Once upon a time Westenders were the elite and Eastenders the working class. But that was in Europe where prevailing westerly winds carried the stench of refuse and open sewage away from the most expensive West land toward the East.
The monsoon and cyclone season used to mean a sharp decrease in illegal arrivals. Not any more because those who propose getting here by boat can read polls.
Okay, so I'm a xenophobe and a racist? To be honest I couldn't give a stuff any more. What is happening to my country and yours is plain wrong.
A bit of botox in that forehead, a little cutaneous renewal, a makeup make-over, a new wardrobe of Chanel creations and the old Julia of the Socialist hard Left is almost unrecognisable.
We languish in the bottom half of the World's best educated kids and this disastrous problem won't be solved by reading Bunyip stories to kids for the benefit of film crews.
Media promotion of a Rudd challenge is finally about to run out of steam. Rudd was never a likely palliative for Labor's ills but the Press has persisted despite Caucus denials. Today's Newspoll finally confirms a Rudd return would make little if any dent in tornado Tony.
We refuelled again near Alldays, ripped off the false decals, and headed for Pretoria.
Keating and now Swan have been hailed by international magazines as the World's best money managers. Goodness me, that sounds like a nice award, I think I'll apply next year.
The Brussells airport diamond heist got my heart racing. It was slick and those diamonds were sold before they were stolen.
The possible return of Rudd might sell a newspaper but Caucus ain't buying it and neither is anyone else who can recall just how bad he was, and still is. His degree of popularity is directly related to Gillard's degree of unpopularity.
Tony Abbott's determination that 20,000 Public Service jobs are to go is a gross underestimate and I suspect he knows that.
Christine Milne's decision to dump the toxic Gillard was one of self preservation and paradoxically Gillard is tickled pink.
"Bloody hell, Swannie, where are you?" yelled Julia from across the hallway. John McTernan walked into Julia's office, "The dopey prick is in Russia, can I help?"