And it seems the Grand Experiment – that Joh-For Canberra incarnation, Katter’s Australian Party – is ready to breathe its last. And politically, Bob seems almost certainly down the gurgler, too.
But that’s all just for starters, the scrabbling and scurrying behind the political skirting boards is reaching fever pitch as all sorts of folks line up for a nibble of the political cheese.
But first, a bit of a chortle as the ALP tries to re-group in this neck of the woods. It appears the North Ward branch was withering on the vine, unable to raise a quorum of five. The nearby Garbutt branch wasn’t travelling all that well either, so both branches decided to merge and become the Townsville Central branch, or something like that.
Boring stuff, sure, but what sends the imagination into overdrive is the venue for the monthly meeting is gay central, the Sovereign Hotel on Flinders Street West.
Well, fair enough, an appropriate venue for a party that believes in deciding preferences behind closed doors, in the spirit of give and take.
Doesn’t seem too much of that spirit surviving in the Mad Katter Party. If what The ‘Pie is hearing os right, it seems that the Mad Katter Party is kaptuzo-finito. A reliable Magpie mate reports that Jeff and Ken Knuth have been told they’re surplus to requirements by ol’ Kattertonic himself, who grandiosely claims he doesn’t need or want branches, presumably because they too often express views not to his liking. This, remember, was the party that listed it’s number one principle that members vote individually on their conscience on all issues. A sort of Clayton’s party when you’re not having a party. And the inevitable and oh-so-predictable outcome appears to have come to pass.
As The Pie said at the time, in political terms, it’s a funny way to fly an aeroplane. So Katter Party Flight 1 looks like disappearing without a trace, joining Malaysia’s mystery 777 in the ‘whatever happened to’ dinner party speculation.
At last report, state member Shane Knuth (campaign slogan ‘Knuth – K’noath’) will hang in there in Dalrymple for KAP, but a back-flip and a return to the LNP must be in the back of his mind. With his margin, he may still win anyway.
All that said, we’re some way out from any election – March 2016 for the council mob – a not-too-distant ‘no later than June 20, 2015’ for state – and the latest the feds can go is January 14 2017
So that gives plenty of time for you to totally forget The Pie’s wild prognostications on all sorts of possibilities.
And could there be a new face and strident voice on the political scene, at some level or other? A vitriolic and honking supporter of the cash grab Pinnacles satellite city project, Deborah Gibson, – she and hubby own about 100 acres of the proposed project, so we can depend on her for a balanced view of ripping of Townsville ratepayers to get the project up – has been writing letters to the Astonisher’s iditor on a number of other issues of late. Although poorly argued and full of low-rent populistm, those letters all make it seems she’s doing a Colin Dwyer and lifting her profile for a possible run at public office.
That wouldn’t surprise, when you look at the family background. Ms Gibson is Ken Knuth’s daughter and a cousin to brothers Shane and Jeff Knuth, Ken’s nephews. Be interesting to see to which wagon she hitches her star, if she decides to have a trot at any level.
But the variety of political possibilities have been multiplied with recent change to local government regulations, dropping the requirement that councillors or mayors resign their positions if they want to run for office in a higher tier of government.
Last week, The ‘Pie reported on Les Messagebank Walker’s unannounced campaign of meaningless media appearances around town (although notably, none in his own Division 10). So why this uncharacteristic flurry of activity from a bloke widely regarded as one of the laziest of Mooney’s former sock-puppet menagerie? Several people have also noted that Messagebank has had a personal cut and polish, wearing ties and generally dressing to look less like an unmade bed.
Here’s the idle speculation.
Given that at worst he’ll only spent a brief campaign spell off the gravy train if he loses, The ‘Pie reckons Messagebank fancies a shot at the state seat of Burdekin, despite having been wiped across the floor once or twice already down there. The incumbent, Rosie The Iron Maiden Menkens is yet to decide if she’ll run again (says she will but at this stage, what else could she say), and if she does, Les would be prudent to pull his head in.
But Les won’t be too worried about an unsuccessfiul outcome, because he imagines a different glittering prize at the local level.
Here’s how it goes. Buggered in the Burdekin, he returns to council, continues his self-styled celebrity status in a compliant Astonisher and then stands for … ta dum … mayor at the council election.
But how can this be so as the professor used to ask, surely Mayor Mullet is the incumbent for Labor!?!
Well, she might not be … word is that she has been using her mayoral stint to regain brownie points after previous lackluster showings, in the hope of getting the pre-selection nod to run against the LNP’s John Hathaway in the seat of Townsville. Hathaway is seen as the most vulnerable of the LNP’s three local members, and the Labor ranks … and other minor parties – are buzzing with anticipation. And again, several have noted that she has pulled back somewhat from her petulant and political combative ways, and the council – much to iditor Lachlan Heywood’s frustration – seems to humming along pretty well.
