MirandaDevine.com

Smug git.

Dear readers, I return from the Bahamas to bring you a tale of despair, decreptitude and dereliction.

During my brief absence, the nation has descended into obloquy. I deem that the responsible parties shall be named and shamed: Harbhajan Singh; Peter Roebuck; Kevin Rudd MP and His Excellency Philip Michael Jeffrey AC, CVO, MC. The quadrumvirate of bungsnatchery have yet again teamed up to pile mound after mound of suppurative dreck over the good citizens of Middle Australia.

Cricket Australia had the good decency to invite the Indians over for a nice game of cricket and (possibly) a hot cup of tea. The least we could expect is for the little brown bastards to be polite, keep to themselves and keep their vindaloo sauce confined to the post-match celebrations. However, all they can think to do is dish out verbal abuse to Andrew Symonds - a Queenslander, but nevertheless a decent Australian.

And then, to make matters worse, instead of immediately declaring war on India, our PM goes and publicly chastises the Australians for their bad behaviour, most likely seeking to lay blame for the incident squarely on our dearly departed John Howard. The G-G it seems has also been paid off to get in on the Aussie-bashing, a travesty in itself since he was appointed by the little master (John, not Sachin) himself.

And speaking of blame shifting, we have now experienced, on average, six rate rises per year since the Labor government was elected! (I didn’t study mathematics at university for nothing.) And yet Mr Rudd is still trying to blame the greatest PM in living history for the current shambolic state of the economy. The day before the election, the nation’s plasma tellys were bright and burning, and yet cagey Kev will have you believe that the Liberal party built some kind of time bomb into the economy, set to explode as soon as they toppled. Preposterous!

It seems that the new PM has an organ to grind, and he’s not going to stop until he has brainwashed the whole of Middle Australia into selling their Toyota Monstrosities and sending all their money over to fund the Harbhajan Sledging Academy. The worst part is that he has the perennial prevaricator Paul “Pantywaist” Keating on his side, and the Glorious Coalition of Business-Lunch Journalists has had its numbers decimated by the death of our beloved leader and founder, Padraic McGuinness.

My dear readers, I fear that 2008 will be a year of great conflict and strife. The very essences of good and evil will fight an epic battle in our newspaper columns, and I am glad to have you all of the side of the eventual victors. We cannot allow the chattering classes to turn the tide of public opinion, plunging Sydney straight back into the horrors of the 80s. We must stand united, side by side, or preferably seated opposite one another in a trendy cafe sipping chardonnay.

Do not fear, my dear readers, for you will not have to make this arduous journey alone. I, Miranda Gloriosa Esmerelda Agapanthus Diamond Devine, have returned to shine the light, as only I can. It may be the year of the rat, but the rats currently residing in the Lodge will never defeat Middle Australia. Just as Menzies had eight years in the wilderness before his triumphant second term, Howard shall rise from the ashes. Johnny 2010!