Everyone's into smear these days - Conrad Black says it was smear that condemned him to the clink, our
Prime Minister claims that smear is behind the suggestion she hung around with backyard-cash-buriers.
And now, amazingly, it's our turn. We too have been smeared.
Not just us either - large parts of our neighbourhood have fallen victim. All down the side of the shops, under cover of darkness, someone spread a goo made of chicken (or possibly tuna) and some kind of orange creamy sauce, dotted with canellini beans, over the windows. Then they made their way down through the gardens, smearing the odd tree trunk and park bench, before reaching our driveway. And sitting there, what could be better for their purposes? A nice clean white car.
Gleefully, (I'm only guessing, but I don't think one does this kind of thing dourly) they started plastering gunk across its gleaming exterior, until, hey presto, the passenger door sprang open. Someone had left it unlocked, whoopee, what fun.
Smear, smear, smear, the front seat and much of the dashboard were soon splotched with beans and chicken (or tuna [whichever substance it was, the concoction smelt appalling]).
All I can say is that, after an hour and a half spent removing it, I am ready to take up the cudgels and join the Black/Gillard alliance in a crusade against smear in all its pungent forms.
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