbott.

Well, to say I'm sad in my pants is an understatement. I hope you've all got a pair of brown rubber underpants on stand-by, and I hope you like the smell of rising interest rates in the morning, because that seems to be what you've got, you arselickers. And no thanks to the Democrats or One Nation for losing votes to the congaline of suckholes. An oily little dwarf who can't even manage his eyebrows could do better, and sadly, he has.

Next time the ALP kids down at the polling places will be handing out beatings with nerf bats rather than How To Vote Cards. The polls indicated that Australians are knuckleheads and are in dire need of having some sense beaten into them. I want to thank all my supporters, but y'all clearly deserve a clip over the ear for not breaking enough arms. I expect better next time, knuckleheads. Don't make me come over there. Why I oughta...

Screw you, Australia, you bunch of ignorant arses. I'm off to the pub but I'm not gonna drink and attempt to climb the ladder of opportunity. Not again. Ouch.

Next time, yo, next time...
Latho.

Dear supporters and other assorted idiots,

This election campaign has been too long and too stupid, thanks to our little lying rodent mate patronising the entire nation with his continued bullshit, however the friendship that I've struck with the looney leftie Bob Brown looks like it'll be rewarding. I had a funny dream about a Labor-Green coalition, and it was far less disturbing than the time I dreamt Tony Abbott was leader of the congaline of suckholes. And mate, how about his interviews? They were pure golden crap. Was nice knowing ya, Tones. Actually, it was nicer punching you in the face, arselicker.

So the tree-huggers are happy with my old-growth forest policies, and the 800,000,000 bucks I'll be chucking their way. Meanwhile, on another planet, the Tasmanian Forestry Unions are shaking hands with the oily little dwarf and pledging their support for the Coalition - which provided yet another what the fuck? moment in this election campaign. John suckhole Howard, who was responsible for industrial relations laws that craps on union power and reinvests the power in employers. John suckhole Howard, who will happily support forestry employers sacking their workers if they go on strike. Well done, Tasmania. With behaviour like that, how about staying out of the gene pool permanently (like we know you like to do anyway)? Knuckleheads.

The Liberals have summarised the Green platform of decriminalising drugs as the legalisation of drugs, yet again. And they want to talk semantics when I get my tax levy thingies confused? The hypocritical scum-sucking suckholes. And the Democrats, what a bunch of losers. Never mind that they successfully put themselves at the top of endangered species list, now the knuckleheads are giving preferences to Family fucking First. I mean, seriously, what the fuck is democratic about Fascists First? Talk about flaky. The sooner the Democrats are on the extinct list, the better.

How about that Family First volunteer saying "Yes, lesbians should burn in hell" - isn't that George Wanker Bush's slogan in the states? How bloody original. And apparently "Satan" likes to frequent bottlos, gambling places, brothels and mosques. If that was true, he must spend most of his time in Canberra, yo, but as for mosques, what a load of bigoted baloney. Is that who the people of Australia want holding the balance of power in the Senate? A bunch of right-wing fundamentalist Christian, homophobic, xenophobic, Muslim-phobic morons? Oh wait, we already have those - they're called Liberals. Bloody hell, if I spent that much time being phobic I wouldn't have time to scratch myself, never mind running the damn country.

There's so much garbage being thrown around - no wonder this place is in a mess. The Libs have got their values shoved so far up their arses they'll never see the light of day. And Howard says public schools "do not have values" and redistributes education funds to schools that send letters to parents reminding them just how good the Coalition has been to them. Everyone's bitching about class warfare because I want to give the money to people who need it, yo, rather than dimwitted upper-class tea-totalling arselickers whose votes are easily bought over an extra glass of chardonnay. Bloody hell.

On a more pleasant note - I'd like to give a shout-out to my new favourite knucklehead who contributed to the ALP election campaign by purchasing a paid livejournal account for yours truly. Your Uncle Latho is much obliged. Cheers, matey. It'll be put to good use, yo. And big thanks to all my official friends and other readers out there - you've clearly got impeccable taste in literature. But don't think I'll be through ear-bashing you sons of bitches when the election is over. I intend to overstay my welcome, both here and in the office of Prime Minister, yo.

