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#Auspol Winners and Losers: Who’s hand brazenly grasped our jewels?

One instance of getting medieval, the elimination of two enemies and a brazen attempt to fondle the national jewels. Pretty standard, #Auspol. For shame.

 

 

Every Friday, The Big Smoke announces the winners and losers of the nation’s most brutal form of competitive entertainment. So who emerges victorious from the #AusPol arena this week? The discourse! She burns.

 

Winners

Lyle Shelton, for drawing the next in his series of very long bows.

#Auspol’s very own Battle of Agincourt has raged again. Nowhere near content to twist a mysterious (that turned out to not be that mysterious) burning van into an effigy of victimisation, this time he’s aimed his crosshairs (which I’m assuming looks like a cross) at the upcoming (maybe) legalisation of same sex marriage0; warning us of the baleful ills of the shared bathroom.

 

Presumably, the Sheltons have gender specific slit trenches at home. That being said, I’m not entirely sure of the connection, but as far out hyperbole goes, I’m smelling what he’s shovelling.

 

Brian Burston, for taking down two immortal enemies: Sharia law and the rules of grammar.

BB is the oft forgotten member of One Nation. While the rest threaten xenophobic action, with gums and spurious statistics aflame, Brian bides his time. Much like the diminutive Yakuza hood of The Simpsons fame, you know he’s going to do something, and you know it’s going to be good.

And by good, I mean fucking awful.

 

Well done taking down the evil backwards construct of the apostrophe, Brian. Our kids will thank you. Any chance your next fatwa can remove the distinction between ‘your’ and ‘you’re. Cheers.

Your alright.

 

 


Also on The Big Smoke


 

Losers

Gina Reinhart’s artistic courage, for being buried under a quarry of criticism.

As the artistic square one maxim goes: write what you know. Gina knows iron ore, so it stands to reason that her debut sonnet would cover that topic, although in this case, it literally covers the boulder with a nifty brass plaque.

 

Now, poetry should never be read aloud (particularly if it’s yours), but the stanza below shows true blue collar grit, and a lively voice:

Is our future threatened with massive debts, run up by political hacks

Who dig themselves out by unleashing rampant tax

The end result is sending Australian investment growth and jobs offshore

This type of direction is harmful to our core.

As for Editorial suggestions, Gina, it’s good, but poetry doesn’t have to rhyme. I’d suggest you focus your anger on the page, and let it tell the story, instead of worrying about sticking to a format.

Elsewhere, the criticism was not nearly as constructive, with Professor Dennis Haskell, who was tasked to critique it for the ABC, did exactly that.

 

How’s she supposed to grow as an artist, guys?

 

Tony Abbott, for his first class Titanic thinking.

Shamefully, it’s taken me this long to figure it out. Tony Abbott is our Billy Zane from Titanic. To him, the poor don’t exist, and the order of lifeboat etiquette is set. He knows that when the RMS Turnbull collided with the iceberg of same sex marriage, he knows that half the voices in Australia will be drowned out, but not the better half.

The prize he seeks, the glinting blue jewel of 66-carat coalition support sits in the jacket pocket Malcolm ran off with, but it’ll soon be his.

Unless he politically kills himself in the epilogue.

 

Honourable mentions

The Golden Emerson – awarded to those who waste everyone’s time with complete verbal tosh – goes to:

The Producers of Sharknado 3 – for presenting us with an alternate timeline.

According to the Hollywood Reporter, Donald Trump was in line to appear in Sharknado 3: Oh Hell No! (actual title) as, get this, the President of the United States, before Donald about faced and decided to become the Prez-proper. So, yes. Since the election, we’ve been looking for a single figurehead to blame. Well, consider Sharknado 3 as good as any. It represents a fork in the road which leads to the buzzing boulevard of palpable neg vibes, shuttling us onto the pleasemakethepainstop memorial expressway.

 

The Secret Verbs and Spicers for the sauciest, most regret-inducing piece of fried hyperbole each week goes to:

The nation of New Zealand, for such a blatant piece of online fakery.

Surely this didn’t actually happen. Lies. All Lies.

 

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