Yesterday, Australia's greatest intellectual and foremost foreign affairs analyst was at the height of his powers:
"Corbyn is several hundred standard deviations worse a candidate for national leadership than ever Donald Trump was... He is surrounded by self-declared Marxists, long-time supporters of terrorist groups, and recently recruited former communists. His rise is the most startling indictment of mainstream political culture anywhere... Britain's destiny, and a huge part of the world's fortune, rests on tonight's outcome." (World needs Britons to vote Conservative, The Australian, 8/6/17)
Tonight, alas, he was found, curled up in a foetal position, a copy of yesterday's Australian over his head, clutching his treasured 2007 Jerusalem Prize as though it were a teddy bear, and whimpering pathetically for his long-deceased Auntie Poppy. The best efforts of Australian medical personnel to bring him around have so far failed. His dear, distraught friend, Benjamin Netanyahu, is reported to have sent a crack Israeli medical team to Sydney to administer shots of Israeli pheromones, known in the past to have had the great man up and dancing to Hava Nagila. His boss, Rupert Murdoch, has even despatched Jerry Hall to give him the kiss of life, swearing that if Jerry's smacker is what keeps him going, it can do the same for Greg.