So kids, if you care about the future of this country like your Uncle Latho does, vote for me, knuckleheads, and if you don't, I'm sure there's a nerf bat with your name on it around here somewhere.

See you on the other side,
Latho.

Yo, Australia, wurd up. I hear ya. Now hear me, you daft knuckleheads, because I know what you want, and I'm speaking on your behalf. Let's rap about opportunity, responsibility and honesty - the key theme of this rockin' campaign for a new Labor Government. This message comes from the heart - the big heart of the Australian people themselves. And a big heart deserves a big leader, and that leader is Latho, mate. Werriwa's Latho, mate. Cheers.

Learnt from the people, I have. Know their concerns, I do. Their needs and aspirations for the future, a real urgency, I see. Change, we must have. Urgent, it is. Unless we change now, too late to save Medicare it will be - too late to jack-up bulk-billing and improve our public hospital system for all the layabout bums on the dole. Unless we change now, too late for the fairness of our education system it will be - too late for needs-based funding in our skanky schools and new opportunities at hoity-toity unis and TAFE. Unless we change now, too late for the families under financial pressure it will be - too late to solve the family debt crap and deliver tax relief for all yobbo taxpayers. Unless we change now, too late for the security and safety of our nation it will be - too late to shift policy and resources to our backyard BBQ, getting it right in Asia in the fight against tofu. And unless we change now, too late for the basic decency and honesty of government in this country it will be - too late to restore strewth in government and end the deceit and bullshit of the Howard years. Help, you need? Vote Obi One Mark Latham, I'm your only hope.

I'm down, I've got the 4-1-1. I'm gettin' jiggy wit' the Australian people, and you deserve dope ride to the future wit' your Latho on-board. Our plan for a stronger, safer and kickarser Australia. Our plan to engorge the economy by investing more in shit like education, by creating incentive and rewarding hard work, by reforming the Trade Practices whatsit and helping weeny-sized business. Our plan is to use this bling bling well, to ensure that the hard work and bling bling of the Australian people delivers a social benefit: the world-class health and education services we need for the bling bling of our children, yo. And save Medicare, blah blah blah, you know the drill. Terrorism bad, diplomacy good, etc.

We need a Prime Minister who trusts the people, who tells them the truth about the great issues of war and peace. A Prime Minister who actually has the capacity to read War And Peace, but doesn't, because that's boring fascist Russian pap. You want a Prime Minister who has read the York Notes Advanced on Tolstoy, who knows his shit. And when things go wrong, y'all want a Prime Minister who is big enough to take responsibility and not blame others, except if the Liberal Government is doing something fucking stupid again (which is highly probable), then it'll be their fault. We need a Prime Minister who will take the people into his confidence, not least about his own intentions. Get a couple of beers into me, and I'll spill me guts. Just keep the taxi drivers away when I'm tanked. I don't like them.

It's urgent to bring sex appeal and bling bling, yo, to Australia's top job. And that's the difference between Labor and the Liberals. We've got a great public plan for the future, yo, and it doesn't involve me retiring and getting reduced bus fares. You want a leader or a leaver? Do you want Labor to bring the rock to the party and rock rock the party, or you want the Liberals and a platter of mouldy old cheese? I have a simple goal: to give the Australian people as good as I get, and to bring new cheese the leadership of the nation. Do you want Howard The Tea-Totalling Pansy in the book of records as Australia's second-longest serving PM? That means he would beat Hawkey - a good old fashioned alcoholic Aussie battler to the last - and then he's just going to chuck a Menzies and not serve a another term. Bastard.

My fellow Aussie Aussie Aussies, oi oi oi. Labor kicks arse because:

* Our voice is the voice of the peeps.
* My voice leads the voice of Labor, and it's pure sex.
* I'll support Thorpe as much as the next yob.
* And I know shit and will use that shit to improve shit.

