It’s hard to mark down the year 2022 considering what happened to me just a few months back. Out of the blue – and without a word of a lie I didn’t see it coming because I thought we were only up for a chat – this very attractive lady who I had never met before stuck her finger right up my arse.

About 40 is my best guess. Of Asian appearance. Yes, very attractive. And, yes, again, I’d like to think we both derived a little amount of pleasure out of the experience. We’d be less than human if we didn’t.

The only downside from this unexpected yet rather personal encounter? My new best bum chum is a rectal/colon cancer surgeon who was taking a forefinger look at a Spanish chap that an earlier colonoscopy had revealed is using my rectum as a dance floor. Malignantly tripping the light fantastic, totally uninvited, in my turd chute.

The good news, after we both enjoyed a cigarette and stole those shy glances that only such intimacy can bring, is that she thought this solo dancer was far enough away from my freckle that if she has to operate next year, she can cut and resection and I won’t need a shit bag. Sorry to go all technical on you once again there but there it is.

A few months on, I’m half way through radiation and chemotherapy and we’re still some time away from knowing if all this high-powered X-ray zapping and pills that could choke a pony have done the trick and my new girlfriend can leave me well enough alone.

Or at least if she still wants to put her finger up my arse, let it not be in a medical context at somewhere as impersonal as the Royal Brisbane and Women’s Hospital.

Now I know what you’re thinking. A crook crack and an uncertain future – quelle bummer, right! -should have me downgrading 2022 to billy-O but I just can’t!

And why? Because in 2022 Australia rid itself of that loathsome, lazy, lardarse, lying, loser. That muddling, mediocre, mendacious, faux-marketing moron. Yes, we dispatched Smirko/ScumMo/CuntO/the Liar from the Shire/the Crook from Cook/the Crime Minister and, yes, thank-you to the Betoota Advocate for the pisstake hashtag #scottiefrommarketing.

At top is my favourite image from 2022, the one where Morriscum’s parliamentary mates are comforting him after that naughty Labor Party used its numbers in the House of Representatives to censure him for promoting himself secretly to a handful of ministries.

Don’t you love that pleading, pitiful look? The former bully begging for some totally undeserved backing from his true believers. A former rooster reduced to much less than a featherduster.

I might have added the speech bubbles at some stage to cheer myself up given current circumstances.

Now, would you all mind terribly if I milk this muckhole marauder for all its worth and tell the missus I need to go and have a Bex and a good lie down for the rest of 2022?

Don Gordon-Brown

PS: A happy New Year to all my reader and don’t forget: use those bowel test kits when they start arriving in your 50s; always look behind you and go with your gut feelings.