One Down, Seven To Go

It's hard to resist a gag about galloping for the door with a sack of super, so I won't; WA Premier Geoff Gallop has resigned a quarter of the way through his second term, citing depression as the reason for his early retirement.

I'd be pretty depressed when I finally twigged what an utterley useless twat I was, and how I was surrounded by slack-jawed, venal dingbats, malfeasant carpetbaggers and outright criminal scum, were I in his position.

Far be it from me to cast aspersions about mental illness- some of my best mates are crazier than bedbugs; I find an early lunch a little suspect when it involves someone mixed up with WA Labor, an organisation that has seen one of its last Premiers slotted, another who should have been, the fraudulent fiasco of WA Inc and close associations with tycoons who have an immediate onset of Alzheimers when facing the Federal Court.

Perhaps Geoff really is depressed- perhaps he's looked back on his life, and realised he's been sponging off the toil of other industrious citizens for his entire life, firstly as a tenured academic, then as a party hack (much unlike his predecessor, who has shown no such remorse for her shameless siphoning of other poor bastards' ackers); surely there is somewhere a politician with a guilty conscience.

When you've finished laughing at that one, there is at least one silver lining to this gathering of gloom- WA now has a Premier Ripper.

Oh to be a headline editor at the West Australian.

(Cross-posted at The Daily Diatribe).