As IA readers know, Bob Ellis predicted the axing of Abbott before the end of his first term. Last Sunday, he shortened the odds by correctly predicting Monday as D-Day. Now, after Scomo's controversial interview with Ray Hadley, Bob's crystal ball shows Morrison's head in a noose before the weekend is out.
I PREDICTED last Sunday night that Abbott would fall on Monday morning or Monday night. I was right, as I was when I said in 2009 that Abbott, not Hockey, would be made leader by “two votes, one of them disputed”.
I’m not that sure of what will occur in Canning, a faraway country of which I know little.
What I am now sure of, however, is Morrison’s hectic, fraudulent mediocrity.
He showed it on Ray Hadley yesterday morning. Caught out in five lies, he refused to swear on the Bible that he had not spoken to his faction, or to Turnbull, about how his faction would vote, and how he would vote, when he held and controlled the numbers to decide who would be Prime Minister. Then he said he would swear on the Bible, and Hadley closed down the interview.
He answers too rapidly, fudges too readily, and, like an army sarmajor, bullies and bellows and insults, and makes on the hop fool decisions that cannot be justified.
He’s a people smuggler. He’s a pirate. And under most international law a kidnapper and facilitator of child abuse. He cyberbullied two young men into burning themselves to death. He organized the escape of eleven murderers, those that killed Reza Barati, from arrest and trial and imprisonment, or he looked the other way while bureaucrats beneath him did so. And, when asked about these things, he imagines he only has to shout and rail and deny everything to escape what will come to him eventually, probably, years in gaol.
Pack your bags Mr Morrison ... pic.twitter.com/RS2qtYKQtj— Barry Tucker (@btckr) July 3, 2014
It is possible he will not be Treasurer now, after the Hadley hullabaloo and continuing fallout, and the agitated mendacity he displayed while it was occurring. But if he is, he will find his tactless pugnacity won’t help him when the figures are added up and found wanting.
He will find the deficit going up, every week, and the Menzies-era pensioners ropeable at the money which, year by year, he is proposing to thieve from them. He will find his wait-a-month-for-the-dole plan unpopular. He will discover that his Sunday habit of speaking in tongues will brand him as a loon in some opinions. He will find aggression does not always prevail, and it will not work to call “an on-water matter” the trade balance figures, or the plummeting price of iron.
He was called “a great communicator” and an “able negotiator”, but this was in comparison to, say, Tony Abbott, Campbell Newman, David Johnston, Bronwyn Bishop. Compared with, say, Bob Hawke or Bob Carr or Bob Brown or Mike Baird or Richard di Natale or Tony Windsor, he is hopeless.
And, if he survives this weekend, he will dwindle quickly, and end up, like Jack Nicolson in The Witches of Eastwick, as a puddle of plasticine, and rarely be thought of again.
Like Tony Abbott, half-forgotten already. And Eric Abetz. And Kevin Andrews. And Cory Bernardi.
And so it goes.
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