MirandaDevine.com

BIke Riding Vegan Lesbian’s Toilet (source: Jared and Corin)

Every now and then I climb off the pedestal and engage in some serious investigative journalism. Not that I really need to – from up here, in the company of the literary greats, I can spot the bike riding vegan lesbians as they engage in their day-to-day banana-bending scandals.

I am like a hawk.

With my keen eyes I zero in and divebomb the leftist mouse as it cowers under the canopy of the rainforest. I eliminate it with my talons of doom, fashioned from one-sentence paragraphs. My beak hides a sharp tongue of wit and womanly wiles. I am too fast for you, leftist scum. I am Miranda Devine, travelling through time, space and the supermarket at the speed of Ordinary Australian.

I have just returned from a cruise, which I took to celebrate the incarceration of that walking 7-11 store, Paris Hilton (she’s always open for business). I hope they feed her hotdogs in jail. After all, pretty much everyone else has tossed their “hotdog” down her ever-widening “hallway”.

Hideous!

My cruise took me to the deepest darkest Pacific, where I exploited the Islanders for all of their natural resources, and got hammered on some superb coconut-based cocktails. It was like Redfern, except the darkies were surrounded by water (as they should be), with absolutely zero opportunity for them to invade my territory. To expand my world view (as if it needed expanding anyway!) I read a book about the genocides in Darfur whilst I sat on the beach and sunned myself.

All very troubling, but honestly, Middle Australia, let’s talk about the real problems in the world.

Toilets.

The S-bend dilemma has troubled our nation ever since those pesky politicians canned my excellent dam idea. For your benefit, I will elaborate.

Quite recently, I had a Frenchman by the name of Jean-Pierre billeted to my house. You see, I have a scheme going on where I open up my house to Europeans, find out whether they have communist tendencies, and then dob them into the authorities as terrorists.

I’m just doing my bit for the community. No need to thank me, I am a committed global citizen.

At around the same time, I had a new toilet installed at my pied-a-terre, having utterly obliterated the last one after a night on the sauce with Gerard Henderson and some seriously spoiled doner kebabs. According to the leftist plumber bureaucrat from the Water Board, apparently my trusty 20-litre-per-flush-with-foaming-soap-rectum-jets model had been rendered illegal. I attempted to procure a replacement from Dubai, but it was seized by Customs.

A tragedy!

Those raving union member plumbers infiltrated my bathroom and installed some rubbish water-saving toilet, complete with a worm farm out the back to eat all the poo. How bio-dynamic! How earth-saving! Nyeeeerrrrr!!!

Hah!

Back to Jean-Pierre. Although European and sporting a sixpack and a lovely south-of-France tan, the man was not a communist. In an attempt to secure a conviction, I started feeding him beetroot, strawberries and red kidney beans, hoping that the colour of the food would betray his true communist tendencies. It didn’t work, but he clearly ingested too much fibre. To my glorious peril, unfortunately.

Jean-Pierre sat on my toilet for two days, screaming “Merde!!!” and unleashing a thunderous cacophony of biohazardous waste. Somewhat disturbed, I moved out of my place, and spent the week on John Law’s couch. When I ventured to return, Jean-Pierre had split like the communist I knew he was. However, my toilet was flooded. My bathroom floor was steaming nightmare. There was water everywhere. I vomited out the window and nailed a passing Aborigine.

In conclusion, we need to restore order. Bring back a toilet that actually flushes. SCRUNCHERS, UNITE! Build more dams! Cuscusses, make way!!!!!!!

Toodles!
xx Miranda