The death of an unpopular popular vote, a man re-broke Bad and there was a series of rather unfortunate clusterboinks. So, who won Auspol this week?
Politics, as we know, is a game of inches, where the size of one’s…policy…matters. An arena where the laurels of victory are doled to those who can speak longest, those who can completely avoid answering questions in their allotted time. In our PM’s case, 12 months (and counting). Nevertheless, the vague, albeit magnificent nutcasery flipped down the corridors of power makes it hard to chart a winner. But, we here at TBS Towers don’t play that. Up with this, we shall not put. We voted, so, thusly, we want a result, not just a lesser of the two whomever showed up to work until 2019.
Welcome to the weekly traipse through the mucky-muck to elevate the arm of those who fought to the bottom of the oozing pit of political discourse in this fine land.
The plebiscite: for finally being at peace. Watching the slow march of the plebiscite has been very much like watching an oak table fall down a flight of stairs. The long-trumpeted towering ALP narrative that promised the heart of the snarly tooth’d conservative dragon turned out to be the height of fiction. This week noble Sir Bill, squires in tow, placed a pillow over its enfeebled scaly lizard face for the good of Camelot, and perhaps too, for its own good. In the face of such pitiful execution, it seemed almost to drag us from the safety of our emotional battlements, solemnly registering the passing of a vote that no-one really wanted.
Goodnight sweet pleb-prince, there’s no more discussion where you are now.
The Big Smoke can exclusively release footage taken from the parliamentary security tapes the moment Bill killed the bill.
Mike Baird: for getting his groove back. Return of the Mike, it is. To some, Mike Baird is the shark from Jaws. A tiger. A five-footer. The man with lifeless eyes, black eyes like a doll’s eyes. You can’t reason or bargain with him, you just need to seek a larger vessel of collective hatred, preferably whilst roping in an enfeebled social outcast to try and snag him, before he is in turn devoured, by the growing sea of private enterprise and bending of the agreed upon rules (steady on – Ed). However, Baird returned to normalcy this week, overturning his sweeping ban of the greyhound racing industry and reclaiming his label as “the man you love to hate” in the process.
Baird’s backflip gave them the head, the tail the whole damn thing.
Before the point that the shark blew up, those who hated him, lets call them “the Left”, still shook their fists at Bingo Michael with a twinkle in their eye, a confused look upon their anti-Bairdy beardy faces. Now those who rise at questionable times in the morning can do so, warm in the knowledge that no matter what the afternoon has in store, they can rail against Baird with a clear conscience.
Continuity is a beautiful thing, and for that feeling, they must point their thumbs toward Baird. But not in support, God no, that’d start the whole thing over. Treat him as Jerry does Newman, a necessary foe.
Welcome back, Michael.
Pauline Hanson: for bagging a seat on the NBN Committee. Collective ire once more rained down upon the el Caballo Blanco of #AusPol this week, as General Disgust rolled through the front door of One Nation HQ, with guns drawn and shoulders shrugged looking for an explanation prior to levelling the joint. The General Denutian Vibe (different military officer metaphor) post announcement was that Pauline must have stepped to the conservative Right, or planted an ouija board on the floor of parliament and asked the ghost of Keith Windschuttle to grant her but one Christmas wish. (He’s not dead, and that’s not how that Dickens book went – Ed.)
However, what we’re missing here is empathy for Pauline, for the move boils down to this:
- Step one: Take a senator that most people hate.
- Step two: Let her run something that everyone hates.
- Step Three: ?
- Step Four: Profit-ularity.
Remember this, readers: not everybody hates Muslims, and not everybody hates Pauline, but everyone hates shitty Internet speed.
Kelly O’Dwyer: for endorsing a bill that criticised the doings of her party. Oh, Kel. We all make workplace mistakes, in fact one could drag value from how brilliantly one can verbally tap dance out of our missteps. However, our accidental liberation of Rob’s chicken marsala pales slightly in comparison to O’Dwyer’s gaffe, which inadvertently undid 115 years of political precedent, when she endorsed an amendment from the Shadow Treasurer. What was the topic of the amendment? “…(for the Coalition) to explain why it has failed to close tax loopholes and increase transparency in Australia.”
Dearie doggy doo.
Unfortunately, the proceedings carried over to Thursday afternoon’s Question Time, where she was pressed by the ALP on the issue, before exceeding her time limit, and wringing this response from the Speaker:
— Lane Sainty (@lanesainty) October 13, 2016
The “Golden Emerson” – awarded to those who waste everyone’s time with complete verbal tosh, goes to:
The NSW Upper House: for popping a true Emersonian moment worthy of the man himself. On parliamentary time, *cough* our taxes, the upper house (the bigger one), decided to table a motion, and a vote which deemed Presidential Candidate (and hayfever victim) Donald Trump as a “revolting slug” unfit for office.
The motion passed unanimously.
Worthy to note: a) well, duh and, b) after some double-Googling, I was still sadly unable to find what US district the NSW upper house falls under.
The “Bushie” – the George W Bush commemorative plaque to honour outstanding performance in the field of trumpeted “fact”, goes to:
Jim Molan: for claiming on QandA that most Australian towns “would give their right arm” for the medical facilities on Nauru. In the same segment, he openly admitted that he had never been to Nauru.
“Rekt”, as the kiddies say.
To close this week, let’s finish with something fairly important. Can you name the owners of these four political crocodiles?