Following a coffee catch-up with Hunters Hill’s second-most famous resident, Latte Leftie has had a Damascene conversion.
Dear LL – Are the reports you enjoyed double-half-caf-half-decaf-soy cappuccino with Joe Hockey true? Could it really be the case that you are considering betraying everything you hold dear to write speeches for a Liberal Party treasurer? How can you even contemplate aiding and abetting the man you recently described as, “A cigar-chomping, hobby farm-owning, investment banker-marrying private schoolboy who deserves to be beheaded – ISIS style – the next time he opens his big mouth about the end of the age of entitlement, before having his headless corpse towed through the streets in a car driven by a poor person while baying mobs laugh at his penis, which is no doubt even smaller than Paul Keating remembers Bob Hawke’s being.”
LL replies: It is indeed true that I may have made the odd ill-considered remark about Joseph Benedict Hockey (née Hokeidonian) in these pages in the past. But I’m man enough to say I’ve misjudged the world’s greatest treasurer. Consider the following: Joe is a Palestinian. Not one of those exciting bomb-throwing, death-to-Israel ones but surely being the son of a swarthy Middle Eastern refugee counts for something? And, sure, Joe had an expensive private school education but did you know that his father never came to his rugby games on the weekend because he was busy cleaning the floor of his deli with nothing more than his tongue and a bit of scrunched-up newspaper? Granted, Hokeidonian Senior might have ended up a Whitlam-hating, reactionary property developer but do I need to remind everyone that, in his younger years, he named his son after Joseph Benedict Chifley? Given all that, I fail to see how I can be condemned for playing Toby Ziegler to a man who’s almost as left-wing as the sainted Malcolm Turnbull.
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