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About this blog:
This is the place for the real Mark Latham; the Mark Latham who toiled his clacker off in grinding poverty to become dux of his school; the Mark Latham who built his own ladder of opportunity, then scaled it himself with buggerall help from anybody else (er, except full-on legend and mentor Gough Whitlam - Dad, I love ya!); the Mark Latham who is mad as hell, and isn't gonna take it anymore - particularly from the Yanks and their pop-cultural, celluloid imperialism!
So, to all my readers from all over the joint: If you want to know the watered-down, official, media-friendly "Latham Lite" then watch me on the box, read about me in the press, go to the ALP website, etc. But if you want to know what I'm really thinking and feeling then keep coming back here, alright?
And please give a few bob if you can spare it. (It's for the ducks, not me.)
Chicks are forever hurling themselves at me (did you know Rachel Ward has a shrine to me in her bedroom?). But if you're not so lucky with the opposite sex, you might want to have a squizz at the sites below. For every sign-up, an orphaned duck finds a new home.
Here are some other sites you might want to have a perve at:
Lest any Tory bastard say that because I'm a socialist I'm entirely against earning a few extra bob, here's a link to the world's largest online classified ad service.
Below is a Seppo outfit. (But it's not bad, apparently.)
Click here to buy posters!
(You never know. They might even have one of me!)
Are you majorly shat off about something? Chockas with existential angst? Or do you just want to talk to someone you know cares big time? Then send your "Dear Mark" letter to: arselicker-kicker at loveable.com (Donations are not mandatory, but they are appreciated.)
 Web Hosting & Domain Registration |
Remember that duck guy I was telling you about? Yeah, well, he's asked me to put a list of traffic exchanges up on my blog.
The bloke's a bit of a dipstick, but considering all the good work he's done for my beaky brothers, I said yes.
Here they are:
Traffic Swarm
Web Biz Insider
Clicks Matrix
Traffic Project
Clickin' Fingers
Pro Hits Plus
Stock Traffic
Funny Farm Traffic
Hit Safari
Traffic Roundup
Weblog Directory - Directory of blogs from all around the world.
Click here to make money doing online surveys!
| This gig sucks! |
| 10.29.04 (7:00 pm) [edit] |
|
Fair dinkum, this gig just gets worse and worse. Like, after we lost the election there was all that turmoil within the party. Heaps of scapegoating, angst-ridden bloody post-morteming, recriminations etc. That continues of course. There's also shitloads of sniping from other quarters. Like the union movement. Now, they're even more paranoid than usual. Like, here's Greg Combet telling us not to "suck-up" to big business. Greg, mate. I don't suck-up to anybody - least of all bloody Tory suits. (And I'd just like to say to all the non-union readers out there, I don't suck-up to the ACTU either. They can go fuck themselves.) Mate, we are a party that stands for something. We can make it on our own! PS: Just on the subject of Combet: He's a skinny prick isn't he? Just like so many Stalinist blokes. In fact, they're as weedy as their chicks are chunky. And the trend goes back yonks. Like, Lenin was also a weed. Even Trotsky had to run around the shower to get wet. (Although, he would have weighed a bit more with that bloody ice-axe in his bonce, eh?) Still, this strange law holds in most cases. Why is that? Any suggestions people? |
| The Butler did it - again |
| 10.28.04 (5:07 pm) [edit] |
|
Here we go. Ol' Fatfuck Butler is still getting up people's nostrils even though he left his gig as Tassie's GG bloody months back. Like, the Libs down there are arcing up about his lavish parties in which his high profile guests got to chow down on posh nosh. Even cited yours truly as one of the guilty gluttons. Yeah, well, though Fatfuck is not one of my favourite people, I'd just like to lob a word or two in his defense: I would hardly describe the party he gave for me as lavish, since it certainly didn't cater to my needs. I mean, they didn't even have chip sangers! There was heaps of caviar and rollmops and canapes and shit. But who in his right mind would eat that stuff? Ugh. Mate, it nearly made me barf on the spot. |
| Chimp features |
| 10.27.04 (7:26 pm) [edit] |
|
Although I am a bit of a Renaissance bloke, I'm not big on anthropology. Leave it to pipe-smoking boffins with silly bow-ties to do all that. But I've just read something that has prompted me to change this habit and offer a bit of conjecture about the subject. Like, you know this prehistoric pygmy they've found in Flores? "Hobbit", they call him. Don't you reckon he looks just like John Howard? I mean, steal a squizz at the picture. If you shaved the little bugger's head and jaw, he'd be a dead ringer for Bonsai, wouldn't he? If I met him outside a radio station, I'd have to get even closer in to get shake his hand - mainly cause he might try to spear me! This could tell us heaps about John Howard's family tree. (Namely that his family lived in a fucking tree.) This makes a creepy kind of sense, you know. I've always thought that my nemesis was "not one of us". I used to think maybe he was from outer space and had lobbed here to give us all the shits. But this theory is fuckwads more plausible. So, what name do we give to this sapienic sub-species as small in spirit as he is in stature? Here's one: Australopatheticus. Apposite or what? |
