MirandaDevine.com

Un-Australian nancy-boys pledging support to Ms Devine

Being an intellectual person who enjoys keeping up with all things intellectual, I just finished reading The Kite Runner. An excellent book. Whoever the fellow was that picked the pen name “Khaled Hosseini” to author this book obviously has a sense of irony that is almost as delicious as Daniel Craig’s loins. No dirty, halal-chowing, towel-headed Afghan with a name like Khaled Hosseini could ever write as fluently as that. Or perhaps Mr Hosseini is simply the translator. I am looking for a good translator. When I release my latest seminal tome: “Muslims: Middle Australia’s Real Mortgage”, I expect to have it translated into 57 languages and published everywhere.

In other news, for the last week I have been championing the cause of chardonnay bars in Sydney. Sydney needs more of these institutions!

As a result, I have been using my tremendous wit and political clout to lampoon that heinous, blue-singletted bograt troglodyte from the Australian Hotels Association, John Thorpe. Fancy telling me where Sydney can and can’t drink. John Thorpe and Peter Garrett should really get married. A hairy, authoritarian woodchopper and a bald, saggy, greenie, pansy rockstar.

I’m not quite sure why I’m advocating same-sex marriage at this time, but this is my column. Identity crises and random self-contradiction are my prerogative.

But WHY am I marching for change in the Sydney pub scene, you ask? An excellent question, Middle Australians. After all, everybody knows that hole-in-the-wall chardonnay bars are little more than fortresses for leftist backslapping, gender-bending vegan cyclist bananabenders and Asian hermaphrodites. Everybody knows that hole-in-the-wall chardonnay bars are little more than orgies for civil rights barristers on their lunch breaks.

More than anything, though, everyone knows that hole in the wall chardonnay bars are far too expensive for ordinary, mortgage-paying, Middle Australians.

However, I, Miranda Esmerelda Diamond Gloriosa Agapantha Devine, have found a way around this.

The second I started ruffling the trollish John Thorpe’s feathers, I have become quite the first lady of the ‘chic’ lefty bar scene in vegan Sydney. I walked past one of those dreadful organic stores in Darlinghurst the other day, and despite the fact that I was wearing my orange latex biochemical suit (Darlinghurst is full of AIDS, one can never be too careful), a friendly homosexual offered me a free carrot and celery smoothie. I took it, somewhat bemused, and tried to avoid catching the clap while drinking it.

I thought the smoothie would be the last of the vegan gravy train, but it wasn’t. Lesbians and students mobbed me all afternoon, offering me free drinks. A chardonnay bar on Oxford Street had a sign out the front: “Miranda Devine, you’re so fine, you can drink free anytime”. And drink I did. I stumbled home at 4am, and awoke with a clobbering headache.

And I didn’t pay a single silver cent for it.

For the last week, my bank account has runneth over, and my stomach hath never been so full of tofu and chardonnay.

All of the great social activists were loathed before they were loved. I am no different. I have clearly struck a chord with the heaving mass of leftist rubble, the grime beneath Middle Australia’s toes. And I am scoring plenty of free booze for my efforts. Remember, there is no better way to infiltrate the enemy than to party with them. The leftists and communists now think I am one of them. Hah! Never! Leftist Inner-City Sydney is Troy, and I am the glorious wooden horse, stealthily rolling in for battle! Soon Oxford Street will be ours!!! Kings Cross will be the next HomeWorld site!

Then we shall dam Redfern and the prophecy will be complete!
Uglúk u bagronk sha pushdug Saruman-glob búbhosh skai!!!!!!!!!

Toodles!
xx Miranda