But even she puts up her hand, would the Mullet get the Labor nod?
Probably not, according to whispers down the MagpieFone. The more likely choice is said to be Pimlico High Deputy Principal Scott Stewart, the former head of Town High. He is also the president of the Hermit Park Labor branch, and is said to be keen to have a shot at state politics. To muddy those waters further, Cathy O’Toole could be hovering around looking for a gig – any gig – and in order avoid food fights at the family dinner table, would probably be backed by brother-in-law Mike Capt Snooze Reynolds.
Sparky Mark Harrison is said to be ready for another drubbing from Kid Crisafulli in Mungdingburra, and no one is sure who and how many will take on Thuringowa’s energizer bunny Sam Cox. Maybe Messagebank’s Kodak mate from last week, Mark Molachino will have a dip. It’s understood Mr. Molachino is back in the Labor fold after a flirtation on the fringes in KAP but that does raise the question, did he remain a paid up Labor member while fluttering eyelashes elsewhere? That’s naughty in itself, but if he did resign his ALP membership to temporarily go rogue, he then comes up against the party rule of three years continuous paid membership to be eligible for pre-selection. That rule is only ever waived if A) you’re a ‘captain’s pick’, B) female and C) Nova Peris.
Mr Molachino is unlikely to be any of the above.
He is also one of the main braying members of the Townsville Ratbags Association (aka Ratepayers Ass).
All round, Labor seems to be having trouble finding new presentable blood willing to offer themselves up to the fray.
On the federal scene, Ewen Dumbo Jumbo Jones continues to be a concern for the backroom greybeards of the Liberal Party. Gaining pre-selection as a 12th man pick, Jones was given the cynical nod because it was widely believed Tony Mooney would trounce him. But the reverse happened and now, in a just reward for such cynicism, the Libs is stuck with him … and his mouth. As a former second-rate real estate auctioneer, Dumbo is proving to be an outstanding … well, a second-rate real estate auctioneer. The patter of that ‘profession’ rolls endlessly from his lips, occasionally causing offence, often confirming he is a buffoon, but it is his unbelievably gauche thought bubbles that have him at his winceable best. Like his comments about fat people and putting a coal-fired power station right on Townsville’s downwind doorstep.
Ewen Dumbo the Dietician Jones
Nice bloke personally and all that, but politically, Dumbo is an A grade dunce, who listens to no one, thinks any publicity is good publicity (not in politics, sport) and has demonstrated wobbly loyalty to party policy. Mr Jones seems to think will make him a bluff man-of-the-people who speaks his mind. If he actually were to speak his mind, his sentences would be a lot shorter.
The Pie is told that if he makes a blunder of bear-trap proportions, he may be facing a pre-selection battle next time around.
On the local government level, there is some elbow-ribbing and cold-shouldering going on down in Walker Street, but more on that in the next blog or two. Suffice to say that the conflict of interest matter mentioned last week is now done and dusted satisfactorily, with no boundaries actually crossed and no one having their botty smacked.
Best comment on national politics has come the irrepressible Leunig, with this little pearler.
Other matters.
Bentley is back from a break, and is much amused at the Kiwis seeking a new flag, in part because they often get mistaken for Aussies – until they start talking, of course. The hunt is on for a new flagpole symbol for the Shaky Isles, but our boy Bentley has the obvious answer.
In other overseas news, the ingenious South Africans have come up with a public safety device, just in case there is any Pistorious-style confusion around the place.
Dunno, reckon a couple of rounds through the door would greatly assist in achieving the purpose of the visit in the first place.
Back home, this from the Astonisher’s classifieds recently.
Either way, a good tune-up seems to be in order.
And you shouldn’t wonder why dogs sometimes bite, given what some people do to them.
Take that, you kool kats.
And have a look at this glittering little bauble that came The Pie’s way during the week. Whether or not you agree with the sentiment (and the naughty word at the heart of the jape) it really is funny. After a solemn start, it suddenly becomes an hilarious – and depending on your point of view, accurate – commentary on social conscious of Big Business.
That message prompts The ‘Pie to depart for Poseurs’ Bar, where he will be-bubble a suitable companion, and perchance try Mongrel the Barrister’s line to break down any defensive argument. Last week, his new-found gal was hesitant about accepting his offer of intimate companionship, suggesting she would hate herself in the morning.
‘No problem, sleep til noon, c’m, on let’s go’.
And they went.
