It’s official. The Liberal Party is a shambles, a great hulking wreck smashed on the rocks of factionalism and personality conflicts so vicious and ugly they can only be resolved by pistols at dawn at twenty paces.
Turnbull et al are applying thick coats of paste and unrolling the flock wallpaper madly trying to cover over the yawning chasms that now appear in the Liberal Party’s broad church. One false move and the whole edifice will come crashing down.
Rather than dwell on the controversies du jour, be they same sex marriage, the Finkel Report or whatever ghastly turn of events arises to once again divide the Liberal Party on ideological grounds, it would serve our understanding better to go back to the genesis of this conflict and bask in the idiocy of its creators, the political geniuses who rolled a first term prime minister but failed to contemplate what was to be done with him once he had been vanquished.
Full column here.
There’s a future for Turnbull in stand-up, as noted already. His routine needs only polish and there’s any number of candidates already trained for the side-kick support. Trouble is, Turnbull’s ghastly rictus grin is easily surpassed by that of a good-natured seal begging for a sardine.