Labor still likes to imagine it’s a folk singer belting out tunes for the weak and needy. But Labor hasn’t gone and had a chat to the weak and needy for decades. If they did, they’d find something out: that the hobo hiding under the shop awning corner will clutch his bottle of McWilliam’s Port hardest to his chest when Labor comes by, fearing it will reach down and guzzle the last remnants, spitbacks and all.Stick a "u" in it, and you have the Rusty Chancellor walking down The Strand, with winos flinching as he passes. Everyone else he passes will be checking their pockets, and finding their wallets have disappeared.
*Potted Aussie goodness