Just silly stuff for the silly season.

'Tis the season to be silly - in this neck of the woods, that season usually runs from Jan 1 to Dec 31 - but just how silly is this: The Magpie agrees with The Moaning Mullet on one particular end-of-year issue!

That little astounder will be revealed shortly, but otherwise, the old bird has made a departure from his usual drivel and has collected a few funnies sent to him in past months, all good for a holiday larf or two. 

It'll be back into the thick of things later in January, but for now, just in case you don't plough through to the end of this warmed-over offering, may both you readers have a great 2012, and may all those blundering pollies continue on their blusetring way - after all, they keep The 'Pie in business at www.townsvillemagpie.com.au

First, a couple of baubles for any word warriors out there. 

If you can bestir yourselves to click on the following links, you will find two of the best exposes of the language abuse of the last year - well worth a holiday read. Or as buzz-speak has it, good for you to 'internalise'. And did you know 'resources' - ie people - are no longer fired, but simply become victims of 'ecosourcing' - the latest coward's cryptic for giving your job to someone in India or the Philippines. And that's the least of it, take a gander here and here.

Part of one of the more bizarre end-of-year rituals was published in the Daily Astonisher today. The annual exercise of the paper's 'readership survey' was conducted a couple of months ago, ready to be used as pointless filler material over the slow (newswise) festive season. 

This is a highly questionable and virtually unregulated exercise of asking the ever-decreasing readership to answer a whole panoply of often loaded questions, the risible results aimed solely only at filling space. It is a yearly pantomime which prompts The'Pie to pinch the maxim of Scots writer Andrew Lang and suggest that The Astonisher uses this information much as a drunk uses a lamp post - not for illumination but for support (for its sagging sales and circulation). But the survey is much beloved by the paper's wailing Greek chorus of semi-literate letter writers and slack-jawed axe-grinders, who can - and probably do - send in multiple replies supporting whatever demented interest or self-interest they champion.

Using this clearly skewed non-information as hard news, The Astonisher prominently trumpeted that Clr Dale Last was a narrow favourite to become our next mayor (26%) with - wait for it - the goofy Jeff Jimmieson next (22.1%) and Jenny The Moaning Mullet Hill coming in third on 20.1%. Another 12% said they'd vote for McGeorge Allbran if he decided to run.

Now, the Jimmieson outcome, which must have had the three or four people likely to vote for him spending a fortune buying Bulletins and sending in multiple answers, was good for a rollicking roll around the floor of the nest. 

But somewhat disturbing for the old bird was that he found himself in complete accord with The Mullet.

After she trotted out the standard poll-loser's mantra: 'There is only one poll that counts and that's the one on polling day', our gal looked to be biting the hand that has so generously and lop-sidely fed her this year by pointing out why the results were worthless. She bluntly said surveys, particularly those conducted online, could be manipulated (no!?!) by people sending in multiple responses. 

'Let's face it, surveys can say a million things, especially when you do them online,' she said. 

In other words, this was an exercise in complete twaddle, and a conclusion that would never have seen the light of day under Typo Gleeson. In itself, it is no great revelation, but coming from The Mullet, a surprising but well-deserved kick in the cods for her greatest supporter nonetheless.

And that is all the political carry-on The Magpie intends for 2011. 

Here's a few pictorial matters to consider. Christmas may be over for all of us, but maybe it's over permanently for Santa.

Then there's the tricky question of not getting the exact present you wanted. This young lady will almost certainly be returning to the bicycle shop for a different coloured seat.

Looking ahead, a late year offering from the incomparable Larry Pickering anticipates what is sure to be one of the great on-going debates of the coming year.

All this will probably be of little interest to The Magpie, who has found a graph which sums up his shuffle towards old codgerdom.

Finally, although under protest from The 'Pie's nearest and dearest, possibly because it's a little bit norty, here a joke which one hopes makes you laugh.

                        THREE TOWNSVILLE SCHOOLFRIENDS 

  

Rachel, Clare and Samantha haven't seen each other since school. They rediscover each 

other via a reunion website and arrange to meet for lunch in Michel's on Palmer Street.

Rachel arrives first and orders a bottle of pinot grigio.
Clare arrives shortly afterward, in Sass & Bide. After the required ritualized kisses she joins Rachel in a glass of wine.

Then Samantha walks in, wearing a faded old T-shirt, jeans and boots. She, too, shares the wine.

 Rachel explains that after leaving Townsville Grammar and graduating from Queensland Uni Arts, she met and married Timothy, with whom she has two beautiful daughters.

Timothy is a partner at Connolly Suthers. They live in a large house in Yarrawonga, where Charlotte and Emma, their daughters stroll down to North Ward have their tennis lessons. They have a holiday house in Noosa and regularly ski in Canada.

Clare relates that she graduated from JCU Medicine and became an orthopaedic surgeon. Her husband, Edward, is a high profile investment banker.

They live in a Breakwater penthouse and have a holiday flat in Port Douglas.

Samantha explains she left school at 17 and ran off with her boyfriend, Ben. They run a tropical bird park in the Byron Bay hinterland and grow their own vegetables.

Samantha confides that Ben can stand five parrots, side by side, on his dick.

Half way down the third bottle of wine and several hours later, Rachel blurts out her husband is actually a bank teller at Commonwealth Bank. They live in a small house in Garbutt and have a caravan for their holidays at Balgal Beach.

Clare, chastened and encouraged by her old friend's honesty, explains that she and Edward are both nurses' aides in the Rowes Bay RSL retirement home. They live behind Stockland and take holiday camping trips to Paluma.

They both turn to Samantha, waiting for her revelation.

Samantha finally admits that the fifth parrot has to stand on one leg.

HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YOU ALL.