| The secret of politics |
| 10.22.04 (11:42 pm) [edit] |
|
I'm still feeling pretty shithouse. But there are a few things to be cheerful about. Like, I think I have just found a top new approach to fighting the Tories. See, yesterday when everyone was arcing up big time about my disastrous dalliance with ol' Brown-nose, I said in my defence that it was just the timing of the policy that was fucked - not the actual gist of it. I kind of just made it up on the spot to defend myself, but I reckon I lucked in to something pretty bloody powerful. And Gut reckoned it was a bonzer idea. As you know, I always listen to him. Like, timing is crucial in shitloads of things isn't it? Take my jokes. Please, take my jokes! Get it? How clever was that? Jeez I'm a funny cunt. Anyway, what I mean is, I can crank out surefire ball-tearers (remember my Darth Vadar quip, the Kerry-Anne horseshit bon-mot - and who could forget "fuck nose"?). All big-time pissers, no doubt about it. But they only kick major freckle in situ if you use the right timing. And winning government is the same isn't it? Like, in the same way you go from lead-up to punchline, you go from opposition to government. Yeah, timing... Timing, that's the key. Although there is one little hole in the theory: Bonsai keeps winning. And he couldn't make a bloody kookaburra laugh. How the hell does he do it? Fuck nose. |
| It's a shit-fight |
| 10.22.04 (8:16 am) [edit] |
|
Mate, what a week. I am utterly stonkered I can assure you. You know what really sucks the big one about losing? The way everyone starts blaming everyone else. And then eventually me. You know what I'm like. I'll do anything for my mates. And my Labor colleagues are certainly that. (Well, they fucking were.) I tried to give everyone a guernsey; keep them all happy. But that wasn't good enough. They wanted blood. And still do. Much as I hate having to admit it, one of Rupert's roosters actually calls it as it is: The atmosphere in the losing Labor caucus is poisonous. Latham is fighting to maintain his authority and is being criticised and undermined from within. If anything, it's worse. I know I've put on a brave face for the media. But I'm really shitting myself. To be honest, I don't know if I can hang on to to the gig. And if I do, things might get even more buggerised than they are now. It's like they're all at the end of their collective tether, about to go into fucking meltdown. We might just be the next Democrats if things keep going like this. And I might just be the next Natasha. I feel like sooking up. But I'm so fucked, I can't even crank out a tear. Oh well, I know I'll have one thing to look forward to: Janine's duck stories. I'll be asking for plenty of those tonight, and over the weekend, that's for sure. |
| "Investment" |
| 10.16.04 (5:26 am) [edit] |
|
Kim Beazley's a top bloke and everything. And I'm not worried that he'll try to usurp me as Leader. (Although backbenchers do sometimes become back-stabbers, this isn't a problem in the case of Big Kim. He's such a porkily unfit bastard that if he even started sharpening a knife, you'd hear all the huffing and puffing a bloody mile away!) Still, he has got me a tad flustered wih one of his latest comments: "The second thing is, the Labor Party has just spent a considerable amount of money introducing Mark to the Australian people and the Labor Party will want to realise on its investment." Fuck, now I'm an "investment". That's a bit of a bloody Arselickian attitude don't you reckon? Next he'll start describing my recent loss in fiscal terms. Like, saying I have a "low interest rate" with the electorate. Bloody hell. As if copping such a bastard loss wasn't bad enough! Thanks a shitload Kim. Hey, here's a suggestion, mate: Instead of fucking off to the backbench, why not just lob with the Liberals? Sounds like you've adopted their way of thinking anyway. I tell you, with friends like this who needs, er, friends... or something. |
| Chicks? |
| 10.13.04 (10:09 pm) [edit] |
|
Hey, remember my theory about chick-chunkiness and its correlation to socialist zeal? Well here's another example: Joan Kirner. She's pretty hefty, isn't she? And she's got this new communistic quota intitiative. Well, it's an old one, but she's brushed it off and wheeled it out again. Like, in the past, I used to roll my eyes whenever I heard this shit. But now I reckon probably anything's worth a shot. Perhaps I should just make the whole party sheilas (except me of course)? Maybe then we'd get a whole shitload of new votes? Although, I'd prefer it if they were a tad more, well, you know slim and spunky. Hey, maybe we could recruit those actress sheilas who want to play hide the sausage with me! You know, Rachel Ward, Toni Collette, Cate Blanchett... Getting celebs on side is a tried and true tactic. We did it with Peter Garrett. And he was about the only prick who actually kept the seat for us. So, why not these spunkrats? I'd love to parachute them into my bonzer party - particularly if I can stand underneath and cop a good long perve as they land. Mate! What a coup that would be? And I'd get to work with them every day. BONUS. (Which, hopefully, is exactly what they'll be saying to me!) |
| Arcing up again |
| 10.11.04 (2:44 am) [edit] |
|