And that shit, in turn, comes from the community, the people who believe in me and my shit, the people who have given me so much help, every step along the way. Except for taxi drivers. I don't like them.

Me Mum taught me to believe in ambition and aspiration. She gave me the best advice of all: study shit, work hard and live your life in the service of knuckleheads, because they can't bloody well be trusted to run their own lives, can they? The Westies I grew up with taught me to believe in Australia and the possibilities of progress. A place called Green Valley, yo, gave me a passion, a head spin, and a belief in opportunity for all, like, whoa man. And now in my life and in my home, ma bitch Janine and the homeboys have taught me the power of caring, of our love and time together. Lord, I'm doing all I can, to be a better man. I'll unite my peeps, and we'll all be hip to the same jive, yo.

I'm a Spring chicken at a mere 43 years of age - in the prime of my life (wink, wink, nudge, nudge) - I have something to offer our country (wink, wink, nudge, nudge): the beliefs and values of a good society (wink, wink, nudge, nudge). I reckon:

* No matter where you come from, you should have the same chance to suck at life.
* A society where we look out for each other, not just for your Uncle Latho, mate.
* And if someone falls, we get down yo, and pick them up and give them a second chance in life. No one gets left behind.

I believe in governments helping knuckleheads. I believe in opportunity, and the ladder therein. But Latho also helps those who help themselves. There is no way out of poverty and disadvantage without having a go, ya bums. I want to lead a government that will free up the Australian people to have a go, by giving them all a fair-go, mate. Except taxi drivers. I don't like them. This is what I mean by the ladder of opportunity - all Australians, except taxi drivers, climbing upwards, like how I clawed my way into the Upper House. Making a better life for themselves and their families, knowing that at the same time, they are making a better life for me... Or making Australia stronger and fairer. Either, or. I'm commited to making a truly prosperous and secure nation for all Australians - even the congaline of suckholes who don't vote for yours truly.

Yo dudes, Australia needs, and needs now, a new government. Needs, needs, needs. And I need a new job, because arguing with Howard is fucking lame. Just vote for me. Cawn. I'm optimistic and energetic. Listen up. Y'all are wanting:

* A government, a Prime Minister with fire in the belly, or it could be the curry I had for lunch.
* A Prime Minister in touch with the Australian people, especially with my wife (wink, wink, nudge, nudge).
* A leader who believes in the people and always trusts in them. But I don't trust Howard. He's a fuckwit. So's Tony Abbott. And Costello. And Downer. And taxi drivers.

A government as big and generous in spirit as the country we love, with more beer. A government with the plans, the leadership, the will and the energy to take Australia forward, towards more beer. A government for the people, not just for the powerful beer. A government that cares about the needy, the sick, the frail, and the beer. A government that gives real life expression to the great Australian ethos of a fair-size schooner of beer for all. A government for the many, not just the few (beers, of course).

That's why I'm asking for the support of the Australian people on the 9th October - to achieve these goals: our mighty crusade for a stronger, safer and fairer Australia, through the election of an Australian beer. I mean, Labor Government. Yeah.

See you down at the pub,
Latho.

P.S. Ease the squeeze.

Ease the squeeze on the ladder of opportunity. It's like there's a party in my vocabulary, and everyone's invited (except the dickheads in the congaline of suckholes). With lines like these in combination with a great soundtrack, the next thing on the campaign trail will be Latho: The Musical. Ease the squeeze on Australia with your Uncle Latho, kids. Ease the squeeze.

Latho,
Easing the squeeze.

P.S. Do you think if I bamboozle knucklehead swinging voters with annoying catchphrases, they'll vote for me just to shut me up?
P.P.S. Ease the squeeze. And for the youth vote: wurd up, bling yo.

The ALP has always been a bit of a supporter of artsy crap, and as you may well know, music has always been a bit of a sideline interest of mine, yo. (Politics is my day job, and after some advice I'm not going to be giving it up for a career in yodelling.) Now, The Whitlams are a favourite of mine, of course, as well as the Oils and the Crowdies. They rock my bitchin' argyle socks.

