The first (and last) time I ate my earwax
In the wake of the political scandal of Kevin Rudd eating his own earwax in Parliament, I thought I’d disclose a personal anecdote, which may or may not illumine this apparently shocking incident.
A long time ago when I was a young adult — okay, a long, long time ago — I was sitting reading a book, when I was suddenly irritated by an infuriating itch inside my ear.
I gingerly probed my ear hole with my little finger to soothe the source of the itch, then noticed that the nail of this little finger actually had an overly sharp edge that threatened to break the skin where I was scratching.
Absent-mindedly I then took that little finger to my mouth with a view to filing the edge off of it with my teeth — as one does, with no scissors or other specialist implements within convenient reach.
Ble-e-ecchhh!! I realised with deep revulsion that a trace of earwax had hitched a ride on that finger into my mouth, and its acrid flavour overwhelmed me with nausea.
Quite seriously, I can’t believe that anyone would habitually eat that stuff out of their own (or anyone else’s) ear.
Having only seen the incriminating Rudd footage once, I really can’t remember whether the expression on his face was a surprised grimace, or one of a furtive, stolen, secret pleasure. My own experience would suggest the former.
One day I may review that shocking footage, but for the moment my mind is occupied with more pressing political questions — such as, whether I should wait until election night to chill a much anticipated bottle of vintage champagne.
You see, as I may have mentioned elsewhere, I bought a bottle of bubbly on the eve of the 1998 election, with which I had planned to toast the lower-lip tremors of a single-term Prime Minister.
Nine years down the track, and not only have I “never had it so good”, but the Howard Era has yielded me a really fine bottle of vintage champagne!
But one can’t have one’s vintage and drink it too, so I really feel It’s Time! for the incumbent Prime Minister to give up the electoral ghost, so to speak, and let me enjoy my bubbly, at long last.
I do have other arguments, but at this time I find the above to be the most compelling.
Labels: John Howard, Kevin Rudd, political stigmata, scandalous personal habits, useless information
3 Comments:
No decision to make: a decent shiraz at "room" temperature my dear Jacob.
Earwax? A great political conundrum that. Well, for some at least.
The PM carried on a treat on 2BL this morning: how politically propitious it was for the Mersey hospital takeover to fall over in the middle of an election campaign. You'd think that it was planned - not that he was saying so. You'd think it was a politically timed obstacle. You'd think the Tasmanian government was playing politics. You'd have to question the motives of those involved (Labor State government).
And when Virginia Trioli actually fell for it and asked "So you're suggesting the state Labor government is stymieing your plan?” it was on for young and old. In the remaining three minutes Howard used “stymie” something near to ten times always with the caveat: ‘your description” or “the term you used”.
And he made certain he finished with “not that I am suggesting such is the case”.
No, of course not, you utter humbug.
I guess it's all too much for the old humbug (excellent descriptor, that) to admit that his 'takeover' presents an administrative nightmare between two implacable jurisdictions. Did he imagine it would be simply a matter of handing over the keys?
And yes, a conundrum for our times... a choice between a prospective PM who (allegedly) eats his own earwax, and an incumbent humbug who drinks his own bathwater.
Ble-e-ecchhh!!
In fairness, we can't know that Rudd is an habitual ear wax eater. It might be a minor recreational activity.
At least Howard is starting to sound vaguely alive again, getting almost quick on his toes.
So, it's taken him three entire weeks, but it beats the heck out of the dead-wood that he's been imitating for a while now.
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