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 There
I was reading a copy of the newspaper in my relaxing kerosine
bath at the old folks' home and came across the story on how
ill Christopher Skase is.
To you youngsters out there, Skase is Australia's No.1 sought-after
man having skeedaddled the country when his multi-bazillion-dollar
empire went down the toilet some years ago.
For a decade we've spent heaps of cash trying to get the
fat cat out of Spain and back to face the music here, but
to no avail.
His lawyers said he wheezed worse than I did, a plane trip
could kill him (well with airline food and DVT that could
happen to anyone) and he wasn't happy about the possibility
of ending up in a cell with a 200-kilo "daddy".
That may be so, however there is such a word as justice and
I don't care if cancer is making him skinnier than me - he
should cop what comes.
Oh there'll be bleeding-hearts throwing up their hands in
horror saying "but he's so sick", well let me tell
you that if I can live with an emaciated, bed-sore covered
and half-starved body then he can suffer the Big C.
Problem is, the bloke is a pampered pratt hiding behind his
Spanish bodyguards and is just sitting there laughing at us.
Oooops, gotta go, there are bubbles in the bath....
If there is something that has really got up your nose,
let Grumpy Old Coot know at grumpy@webwombat.com
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