Why I bring this up is that I was reviewing the Great Debate vid this arvo, and it occurred to me that it would've been a helluva lot more appealing with a soundtrack - some funky tunes, if you will. Maybe a few Australian classics like Beds Are Burning and TNT to fire things up a bit. Little Johnnie could use a bit of a theme tune to get his eyebrows into the groove, and I'm thinking something creepy along the lines of Tripod's Hotdog Man might suit him, or, for the more serious moments, Ben Fold's 200 Solemn Faces And One Angry Dwarf would go down a treat. For myself, I reckon a bit of sexy Good Vibrations to shake my booty to, by my namesake Marky Mark. In the interests of supporting the local music industry, a bit of Bring Back The Biff from the Footy Show boys might also work, or All My Friends Are Fuck Ups for me old mate Beaz. I gave Hit Me Baby One More Time a bit of thought, but dropped it when Abbott started with the whining again. Mark did this, Mark said that. He just doesn't take the nerfing threats very well. He's such an arsewipe, and he reckons I'm the one lacking in testicles? Yeah, good one, mate.

I should get Pete to work on the soundtrack for the next debate, and maybe he could come up with a few new tracks for a special episode of Australia's Funniest Question Time Moments. He's been doing stuff all lately, other than spending all day shining his bloody head up, and it reflects in the bloody promo pics. He thinks he's so punk, yo, but I showed him up in this one:



Rock on, Australia.
Latho,
Easin' the squeezin'.

How about that debate, hey folks? I know I shouldn't be counting my chickens before they're hatched, but sixty fucking seven!

Did ya check out those funky worm graphs they did afterwards? I own national security, man, and to think I was worried about that. It's good to see the Australian people have seen through the fear-mongering terrorist fridge magnet crap. The chick from The Age also said that Mr Poopypants Howard spent a lot of time below the line and I spent a lot of time above it. Personally, I think that John Howard crossed the line and he threw up on it, and old grey politician vomit smells uncannily like bullshit. He's full of it.

And Medicare, yo. The ALP has got Medicare by its guts. We will never give up and never surrender, not unlike Winston Churchill. I'll even fight Howard on the beaches if I have to, but I don't really fancy seeing him in Speedos. We're gonna get bulk-billing back up to eighty per cent, which is pretty damn sexy. I reckon at least half the audience in the studio and at home would have had to pay sixty bucks to see a doctor by now, so that vision-impaired rodent trying to spread more lies about our healthcare system doing well under a suckhole Liberal government just didn't wash.

So the final debate results? 67% to 33% - I won, you daft little bastard. Apparently the people of our great nation agree that size does matter, as does a good head of hair. While those are the same results Kim "The Tank" Beazley got a few years back, I've got one thing that knucklehead hasn't got: sex appeal. Speaking of which, you want to know a secret? If you reckon I was listening to even one word of the monotone drawl coming out of Howard's lying mouth, then you're a bit of a knucklehead, aren't ya? Wanna know what I was thinking about that was making me smile? Yo, check it out:



Ahh, how I love the campaign trail... So, after all that, the moral of today's debate was: I said stuff about stuff. John Howard said stuff about nothing and nothing about stuff all. I rule, he sucks, the end. And vote for me October 9 - let's not forget that, knuckleheads.

Goodnight ladies, lads, and Miss Universe,
Marky.
Sexy, powerful man.

Hi kids,

I was hanging with my mate Kezza O'Brien at the ABC last night. We kicked a few rad ideas back and forth, and yo - he was totally making the moves on me. Can't say I blame him - I'm a damn fine piece of arse in a tailored suit.

Did you catch the little giggle I threw in at the end of the interview? Man, I'm cute. Dude, in the bag. The election is in the bag... Well, perhaps. Wussypants Howard has agreed to one interview, and only one. Either he's running scared (as a long campaign alludes to), or the oily little dwarf is going to drop a clanger of a point to try and fuck our progressive shit up... Can't say I'm looking forward to it. I can barely stay awake listening to him talk in circles as it is.

