linguistic contortionism leave his predecessors well and truly in the shade. Barnaby's use of language goes beyond mere polly-speak. In fact, it goes beyond human communication of any kind. He taps into such a rich vein of bizarre imagery buried deep within his psyche that he produces speech the oral equivalent of a Salvador Dali or Hieronymus Bosch painting. This stream-of-unconsciousness oratory results in some of the most startling statements under the Herald-Sun ever to hit Hansard. For instance, when asked where he would find $3.2 billion in his budget to fund a climate change policy: "The Labor Party has just spent $1400 million. So I think I can find $3.2 (billion) from $1400 (million) I really do." However, if this idea is too quaint or outlandish for generation-Y, Barnaby has a simpler, if somewhat astonishing, solution: "The pink batts scheme. Maybe we could have found it there, but it is all up in the roof with the rats and mice urinating on it at the moment! But we can pull it back out to pay for our scheme!" I defy anyone to name another single individual in modern political history who has suggested paying for public policy with verminous, urine-stained roofing insulation. The man's a genius! And moreover, that genius is not bound by mere earthly matters, but spans worlds: ''We are giving $150 million to the World Bank. Fair enough. $50 million of that is to deal with the food inflationary aspects in the Third World. Well, why