And here come Kevin (07) Rudd and Johnny (power walk) Howard down the straight. They’re in full swing into the final week of campaigning the living daylights out of us.
I’m really not the most politically minded person in the world so when asked to put together a piece on the election I thought, God, what the hell am I going to write about? I don’t know enough to write something that might start some passionate arguments on the forum, so starting a debate wasn’t going to work.
I started to think about them as just men, not political machines and then it came to me – I wonder what it would be like to be in bed with one of these men.
It turned out to be one of those moments when you see something you wish you hadn’t and you are left with a horrible scar burned into your consciousness. It’s like seeing your nana naked or busting in on your folks doing the horizontal polka.
But as long as it was a thought I wasn’t going to get rid of any time soon, I thought I might as well run with it and see where it went. So, which one of these men is more sponge-worthy?
The first thing I thought was what roles would both of these men play in the bedroom? I can’t see either of them being tops. The thought of Johnny talking dirty nearly made me fall off my chair with laughter. Could you imagine that voice and stutter whispering saucy and sweet nothings into your ear? You also couldn’t trust him to stick around because he would just palm you off to his even less popular friend, Costello.
You’d imagine, however, that he’d have plenty of stamina. After all, the man goes for a nice long walk along the harbour foreshore every morning. But then I look at his other sporting pursuits, such as his love for cricket, and I know he has poor hand-eye coordination. That could be problematic.
Regardless, it’s the eyebrows that kill it for me and that mean Little Johnny isn’t likely to get into my trousers any time soon.
So what about young Kevin Rudd? There was the stripper thing after all – and I dare say it won him a lot of votes because what is more Aussie than getting munted with a bunch of mates and going to see a few near-naked lovelies? And let’s face it, gay or straight, we’ve all cast a discerning eye over a half-naked beauty or two. So we’re off to a good start.
Then there was the ear wax thing – and if you don’t know about it I’m not sharing it here. Needless to say you have to love a man who isn’t afraid of his own body products.
But after Kev on Rove on Sunday night I’m afraid I can’t help but think he’d be a two-thrust wonder who’d need an instruction manual to get his pants off.
When hit with the “who would you turn gay for?” question he brought out a little note pad and went thought a list of uninspiring answers that he didn’t even write. Silly boy, he could’ve had the gay vote right there and then.
So I guess I am going to have to wait for another election to get myself sprawled across a Prime Minister’s desk. Either that or I start giving Peter Costello and Julia Gillard some serious thought.
Hmm …
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