It sounds like tag-team wrestling, but actually, it’s politics: The Fatman and The Hatman take on the Rest of the World.

The Magpie hears that if Katter and Palmer go ahead with their bizarre inter-species breeding of political parties,  it may well be without the Mad Katter himself … some inside goss on that. Also, looks like more jobs to go at the Townsville Bulletin in the not too distant future …

The ‘Pie also takes a squizz at the state of play in Walker Street for the independent conservatives …

The misery of misplaced ads in newspapers and magazines– a red-face round-up of the best of the worst whoopsies of careless page layouts f …

And Bentley’s back with his clever pen!

So onwards for this week.

And the mystery of the century, the missing Malaysian airliner continues to hold the world transfixed, but with the lack of any material evidence, all sorts of side-bar stories are emerging. In the bag of bizarre coincidences is this one, which looks genuine enough. If it isn’t hanky panky with photoshop, it is a goosebumper in the premonition department.

To matters political.

Will it be the a fantastic fight or just a frightful fizzer?

‘Laaadeezzz and genulmun, for your delectation and unmitigated pleasure, we present – in the powder blue lycra tights with the cottonball tassled fringing – (drumroll) The Fatman, Clive Palmer, who is teamed up with (drumroll) The Hatman, Bob Katter, who wears his traditional battle dress of just his Akubra, Kung Fu Panda Y-fronts and high-heeled cowboys boots. They will square of against to The Wingnut Wonder, Tony The Terrible and Bill the Short ‘Un, who will be kitted out in those Mormon ‘no naughtiness’ underpants to prevent him jumping any female fan before he reaches the ring. But watch out for the other team spoiling for a bit of biffo, the Gormless Greens who specialize in their famous Squirrel Hold while going BOP! (Balance of Power).

That may all come to pass, but perhaps not as envisaged right now.

The heavy breathing down the MagpieFone during the week included the intelligence that Bob might be about to hang up his Akubra because there seems to be a big toll be taken on his health of late. He’s said to be pretty tired and run down of late, and thus succumbing to a series of minor health issues. This is said to be the result of having upped the political ante with his new party on the national scene. And that party seems to be falling apart at the seams, with former supporters leaving in droves, feeling all dressed up with nowhere to go (known as the David Moyle Syndrome, or DMS, which exhibits symptoms very close to the better known PMS).

If the chatter about Katter is on the money, The ‘Pie will bet the very sensible and nice Mrs Katter will have a big say in any future job for Bob. At least she’s smart enough to know when enough is enough. And so are the voters of Kennedy. Watching.

We’ll also be watching the pirouetting and positioning of the conservative majority of independents down in Walker Street. Indeed, it seems to have already started. It is a ways out from the next council election, but the elephant that ambled into the room from the moment Townsville First leader Dale Last bit the dust is who would take the TF banner and run for the mayoralty.

Vern Veitch was the obvious choice as Deputy Doo Dah and was always positioned for that role, but The Parsnip has been improving his chances of having a shot at Mayor Mullet. Trevor Roberts isn’t interested in the top job and, for decent family reasons, never has been. These three are the steering committee, as it were on Townsville First policy settings, and there doesn’t seem to be any friction within the majority block right now.

The ’Pie reckons ‘Uncle Fester’ Veitch will be thinking about both his age at the next election, and the risk of being out of a job if he challenges and loses the mayoralty. He may opt for the more secure plan of running again as a plain ‘ol councilor (or as plain as you can be for $100,000 plus p.a)

That would leave Parsnip in the box seat, but also facing the same dilemma, although at an age where a comeback would be possible.

The ‘Pie is told whatever the outcome of that particular tussle, the ruling majority is aware that any split in their ranks risks a split vote. And not just the mayoral vote, so God help the ‘Ville if possible councillor  candidates like the chief shill for the Pinnacles sideshow, Deborah ‘Show Me The Money’ Gibson, the politically naïve (read ‘idiot’) Paul Jacob and (shudder) the seemingly thought-disordered Guy Reece ever get up.

Should that happen, The ‘Pie would love to have the contract to sell tickets to the three ring circus the council would become.

Continuing with his personal reading of the slaughtered goat’s entrails, The ‘Pie suggests keeping a close eye on Ray Haystack Gartrell, who has managed to get himself into a position where it seems he isn’t trusted by either side of politics.

He is widely regarded as a closet Labor man (from a good and stalwart Labor family) and a show pony of the first order, trying to run blubbing agendas in the Astonisher.  And he makes no secret that ‘councillors get paid peanuts’ and he could be eyeing off a shot at state, possibly joining the assault on Townsville’s John Hathaway. One can’t help but get the impression this well-liked sporty boof  is in it for the money. He and Messagebank could start a club.

