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SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA - JULY 28: NSW Police officers wearing face masks watch proceedings before a rally on July 28, 2020 in Sydney, Australia. The rally was organised to protest against Aboriginal deaths in custody and in solidarity with the global Black Lives Matter movement. More than 400 Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people have died in custody across Australia since the 1991 Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths In Custody. As the protest is unauthorised by authorities, NSW police have the power to arrest and prosecute attendees for breaking a current COVID-19 health order which bans mass gatherings. (Photo by James D. Morgan/Getty Images)


Never explain, never apologise...

What ho, fellow Plague Worms!


We have gone full Gangnam Style Downunder!


Here we all were working on our beach bodies through winter, and getting ready for Daisy Dukes and bikinis on top for summer…when WHAM! The Plague came back.

Tsk, tsk, tsk…as if it ever went away…

It just mutated some. It’s what viruses do. It will mutate again. And again.


We are now 18 months into this odyssey, and as the civilised parts of the world open up, our clown car is once again knotting the Plague Sack shut.


“Get tested!” they shriek.


“Get vaccinated!” they demand.


“Stay home!” they threaten.


Let’s just unpack this a little, shall we? And remember, as we are unpacking it all, we are 18 months into The Plague. It didn’t just arrive yesterday, OK? Please keep that at the forefront of your mind.


So, if you’re keen to get tested, then you can look forward to waiting in line for many, many hours. There are nowhere near as many test sites as there should be, and Sydney is now crowing about it having three (wow) that are operating 24-hours a day. Three? Really? Why are there not 300 operating 24-hours a day?


Never explain, never apologise. Just make them submit, yes?


Medium Government (that’d be Klinger the Armenian in NSW, Brokeback Dan in Victoristan, and the Polack woman who cannot pronounce her own surname in Queensland) has just recently worked out there are a lot of people who don’t speak or understand English living in Australia.


Who knew?


Anyway, Klinger immediately sent the cops to bash English into as many of these free-roaming, job-stealing Western Sydney no-hopers as they could, while not explaining why these same cops did not need to bash the rich people strolling along Bondi’s lovely beachfront as they were wallowing in Plague.


It’s because them rich people speak English betterer, isn’t it, Klinger?


It doesn’t explain why the nice, English-speaking people of Bondi could take their ease in the sun without being truncheoned or fined, despite clearly understanding the Stay At Home, Cunts! order, while the poor immigrants in Fairfield who didn’t speak English, and thus have no idea what it is they have to do, got to entertain Klinger’s Einsatzgruppen all week.


Never explain? Never apologise? OK. Got it.


The vaccination thing? Well, it’s kind of obvious to even the most tin-foiled among us that Big Government (ie. Scummo from Marketing and his rapey pork-barrelers), has fucked this up on a level a chimpanzee cage could not achieve.


We’re in these rolling lockdowns because we do not have enough vaccine. And we don’t have enough vaccine because Scummo bought the vaccine (Astra Zenica) we’re all scared will clot our blood, and not the vaccine (Pfizer) that will not clot our blood. He gave himself and his mates that one, of course, because that’s what Money Je$us would have wanted.


The rest of us? Who knows? Scummo reckons you should talk to your doctor about which one you should have. Except you can’t have the Pfizer one because we don’t have enough of that for everyone. So have a nice chat to your GP, and then get the vaccine. Or don’t.


But never explain and never apologise, remember?


Now about this Stay At Home, Cunt! stuff…


Stay at home. Simple. Unless you’re an essential service. As to what that precisely is can only be defined by your boss. If your boss tells you selling handbags to painted Karens is “essential”, then best you get your skanky arse to work. If the Einsatzgruppen stop you and demand your papers and your reasons for not being in your Plague Sack, you just tell them you’re “essential”.


But keep in mind that 99.9 per cent of our uniformed cops are stupid. No, really. They are thick as fuck. If they were even remotely bright, they would be detectives. The uniforms are all deep-idiot dumb. They just follow orders. Much like SS members tried to excuse their actions during WWII as “Befehl ist befehl” (Orders are orders) at the Nuremburg trials, our idiots sing from the same song-book.


But of course they will never face any trials. Only internal inquiries. So that’s all good. Never explain, never apologise.


So when you tell them you are “essential”, understand that most of them first heard that word that morning, and they still don’t know what it means. So anything can happen. And probably will. Unless you live in Bondi. In which case, finish your soy chai latte, take your fuck-dog, and make your way home, please.


If you’re in Fairfield, try not to tense up during the In shaAllah truncheoning, OK?


So 18 months into the Plague, we are pretty much where we should be. It has all gone and is going to plan.


The sooner you all realise it has been far more important for Scummo from Marketing to make hundreds of phone-calls offering to personally fellate every single member of every OECD country if they appoint his mate, Matthias Corman, as Head Fuckhole of the OECD, than it was to offer to fellate the head of Pfizer so we can have more vaccine, the better off you’ll sleep.


Never explain, never apologise. But make them obey.

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Boris Mihailovic

Boris is a writer who has contributed to many magazines and websites over the years, edited a couple of those things as well, and written a few books. But his most important contribution is pissing people off. He feels this is his calling in life and something he takes seriously. He also enjoys whiskey, whisky and the way girls dance on tables. And riding motorcycles. He's pretty keen on that, too.

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