Created: Saturday, 30 September 2006 Written by Chato
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Ask not for whom the wreath is laid...

It may not be wise to be on the cheer-squad
of the wiley, wicked, wreath-laying Weasel,
because the next wreath he lays may be for you!

How long did it take for the crocodile molesting
moron to receive his reward for crawling up
the weasel's arsehole? Not a long time at all!
And how about poor Stan? The media meathead
had his brain self-destruct after a career based
on kicking those who failed to get on the greasy
Howardland gravy-train.

When will the unfortunate soldiers who are being
used as political pawns by J. Weasel Hogturd, be
having him lay wreaths for them?
What about Oz tourists who have been turned into
soft terror targets by Weasel's dirty dealings?

The time has come for all those media whores and
other assorted slime who hitched their wagons to
the Howardland gravy-train, to take a hint, and
unhitch before they too are pushing-up weeds
after another tasteful ceremony by the awful
serial wreath-laying, Kirribilli-killer.