By the meaningless chatter and clatter of your post you must be one of those 'doddering daiquiri diplomats'.<<
There is something I can’t quite put on my finger on about these posts. Hold on, there it is! No, no, it’s gone again. Wait, it has come again! It has come like a spectral nightingale, whose song trills out in the memory of all who hear it, for many a blue moon after.
Your words ring out like dulcet notes from an angels harp, played for the puissant pleasure of the Gods. They fall over me laden with tumourous portent, like tumescent dewdrops on a freshly sprung spring morn: softly, softly. To view them is like angels pis*ing in my eyes, to read them is to be shafted like a w*ore in a Turkish brothel: again, again. To read your words is to be groomed: as if the reader were an autistic ape with nits.
Hearken! Hearken ye Hotcopper readers! Hearken ye to the valour and courage of the Australian Liberal Party! O fearless leader of the Libs, can you not raise your mighty cassock and smite thine enemies with your mighty rectum? Your lowly servant asks it, O Majesty. O lord of the Liberals, master of the muck, creator of crud, ask thine loyal servant Peter Costello to smirk in my direction! Ask him to smirk as has never smirked before, O master! For I am in need of succour, and it pleasures me so. Please ask Peter to halve the CGT, and halve and halve again! Please slash the welfare budget, and slaughter Medicare! Please ensure the offspring of thine holy consummated marriage with George W. shall rule the earth forever! And for a few more years after that! Your lowly servant asks it, O lord!
