You know I've seen a lot of people
walking around with tombstones in their eyes.
But the pusher don't care ah
if you live or if you die.
I say god damn god damn the pusherman
Steppenwolf

With vivid memories of every prime minister since Chiffley, I've known all of them since Menzies. And I've worked with, or against, every PM since Holt. And despite the stiff competition, it's painfully obvious that John Howard is, by a considerable margin, the worst of the lot. More than that, the record shows that he's the worst since Federation: the most divisive, devious and dangerous.

From fish and chipperer to political junkie, the weird Queenslander just can't stay away from the fray. But win or lose whatever seat for whatever house she is standing in, Pauline of the HellHound Eyes can feel proud in being the wicked witch who inspired the evil magician Mombi Howard to turn Oz into a landscape L. Frank Baum never dreamed or nightmared of.

Howard has succeeded, with the political nous Hanson so clearly lacks and the power of the Liberal Party behind him, in turning this country back: from a forward-looking, independent nation seeking to engage with its closest neighbours with the confidence of a strong and inclusive cultural identity, to a place of fear and division, of lies and obfuscation; a place which looks to Western superpowers to reinforce its sense of self, and turns away from its neighbours, from its indigenous people, from those in the most desperate circumstances who throw themselves on our mercy - perhaps because they had heard, long ago, that Australia was a welcoming and tolerant place.

A place that, in 1996, was rightly shocked and disgusted at the xenophobia and ignorance being spouted by the independent member for Oxley.

Occasionally one of Australia's best journalists cuts loose with a piece of exquisite satire and this may be the best of all. Thanks to Mark Latham's funding cutbacks for those hightoned factories that produce assembly line Illiberals. Here's an excerpt:

My dear Mr Latham,

I understand you've eschewed crudity since defeating that lovely Kim Beazley chap, but absit invidia, you are a beastly, beastly man.

Advanced Dressage classes were hopelessly disrupted this morning as word spread of Labor's communistic plot to target needy students in decent schools.

We're taught to believe the best of people, Mr Latham, so I've enclosed an invitation from Headmaster to visit our school and see for yourself the damage Labor's policy could do. There's a map as well - if you park near tennis court 12, walk across the eight cricket fields and past the 10 rugby grounds, you'll see a massive six-storey building. Don't stop there, that's the gymnasium.

Head for the boatshed, veer through the six soccer pitches and you'll be at the rifle range. For you're own safety, don't linger long there, Mr Latham (that's a joke!!), but head for the information desk on the fourth floor of the library/theatre/hospital complex. They'll direct you to the school monorail, and it's a 15-minute ride to the principal's office.

Mark Latham and Peter Costello had two very different experiences as they strolled through shopping centres yesterday.

Costello had to fend off a terrorist attack from a 4-year-old Ninja Turtle in a Brisbane mall. The young amphibian reacted accurately to Costello's patronising smirk by attempting to kickbox the Treasurer's shins.

Circus Latham hit the sedate sidewalks of Concord like Hurricane Ivan, forcing mothers to shield children from serious injury and businesses to tape up shop windows to withstand the buffeting of rogue microphone booms and camera tripods.

After more than an hour holding up traffic and bowling over shoppers, the Ringmaster paused to challenge Howard and Peter Costello to another debate.

"I'd take them both on like those old wrestling matches," Latham said. "Where the fellow runs out of the dressing room, tag team, he's got the foreign objects and the chair. I'll take them both on, a caged match."