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He's dead. June, 2008. I know its old news now but I just wanted to say how much the results of the election pleased me so. I mean more than pleased me. It gave me an unequaled feeling of supreme satisfaction and vindication. Velvet & I were in Florence at the time, just returned from our day trip through Tuscany when we go the news and oh what utter joy. What unbridled ecstasy at the idea of that little bastard John Howard losing not only the Prime Ministership but also his own seat as a member of parliament. The only Prime Minister to lose so spectacularly since Stanley Bruce in 1929. Yes hearing that Little John was boxing up his shit and moving out of Kirrabilly House gave me such a feeling that I can hardly articulate all by myself. Allow me to quote the late great Bill Hicks: “It must have been a secret service plot, to keep me out of the country the night he lost. To protect him, you know. To protect his eardrums from shattering when I shrieked with fuckin laughter! AAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! He’s dead! It’s Dead that Beast is fucking dead! Eleven years of that rampaging fucking elephant beast finally brought to its fucking knees! Yes! You’re dead you fucker,you fuck! You FUCK! You’re DEAD DEAD DEAD! We HATE YOU! HATE YOU! Now do you know it? Now do you feel it? Feel the fucking hate! feel it. You lost. Finally.”
Yes. That just about sums up how I felt that night. |
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