Will someone find a brick wall in a hurry, tie me to a post in front of it and shoot me dead!
For surely capital punishment is the only fair penalty I can think of for the highly treasonable thoughts that overwhelmed me in the dead of night just a few wee hours ago.
I’d snuck down to the tele at 1.15am to see how the Netball World Cup final between Australia and New Zealand was shaping up and watched half of the third quarter before heading back up to bed.
I told the missus the Silver Ferns were six goals up and monstering us all over the court and apart from that, quite frankly, I hoped they would go on to win.
I know. I know. Disgusting. But what drove me to hope for such an unpatriotic outcome? As I explained to the better half before she dozed back off, something she does quite easily whenever I’m talking to her: “I’m basing my thoughts on which country’s prime minister deserves the victory more.”
Would I root for New Zealand’s Jacinda Ardern? The absolutely lovely, decent, kind and intelligent leader of Australia’s seventh state across the dutch? The leader whose image stirs such lovely emotions in me, can bring me to tears of respect, especially since the Christchurch tragedies.
Or Scott Morrison, the man who instinctively brings on in me the sour tastes of bile and vomit, not necessarily in that order. The national leader who is everything Ardern is not: an incredibly average, self-centred, worker-hating, money-hungry, bible-bashing bastard who will vilify anyone who gets in his way and who somehow got re-elected a few months back on a farrago of fibs, the likes of which we’ve never seen before, and a $60 million ad-spend character assassination of Bill Shorten from Clive Palmer?
It wasn’t that hard a decision to make when you think about it. Especially when the Kiwis were robbed of World Cup cricket glory by those cheating Poms and that “bat of God” incident so it really was their turn for some good sporting news.
But, yes, okay. Fair enough. I’m well ahead of you. You want to know who I’m going to back in the upcoming men’s cricket Ashes that start on August 1.
I appreciate residents of both countries could do with a morale-boosting shot in the arm; England with its Brexit woes; Australia still having the likes of Dutton and Cash as federal ministers.
So should I back the side whose prime minister is a second-rate snake-oil salesman, a pathological lying flim-flam man of dull wit, corny meaningless slogans, laughable media stunts and a totally unwarranted self-belief completely at odds with his shameful employment history and laughable performance as a government minister?
Or Boris Johnson’s?