Fair dinkum, after what happened on the weekend I thought I'd be out of puff for bloody ages. But fuck me, I'm back on top of things already! Yep, I'm looking forward to 2007, dreaming up still more bonzer policies to wipe the smirk off PM Champagne Charlie's ugly mug. Still, I will have to cope with a shitload of pointless post morteming from my peers. Like, here's one of those twelve roosters describing the loss as a plane crash on the way to Frogsville: On the day Latham won the leadership, a Beazley voter said Labor had signed up to a mystery flight. "Who knows where we'll end up," he said. "We could finish in Paris or ditch in Botany Bay." And here's former staffer Michael Costello, who blames yours truly, and calls the result a "train wreck". Fuck, why are these guys thinking about the past? And why such grandiose mass transit analogies? Me? I always prefer to look to the future. Which is why I see it this way: I was riding my pushy up a big bastard hill, and the Arselicker punctured my tyre with his interest rates porky. Simple. I'll just whop on a patch, pump the bugger up and get peddling again! So, party members, are you gonna spend all your time breast-beating, navel-gazing and sphincter-squizzing? Or are you gonna lob at the bike shop, get your own bloody Malvern Star and follow me up the hill? It's your call you know... |
| Undeterred |
| 10.10.04 (5:46 am) [edit] |
|
Okay. Fair enough. Bonsai basically decked me. But I'm past even arcing up about it now. To be honest I feel like shit cooled down - knackered, hungover, and basically fucking flummoxed as. So I'm going to have a bit of a rest. Just take it easy, enjoy my time with Janine and the sprogs. Recharge my batteries. And I'm not worried. See, I've still got a whole shitload of time up my sleeve. Also, Dad lost the gig at his first attempt, so in a way I'm just following in the footsteps of the Great Man, aren't I? I remember yonks back when I was a sprog in Green Valley, and I was watching that full-on footage of the bastard dismissal. Of course, those images are etched into the memory of just about every citizen of this bonzer country. But they weren't just etched into mine - they were etched, seared, and then fucking branded. Yep, as my Dad (to be) cranked out those ball-tearingly, myth-makingly bonzer lines, "Well may we say 'God save the Queen' because nothing will save the Governor General!" I was thinking: "What. A. Fucking. LEGEND... One day I'll be just like Him. One day I'll be up there doing that!" So, nothing's changed, really. I'm right on course. So I say to all the toffs and Tories: enjoy your gloating while you can. I'm down, but not out. You haven't seen the last of me. |
| Incredible! |
| 10.06.04 (10:52 pm) [edit] |
|
Mate, I can't believe this... I just got a call. "Not unusual," I hear you say. Yeah, but guess who it was from? The Arselicker. And it was on my mobile. This bastard is just so hanging out to keep his gig, it's fucking frightening. I might as well just give up... |
| Ivan other problem... |
| 10.06.04 (10:31 pm) [edit] |
|
... that I fucking-well forgot about! Mate, I should have listened to my subconscious and burned the bastard when I had the chance. But I didn't... Fuck! Like, at the time, I thought it best to use my bonzerly Buddhistical approach - you know, the Middle Way. So I didn't endorse what he said, but I didn't condemn him either. But now the Arselicker has hauled the dopey cunt out to get a bit more mileage. Sly prick. So what can I do? If I do get rid of him, then I'll look like I'm capitulating to Bonsai. If I do nothing, he'll keep at it... I'm stumped. Any ideas, people? |
| The Styx stinks |
| 10.06.04 (10:09 pm) [edit] |
|
Mate, it's just getting worse and bloody worse! Not only have the quack unions gone all dark on me; now the forestry ones have too. Bloody Bonsai's inveigled them into a dirty deal and they're on his side now. Fuck, who would have expected this? Not only that, but Dick Adams and Paul Lennon are arcing up about me too. There must be some kind of termite-esque conspiracy going on... Mate, that's the last time I'm lobbing in Tassie to help the forests. There are so many white ants in my neck of the woods, I'd cause a major infestation wouldn't I? They'd destroy the joint quicker than a thousand bloody chainsaws, that's for sure. Remember that poor prick Syphilis I mentioned a few posts back? Well, I'm feeling even more of a rapport with that long-suffering bastard than usual - I can assure you. Yep, I'm feeling very syphilitic. Very syphilitic indeed. |
| Brown in the dumps |
| 10.05.04 (8:05 pm) [edit] |
|
Fair dinkum, I'm not feeling too crash-hot at this point in time. The polls are all favouring the Arselicker, and quite frankly I'm bloody knackered from all this campaigning. Also, people who I thought were allies are now white-anting us, big time. Like the AMA. Mate, these roosters don't know what's good for them. They should have a Bex and a good lie down... on fucking Parramatta Road, that is! And as we get into the home stretch, the rhetoric is getting bloody hysterical - from all sides (except mine of course). Like, cop an optic of this purple prose from Brown the greenie: "With nine out of 10 Australian voters opposed to the destruction of Tasmania's iconic forests and wildlife, log trucks will be seen as forest hearses," Senator Brown said in a statement. Mate, that's almost bloody psychedelic, that is. And I'm supposed to be the bloke with all the colourful language? I'm starting to regret that forests promise, too. Looks like it might have backfired, big time. I tell you, if it turns out that cozying up to the Greens has cost me the election... well, there'll be hell to pay. Speaking of hearses: Ol' Brown-nose may just find himself in a real one. And there might just be one of my "logs" in there, too. |