As I write this, your Bendigo correspondant, Jooooolia is in the process of writing her non non defeatist speech; Tony is in the process of writing his non non acceptance speech; the Greens are in the process of claiming victory from defeat; and the Australian Sex Party are engaging in the orgy to end all orgies and don't even realise counting has commenced.
Meanwhile, back in the back of Australia.
Kevin has almost started to cry. It's not enough that his beloved coal miners have been ousted back home by Cameron's new Thatcherism, but also that now The Mad Monk, and let's face it, Tony Abbott is about as hard to elect as rubbing one out to the image of Kevin07 and Terese Rein in the heights of a fit of mad panic when they realise they are naked in the hog fat together without a shoehorn to rub between Andrew's giant pectoral nobblies, wow that was as long a parenthetic diversion within the one phrase as one could manage can you tell that it involves something delivered in alfoil?
Back to reality. Or not.
The girls have threatened some photographs. Sadly, these are not photographs of the first episode of WWYRF? (between Maxine McKewn and Joooooooolia Gillard - the results of which were a unanimously successfulated combubstulation) but rather of all of us, here in Bendimigo, and nouwnce the larftersishmush has commencedement.
Okay, now we wait. For girls. with photomagraphs. And hencwithforth, we wait. Lewis is sending gay messages to Justin Beiber, who just happens to be breathing beiberishness over my shoulder, whilst he just beibers.. relentlessly. lewis, go away. no body likes you lewis, you fag drummer. What's the difference between Lewis, and a drum machine? I only have to punch the information into a drum machine once.
We need photos. So come on ladies. Shake it. Shake it. Shake it like a polaroid picture. Oh, looks like the n00bs can't work out how to use their iPn00bs. Oh, Andrew wants iBn00bs. Harry says he can shake his iBn00bs. True story, bru.
Paully will get off on Harry's iMaBn00bs. Jack appears to have caught a bad case of teh ghey. doctor, doctor, give me the bewbs... he's got a ghey case of loving andrew who just left the room so now we can talk about him.
How about Andrew's ghey? Is it getting worse? How does one measure such ghey? Well, said one, in terms of Andrewness. How ghey is Andrewnessness? Well, that depends. Let me tell you a story. It all began in the beginning. where all goods stories begin. Except for that other quite good story, which began somewhere in the middle and later got back the start at some time following that bit.
So The Mull Queen tried to squeeze a gallon of hope through a microcosim of despair. He was gone for some time. Perhaps he was trying to find the photographs of Destiny's Child he had hidden amongst the iBooty of iPassion.
Meanwhilest, there is sitllington worthless emongstenough of Jack's Rabbit of harelingstingmongst binny. Fertheringstinktivity forwerthwithidstnessness, ha he he, there mungst beingstmesstmessed enuffidmunstmess portractindinunciadoumoust, thering boungst amunulmentist borg huffably.
no photomogriphistamundst. Gerls. Om.