Alright listen. It’s about time Australia as a nation addressed this, and I’m not one to speak up and force my opinion but enough is enough. As I’m sure most of you are aware, in 1932 the Australian government waged war on Emu’s in Western Australia. And though many were lost, through courage, valour and grim determination; the birds won. That’s right, we got flogged by some XXXL bin chickens. It’s probably the greatest loss in Australian history (apart from that time we lost our pm at the beach), and you should all be ashamed of yourselves. It cannot happen again. Never again can we allow a walking handbag to beat us at our own game: killing shit because we want to. And about now, you’re probably thinking- what’s this got to do with crocs and bob? Well listen here mate. Every three months in North Queensland, crocodiles question any democratic process and rip hard-working Australians to pieces for their own personal agenda. We didn’t ask for war, but it’s already started mate. And although I may have triggered a state of mania among you, don’t fret and crack a beer: for I have found the solution. Bob Bellarmine Carl Katter, leader of the Katter Party and former member of the Federal Government, has on at least seven occasions openly called one-outs on crocs on national television. But don’t be deceived by his seemingly care-free Aussie larrikin persona- he’s a home-brewed weapon of mass destruction mate. And with the upmost confidence, I declare that this gentleman will see us through a swift war, hence redeeming the Australian name and leaving us 1-1 with the native fauna. And for when this petition reaches parliament and war is officially declared on crocs, I have prepared three military strategies that may see our success.

1. In a sort’ve round robin event, we round up waves of crocs smallest to largest in an octagon and let Katter wrestle fuck them to the last croc standing; until they are shamed into exile and piss off back to the Congo.

2. We paint Clive Palmer green while he’s sleeping, water-log his bedroom, slap him around with a live barramundi a bit, and then leave the door ajar and exit the room; as Katter stealthily crawls in, passive aggressively muttering under his breath about farmers and the gays: ready to strike.

3. Wielding a XXXX gold in his left hand, and a plugger in his right, green and gold zinc like war paint across his furrowed brow, we unleash him in the ocean at Cairns to leave a trail of destruction across Northern Australia all the way to the Kimberley. 

Alright let me know if you have any other strategic ideas cos I’ll add them to the list, and please sign and share the petition. But be quick people; for the war is close to lost but far from won.