Letter writer John Oldfield sent this to The Australian today:

Younger voters are politically disengaged, and so simply don’t see the need for a change. Older voters are becoming jaded with Howard but still expect him to win. This attitude is curiously at odds with the opinion polls but is probably more telling.

In the end, the older voters will, in the majority, most probably fall back on their natural conservatism and opt for the safety of Howard’s middle-class welfare. These are the voters who will gift Howard his fifth election win.

I hope he's wrong about the younger voters, but I see no evidence of it. Voters in their twenties barely know who John Howard is, let alone Kevin Rudd. They never watch the news, so they have not gagged repeatedly at the little twat's repulsive demeanour over the years. Living with their parents, who are subsidising their incomes while they live the lifestyle people on their own used to, they will likely just shuffle into the voting booth and wanly tick the one who hasn't interfered all that much with the bubble they live in. Leave us not forget that Howard is a master hypnotist.

As to the older voters, he's probably right there, too. Australia is not known as a nation of sheep for nothing. Still, by the time of the election, a combination of the continuing spotlight on John Howard's trademark deviousness and his government's relentless incompetence by an apparently invincible Kevin Rudd may encourage them to lash out with a timid bit of bravery, enough to restore Australia's reputation.

And then there is Catherine Deveny, my kind of woman. Let's put fences around the suburbs where petrol-heads live, published in The Age today, is a slightly humourous serve on the scum who stand for everything John Howard does. Here are some juicy paragraphs:

How about that Grand Prix, eh? One look at the racing fans is all it takes for me to realise that some suburbs should have fences around them. Knuckle-dragging petrol-heads, anorexic bottle blondes marinated in fake tan and middle-aged blokes with man boobs and pimples on their arses paying exorbitant money to watch cars go fast. What a disgrace. It's no wonder I drink.

I'm sure the parents of terminally ill children suffering rare diseases that there is no funding for researching will take comfort in the fact that the State Government has probably spent $30 million on loud, polluting cars while their child dies. They'll be at peace knowing that Bernie Ecclestone has pocketed a $20 million licensing fee. There goes my chance of ever being a grid girl.

Don't start banging on about all the revenue that it supposedly (and I stress the word supposedly) creates. You could get a far better long-term return by putting that money into science, education or health.

Why is it that many of the flag wavers who are the keenest for these events so they can "show off" to bring tourists into our town are the ones that least want to share it. If you need to have a Grand Prix looting, marauding and corroding our town to feel "proud", please kill yourself at your earliest possible convenience. And take your "I'm Another Australian Against Further Immigration" T-shirt with you.

"Please kill yourself at your earliest possible convenience." I love that. A few years back I got into a slanging match with a Liberal voter at the local mall. As usual, it was like talking to an alien species. For my part, I concluded thusly: "Do the human race a favour by going home and committing suicide." In fact, I wish I had a tee shirt that read: "If you support John Howard do Oz a favour and commit suicide."

Deveny goes on to describe her job, as the host for the Sydney Road Bakery Tours, in which she takes people from Iraqi to Turkish to Lebanese eating establishments to sample their fare and their hospitality. I haven't been to Sydney Road in years, but I'm pencilling it in pronto.

Deveny concludes her article with another serve, this one at the arseholes who drive Toorak Tractors. I think we all agree they are a menace to everyone.

Unless you need to tow a horse float or you are the Bush Tucker man, you don't need a 4WD. When I walk along High Street, Malvern, and see rows of four-wheel-drives that have spent even less time in the bush than Telstra, I want to pull out my key and scratch into their pristine duco BUY A SMALLER CAR YOU GREEDY SELFISH ---- Or ride a bike and save on the lipo.

Amen, sister!

-- Olney Garkle