STRANGE POLITICS: Is Donald Trump an alien?
THERE he is propped up on his tail in Trump Tower, ravenously snapping his bacteria-addled lips as a three-fingered minder drops live quails down his gullet.
A couple of missing digits is not so bad. The last guy lost an arm. But he was just terrible. A real lightweight. A total loser and his wife was extremely unattractive.
That's right, folks: Donald Trump is an alien, or at the very least a high-functioning lizard person with some unexplained aversion to shedding his increasingly limp and jaundiced skin-suit.
I have done the maths and nothing else adds up. The orange-hued prospective leader of the free world ain't from around here. All that showboating about illegal aliens? Classic deflection.
His bizarre hand-waving, facial contortions and blatant disregard for normal human behaviour? Textbook actions of an extra-terrestrial overlord just barely managing to blend in.
Consider that declaration of physical normalcy when he assured voters: "My fingers are long and beautiful, as, it has been well documented, are various other parts of my body."
It is all just slightly off kilter. Heck, the Fluorescent Fuhrer ate KFC with a knife and fork the other day.
According to a 2005 article by paranormal phenomena expert Brad Steiger, who famously penned the 1991 piece 'Your pet may be a space alien', human food often confuses aliens living among us.
"They are particularly obvious at company barbecues and have been seen to put the bread on the inside of a sandwich," he bravely revealed.
"Pay particular attention to those who do NOT use ketchup."
Oh crap, this goes further than even I realised. Eleven years have passed since Steiger's ground-breaking revelation on alien food consumption shook the academic world and the ET top brass have obviously cottoned on.
Bill Shorten managed to get his sausage inside the bread on Election Day, but do you remember how he scoffed that democracy snag down? From the bread-heavy side, like a deranged lunatic - and I saw no evidence of sauce.
His second-in-command Anthony Albanese went swimming with an enormous saltwater crocodile this week in the Cage of Death at a Darwin crocodile farm. I challenge anyone to prove he and his fellow reptile were not simply meeting to discuss how to further infiltrate the Labor Party to execute their nefarious schemes. Tony Abbott eats raw onions, so his humanity is not even up for debate.
I am beginning to suspect Malcolm Turnbull is the only top-tier politician who still has hot blood coursing through his veins. He successfully blocked Uzanafaar the Smug (known locally as one Kevin Rudd) from becoming the UN's secretary-general.
And if you look back on Rudd's peculiar mannerisms and overcompensating references to the shaking of sauce bottles, it is a darn good thing he did. By Jove, these flying sorcerers are everywhere.