Other observations. Independent Pat Ernst has been giving the TF mob headaches of late on a number of issues. He will be interesting to watch over the next year or so, challenging the majority view on a number of items. If he stays away from Katteresque flights of fancy like water parks in national parks (well, it was almost that) and having a non-consultative go at council officers, he could put some decent cats amongst the pigeons. The ‘Pie reckons he’s a one-term councillor, and maybe won’t stand next time around. Doesn’t toe the conservative line, and is a true independent, right or wrong. And he doesn’t understand – or apparently want to – politics at all, like most straight-shooters from a background of running their own businesses.

The ‘Pie reckons Jenny Lane, who has turned in an admirably solid and consistent performance for more than 24 years in local government (at the time of the next poll) might just call it quits. As far as the media goes,  Jenny keeps herself to herself, presumably disgusted at the Astonisher’s insistence on having a biased Mullet sock puppet like Anthony Simpleton trying to be an influential  player in a community where he is yet another News Ltd temporary resident..

Gary Eddiehausen has proved to be the star find of the new batch of Walker Street wannabees, and should romp back in (and the respected ex-copper may be an outside chance for higher honours – the town could do worse).

Sue Blom will probably run again, no doubt facing an interesting challenge from Paul Jacob, who is reported to be incensed with his Ratbags Association’s recent decision not to field any official  candidates in the council election. That sox’n’sandals brigade made took this decision on the Wizard Of Oz grounds that they are ‘more effective on the sidelines’. That is the type of stance that puts one in mind of Stanley Baldwin’s famous comment in 1931 that ‘Power without responsibility, the prerogative of the harlot throughout the ages’.

It’s going to be fun to see how all this pans out.

(A digression: Baldwin got the pithy, timeless saying from his cousin, the writer Rudyard Kipling. A colleague at the time exclaimed ‘Now he’s lost us the tart’s vote’. Baldwin was actually referring to press barons of the day who had attacked him. Ah, the more things change, etc.)

Moving on.

Our man Bentley, an old salt from way back, has been away ‘muckin’ around in boats’ but his is a timely return in a week that saw the Newman Government rule that yachties in Nellie Bay cannot live on their boats for more than 30 days at a time. The vessels can stay but owners have to leave for seven days before they can return., an open invitation to thieves and other assorted arseholes. Bureaucratic pointless idiocy at its shining best. Bentley ain’t amused.

Some of the staff down at the Astonisher won’t be amused sometime in the not too distant future.  If there are still any of those exalted newspaper types called layout subs – the folk who make everything fit on a given page – their jobs are on the line.

This is courtesy of the latest brave new world initiative of the money-grubbers in Holt Street.

It is apparently called Methode, a customized computer program that – hope your sitting down for this – will allow reporters to write their stories directly into the paper as it is being assembled. They will write their stories to fit pre-determined spaces around the all-important ads. Don’t know all the details, but, as Dame Edna says, ‘it’s spooky, possums’, given what appears in the Astonisher WITH subbing, albeit an often lackadaisical effort. And that’s not to mention the slacko website. And when it gets down to the legal niceties, with people like Simpo It could be fully loaded lawyers at 40 paces on a regular basis.

One supposes you have to give News Ltd credit for cleverness, in the manner of a rat with a gold tooth. Because this way, no jobs will be going overseas to Mumbai, Manila or Auckland … there just won’t be any jobs, with reporters themselves picking up the slack.

The Magpie is sincere when he says that he is immensely looking forward to this development … never again will he have the early week jitters that there won’t be anything comical to write about.

But newspapers and magazines have always had their unintended moments of humor, and chief among them is the inadvertent placement of stories adjacent to ads,.

In the 1950s, London’s Daily Mail ran a front page ad for the popular Three Nuns’ pipe tobacco ‘, The lead story right next door was about the violent Mau Mau uprising against the British in Kenya. The headline read ‘Mau Mau Butcher Two Nuns’. Sadly, the tobacco’s slogan, emblazoned next to the headline was ‘I prefer Three Nuns’.

There have been plenty of these instances, some comical, some sniggerable, all embarrassing. Like this.

You’d think the plank from Parents mag who did this just might have noticed something.

And some downright careless on some very unfunny subjects. Like this one.

And, as reported a few weeks here, there is the ever-present problem with fonts. This last one is particularly dodgy when fancy photoshopping is involved, and shows up the too clever by half aspect of publishing manipulation. Of particular danger is the full page ads side by side in magazines.

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Less harmful but eminently chuck-worthy is this middle page mismatch.

Many a bloke who has been stung in the War of the Sexes will see this in an ‘ain’t that the truth’ light.

And The ‘Pie has no idea what this is advertising.

… and finally, this somewhat less spectacular boo-boo sums up the brave new world of information delivery as communications clash.

And on that note, it is enough for this week and it is away to Poseurs’ Bar, where the old bird will bebubble a suitable lass, with a view to suiting himself. But he fears the answer will be a photoshopped when she reflects on her reply.