I’ll leave it to the family psychologists to explain this one:
KEVIN Rudd’s sister-in-law yesterday admitted to her secret past as a stripper, saying it was a period of her life she regretted.
Greg Rudd tells how true love blossomed at the strip club:
“Yes, she did tell me she was a part-time exotic dancer. Yes, I did visit her at the club where she worked.
“Yes, we started going out and when we started going out she stopped working at the club.
Notice, the brothers Rudd answer questions the same way, as if they’re the questioner.
A question Kevin Rude needs to answer: Even though you hope the average Aussie bloke will empathise with the lapse in control that found you in a strip joint in the Naked City (the way this is going we will end up with eight million stories), do you seriously believe the same fellas will swallow your line about phoning the missus next day and fessing up?
If by some amazing possibility it were true, you’ve got to worry about having such a masochist at the helm. I mean, anyone who phones across an ocean to tell the beloved he’s been perving at naked ladies must love punishment. China better keep an eye out. He’s likely to declare war on them just to get a thrashing. Hmmm, come to think of it, Kev would not be out of place with the British tories.
Seriously though, Rosemary comments sagely at the Bolta blog says that if Krudd did spill all to his wife, serious guilt was about.
In my experience, very young children when caught out in misbehaviour will outright lie to your face or say ‘they can’t remember’ in order to try and avoid punishment.KRudd’s supposed memory lapse reminds me of that and flies in the face of ‘fessing up’ to his wife the following morning. So what was he confessing to be a goose over? Usually referring to oneself as being a bit of a goose, means being a bit of an idiot. Was he idiotic about excessive drinking? Probably but thats ‘not’ normally the thing you’d apologise to your wife over (especially if she wasn’t there at the time). In my mind the ‘being a bit of a goose’ means that he was acting inappropriately with other women – thus the apology to his wife the morning after. If he had been cautioned by the establishment as well, then he must have obviously and evidently stepped across their line of acceptable behaviour.Yes he was and is a goose and a dill. Most men who have acted such usually front up shame-faced towards their wives afterwards. If KRudd was PM-material then he wouldn’t have tried to weasel his way out of this by citing memory loss. He would have told the entire truth and then weathered what came next. But no, maintaining the squeakly clean image is all important for KRudd and his actions and those of the left-wing press and his spin-doctors are the truth of that.One thing is for certain, is that if a senior federal coalition politician had been reported engaging in similar antics, the press and the opposition (and their hangers on) would have been baying for both blood and his resignation.
More Ruddie-nuddie fun:
KEVIN Rudd’s name has been linked to another strip club, in another embarrassing blunder for the Opposition Leader.
Yesterday, Rudd was the top friend on social networking site MySpace for Melbourne strip club Goldfingers, after his office accepted an offer in the morning for him to be a friend of the club.
Jack Marx’s talent, wit and readiness to suffer for his research should be a beacon for every young Australian writer. Oh, as far as I can tell he’s not political either, unless disturbing the Romper Stomper’s skirts is a form of activism. So Marx hits the imagination key and produces a very funny, clever hypothetical of Kev in Never Never-touch Land.
Kevin would have smelled her – the silky perfume, the hint of sweat, the musky other. Perhaps, out of sheer drunken instinct, he’d have reached up to touch, her finger shaking in front of his eyes, firmly, but seductively. She would have whispered a gentle admonishment; he’d have felt her breath in his ear, seen her naked breast become the universe in his eye. His glasses would have fogged to near zero visibility as she nestled her bosom on the crown of his head, her breasts as saddlebags over the man’s steaming ears. And, through the leaden swamp of drunkenness, to the sound of Tweet’s Oops Oh My, an erection would have creaked to life in the trousers of the future Australian Opposition leader.
Can’t have smart-arses attempting to make the Leader look even sillier, can we? So from Fairfax, it’s hit the road Jack.