Craig "Shaggy" Thomson

The on-going brouhaha involving Labor MP, Craig Thomson, his credit cards and his not-so-cheap hookers reminds me of Shaggy, the one-time musician rapper person, who rose to fame on the back of hits like It Wasn't Me, a charming ditty about randy musicians and loose groupies.  So profound, those rappers.

Douchebag Thomson told Federal Parliament last week that he would be making a full statement about the allegations of impropriety that have been levelled at him by his former employer, the Health Services Union (HSU), in the coming weeks, after the Opposition called him scankypants and other parliamentary insults of equal vigour.  In the red-light corner is Thomson and his trashy hoes, and in the blue corner is everyone else.

I tell you, this explanation better be good.  But whatever he professes to be the truth about his seedy past, he has already told us that "it wasn't me".  Oh, well that clears up everything then.  I give the guy some credit for lying in the face of absurdity.  Personally I think Thomson is nowhere near as creepy as Mr Skankypants himself, Peter Slipper, but you say potato, I say potahto.

The allegations against Thomson include using his union credit cards for facilitating acts of prostitution - which sounds far less sleazy than it actually is, using the cards for some type of ponzi scheme and for funding his own election campaign.

Caught you dialling the hookers (It wasn't me)
Through your work credit card (It wasn't me)
And your other work credit card (It wasn't me)

I can't decide if people like Thomson should never be allowed to have a Mastercard, or if they should be given 500 of the darn things and let them make their own skanky king-size futons and be made to lie in them. I blame the banks. Clearly Thomson is a victim of their bullying tactics.  It's so blindingly obvious that this is the problem.

Those little pieces of plastic ruin lives, particularly if you are a low-life, union head moron, or anyone and everyone who thinks it's a good idea to whinge to Today Tonight about personal credit debt and other things that are their own stupid fault.

Who knows, maybe there is an entirely acceptable explanation for why Thomson was caught red-handed with his hand in the skanky jar.  Perhaps his wife works at the brothel and he was just calling her at the office to ask if he should pick up some pizza, a couple of tarts and a few STDs on the way home.  I mean, we don't know.  Stay classy Craig.

Current affairs ADHD

What do you get when you cross Westminster Abbey, Bieber's six flying eggs and a bunch of Navy SEALs? Current affairs ADHD, that’s what. In the past week, the media have had me hooked on their inane sensationalistic news cycle; that being the royal wedding brouhaha, Justin Bieber's right royal egging, and the death of a loathed serial killer.

First there was P-Willy and Kate. Enough said. But also Harry, and Chelsea, and Kate's mum and dad, and the yellow Q, and Fergie's two wicked witches, and Bea's head decoration, and Pippa's bum, and Tara's nose, and Q's snub of Camilla, and the homeless-looking bishop, and Beck's OBE, and Posh's hair, shoes, garbage bag dress, baby bump, lack of baby bump, forehead hat, face, nose, mouth, eye makeup, pouting, smiling, frowning, pouting, etc etc, and the various media-created afflictions and bad wedding attire decisions of other random aristocrats and lowly-ranked celebrities I've never heard of.  Thank heavens the Navy SEALs struck bin Laden when they did or we'd still be putting up with the media's angst over the madhatter's man-made disasters.  

Bin Laden's days of hooning around the streets of Pakistan on the back of an ox and lapping it up in the glamourous mountains and cavernous rabbit warrens of the renowned tourist mecca of Afghanistan came to a dramatic end on the weekend when he was killed by a bunch of Navy SEALs.  It's always best for this type of military operation to remain covert, if for no other reason that whenever civilians (see: the media) get involved they always RUIN EVERYTHING.  Remember when the international media compromised Prince Harry's security in Afghanistan?  Dumb as dog shit.

Plus, the U.S. TV stations would have tried to get in on the action - 20 everyday Americans compete for the chance to blow out the brains of a terrorist...  Yes, that's a little uncalled for - but so was Bali, New York, London and about 500 other attacks he scripted.  True to form, bin Laden's last moments in his quasi-luxurious, cowdung loveshack involved grabbing one of his wives to shield him from the inevitable bullet in the head. Oh well, he's dead now. 

Trust the Pakistanis to be housing mass serial killers.  No surprises there.  Pakistan has been the heart of modern terrorism ever since bin Laden rolled into town.  But there's no time to rest, there are plenty more exploding fruitloops in bin Laden's neck of the woods.  So get to it America.  And it would be tops if you could please put the next one on YouTube.   

What's to say about the itty bitty Biebernator?  He performed his bouncy little routine in Australia the other night and someone egged him.  The next night he brought the "hero" bully-fighter (whose attack on his tormenter last month went viral) onto the stage to yell out a few words of youthful inspirational - that being his famous (apparently) tagline NEVER SAY NEVER! - to the terrifiyingly enthusiastic Bieber teenyboppers.  I would have preferred the Biebs to moonwalk out to the stage and tell the audience about his money, fame and bright future, and how they would never ever come close to such good fortune.  NEVER EVER EVER!!!!