...born with the gift of laughter and a sense that the world was mad

Watch me kangaroo court, sport: Maclean's columnist Andrew Coyne is blogging live from the B.C. show trial. Reading his account of the proceedings, one can't help but feel that the real cruel and unusal punishment is the decision to hold the show, which will likely continue all week,  in a windowless, airless sweatbox of a room.

For those not inclined to keep tabs on the trial, I've summarized yesterday's events--and sped head to the anticipated "guilty" verdict--in the form of a hokey Aussie novelty song:

See the Coyne blogger sweat, pet.

See the Coyne blogger sweat.

Not much air anywhere, there.

See the Coyne blogger sweat.

Watch me kangaroo court, sport.

Watch me kangaroo court.

See the ‘roos all cavort, sport.

Watch me kangaroo court.

Hear the ‘Slamist berate, mate.

Hear the ‘Slamist berate.

Rails against Maclean’s “hate,” mate.

Hear the ‘Slamist berate.

Mind the sock puppet’s flak, Jack.

Mind the sock puppet’s flak.

Elmo’s keeping way back, Jack.

Mind the sock puppet’s flak.

Play your digeridoo, Lou.

Play your digeridoo.

Helps drown out all the 'roos, Lou.

Play your digeridoo.

Farce a pain in the arse, Barb.

Farce a pain in the arse.

Truth and justice and sparse, Barb.

Farce a pain in the arse.

Free expression is dead, Fred.

Free expression is dead.

Bad moon rising ahead, Fred.

Free expression is dead.

Posted by: scaramouche at 10:50 | link | comments

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