Dude, he called the election on October 9 just in time to miss the two week parliament sitting where the truth about the Children Overboard guff would have been brought to light. That pesky little Johnny has manipulated the people of Australia and the democratic process with his lies to cover up more lies, and to cover up the lies of the fundy Christians that are pulling the Liberal Party strings. The knuckleheads down at the Lyons Forum - that's where the power's really at: with right-wing nutters. Let's not forget that. The ALP has right factions, left factions, and progressive factions within its structure. We represent all walks of life, not just the fundamentalist loony tunes you've come to know and hate under Howard.

And hell, next time you think the ALP doesn't know shit about running the economy, keep in mind I won a big shiny university medal in economics. That's not exactly small change. And given that chubblywubbly Costello has thus far refused invitations to debate Shadow Treasurer Simon Crean, well, maybe Howard isn't the only one running scared. Have you seen the budget deficit the Libs have run up in the past month? It's not exactly pretty. In fact, it's as ugly as Alexander Downers inability to distinguish Australia and the US as two different nations. At least the Ruddster actually has a background in Chinese history and culture so we won't go pissing off our neighbours like that bloody Newcastle yob inappropriately waving Free Tibet flags around the new Beijing Olympic stadium the other day. Talk about daft.

Gay marriage and gay rights. After last night with me and Kez steaming up lounge rooms around Australia, I think it's an appropriate time to bring it up. The ALP is going to establish a new level of equity for gay couples. We have not forgotten you or backpedaled on the issue. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain (Murdoch), the Great Oz (Latho) has spoken.

And kudos to Michael Moore for gatecrashing Bush's electioneering in the states. Funny fat bastard, that one. More of a laugh than The Beaz, at any rate. It's just a shame Mr Kerry seems to have even less testicular action than I do, otherwise he might actually have more than a chance in Hades of succeeding. And if you're still wondering where Bush's fabled Weapons Of Mass Destruction are hiding, then look no further than Howard's pro-right-America stance. The weapons are right in front of your eyes, in the form of the FTA, the Lyons Forum, and all the gay and racist bigotry this Liberal government has been promoting over its last two terms in office. I could go on and on and on, but yeah, you get the point...

And the point is... Well, I had a point, but I forgot it in-between all the over-intellectualising of Australian politics. It went something along the lines of Vote 1: My Pancreatitis, I think, or Vote 1: ALP, and save the future of our great nation, and get yourself a sexy PM in the process. Something like that. Back to the campaign trail...

Much love,
Latho.
Interviewee Genius.

An election about trust? Well, thanks, that's the election to me on a silver platter, John. You're a top bloke. Maybe I misjudged you, or maybe you're still just a one-dimensional suckhole... No wait, those eyebrows certainly are three-dimensional, aren't they? My mistake. Sorry... Sorry? Yeah, that's a word you could stand to learn, you daft bastard.

Does Howard even know what industry he's working in? Talk about out-of-touch. Even the chubby old Beaz has never tried launching an election platform with crap that was that deserving of a nutter. At least Knowledge Nation sounded kinda cool, even if it did intimidate the bloody rednecks.

I'm all about the ladder of opportunity, and this war of words over who Australia can trust is the perfect place to start. Let's review: 27 Lies And Counting... Who the hell does he think he's fooling? And I mean, those are just the obvious lies, never mind the time he said I looked hot, fit, and taut in a white shirt before I was sent off to play cricket against the press, the son of a bitch. If only for that, he deserves to be thrown overboard on October 9. And, y'know, the last time we had a 6-week run-up prior to an election, Hawkey got in and Labor ruled supreme for 12 years... Twelve glorious years of Lathoism? I'm sexy, I'm cute, I'm popular to boot - bring it on, yo.

The ladder of opportunity, people. It starts on the pavement of education and leads to a rooftop of Prime Ministery. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to finish my morning latte of alertness on my balcony of foresight, and read my Murdoch newspaper of propaganda. And from today's comic page of artistic genius...



That one's going straight to my scrap book. Pure gold.

Cheers mate,
Latho.