Today Costello made the papers, again, and then wheeled himself round parliament at better than Howard pace in what is apparently an Essendon training strip … a get up garish enough to pass as some sort of search and rescue rig for bankers who fear infarction during mid-morning jogs. He was the only Canberra power walker yesterday bright enough to be seen from space. He said nothing. Which is, let’s face it his long suit: enigmatically eloquent.

If ever he stoops to high office he might refine this technique and take it to its full extension, staging press conferences in which he stands, impassive, smiling a little, even moving to the odd hyper expressive grin, but saying not a word. All would then be possible. Everything would be a matter of divination. The well-honed craft of evasive politics would meet in rapturous union with the primary journalistic need to interpret. True bliss.

We will move on from this one day and elect a mime as PM. He or she will be a Democrat (an emerging preference for the circus arts in politics will be their ticket back). In a black leotard. With a beret. And a gerbera. Which really is all you need to say in most instances about anything except the finer detail of the national accounts, a moment that probably calls for white clownface. Don’t say you weren’t warned.

Me? I’m appalled, and have thus resolved to help. I searched for Urinary dipstick on Youtube, because, you know, dipstick video.

This is what I found:

Click here to view the embedded video.

It has nothing to do with urine, or vets. It is does however feature a dipstick and is amusing in its way.