See you in court, Clive!


Clive Palmer is supposed to be the nation’s most litigious businessman/has-been pollie/will-never-ever-again be a pollie going around.

Or in his case, very, very round.

So it is with a little trepidation that The Bug calls him out, not so much for being pond scum but the sludge on the bottom of the first tank that the shit plops into at the sewerage works.

Like all putrid piles of human excreta, Clive is incapable of any human thought, at least one decent enough to be directed in the pursuit of anything worthwhile in the at-times festering pond of life.

He’s a dead shit with some primodial and barely recognisable intelligence sadly dominated by self-interest and survival.

Which gets me to this current Queensland election, now in its death throes.

Amoebic Clive shuffles about osmosis-like spreading shit with just one aim: to install an LNP government that will not stand in the way of anything he’s got his blob-like fingers into, particularly his Waratah mine projects in central Queensland.

Like all single-cell primate forms of life, Clive is largely incapable of individual and positive thought.

He has dumbly doubled down on his poisonous $90 million plus work from the last federal election, mimicking the orange buffoon across the seas and trying to tap into the sentiments and resentments of equally simple Queensland folk who think life has cruelly past them by.

This bilious barrel of bottom emissions is once again spraying trumpisms in all directions as if the sphincter on his fundamental orifice has ruptured into pieces, with “Make Queensland Great Again!” and “Drain the Swamp!” washing over the simple folk on their porches across regional Queensland, who respond by strumming their banjos even faster.

Then there’s his poop-de-resistance, his monstrous “Labor’s 20 per cent death tax” lie.

A lazy prick incapable of coming up with positive things to push for his Palmer’s Australian United Party other than a simplistic “A new deal for Queensland” that has those banjos once more picking up their pace, Palmer resorts to a straight-out lie to push his case.

He knows it’s a lie. His missus who’s fronting the ads pushing the lie knows it’s a lie. The Courier-Mail that greedily takes all the two-page ads knows it’s a lie. The toothless Queensland Electoral Commission knows it’s a lie. Clive just hopes there’s enough dumb Queenslanders out there who don’t know it’s a lie.

Why go for truth and decency when a $10 million ad spend can achieve the result you want?

The UAP will get an amoeba’s share of the votes in the seats it is contesting but that sewerage tank will be well and truly muddied and other simplistic conservative lifeforms will hopefully float to the top to protect this bottom-feeder. That’s Clive’s simplistic, cheating, unethical and unprincipled plan.

It’s just a crying shame that this fat, selfish, self-centred mass of fecal lard couldn’t have made Queensland ever greater by staying the fuck out of politics and travelling via various polluted waterways back to Townville where he could have used the money to repay refinery workers up there who he stitched up with single-cell, rat-cunning corporate legalise.

Don Gordon-Brown