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#Auspol winners and losers: Who got served their just desserts?

Hopes dashed, new levels of dank and a stay of execution. It’s been a fairly bleak week. Hello, #Auspol my old friend.

 

 

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

Winners

Malcolm Turnbull, for finally finishing the entirety of the cake.

The marriage equality flan that Malcolm has long been cooking has taken many departures from the recipe. The method the rest of the globe takes as gospel has no place. Sifting through the dust blown cabinet, Mal quickly discovered that substituting the ingredients would be the way forward, and yes, while it’s now beyond edible definition, but at least we have something.

Yesterday, as the free vote-turned-plebiscite-turned-postal plebiscite-turned-postal survey evaded the forks of the High Court, Malcolm gleefully announced that we should all grab a plate, quickly tempered by the fact that he wouldn’t be having any.

 

 

Bill Shorten, for finding solace in the meme game.

Like taxes, death and lacking sexual performance, abject disappointment comes to us all. Personifying this pale fact of life is the leader of the opposite.

 

 

Yung Bill lifted admirably after his I don’t want to talk about it afternoon at work, highlighting a constant in the pointlessness of our existence.

Memes. Memes is all we have.

 

 

 

Losers

Lyle Shelton, for going to bed instead of doing his readings.

Lyle represents the tertiary antagonist that we’ve all been, and certainly derided behind their back. This week, Shelton wore the shoes of the student who turns up to a lecture and has absolutely no idea what it’s in reference to, so, to cover this lack of understanding, they waste time by raising issues superfluous to that particular discussion.

 

Do your homework, kids. Even if you spent the entirety of the previous evening heroically ingesting home brew in an effort to bamboozle anyone into sexual congress.

 

The human race, for being saved from nuclear annihilation.

…by Dennis Rodman. It’s a fairly valuable barometer of the current landscape of discourse when a man who was run out of an institution that valued his problems now represents the sole olive branch that links two nuclear armed ornery antagonists, keeping very bloated fingers away from very red buttons.

 

Just drop the bomb already.

 


Also on The Big Smoke


 

 

Honourable Mentions

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

Whoever surfed the highest crest of nuevo political dank, throwing a mirthful shaka to highlight their rad achievement. Surf’s up. From the depths of the Murray basin, feast your peepers on the definition of this platform, which is so well done, I’m not sure if it’s just awful, or deliberately awful. But it’s a nice problem to have, yeah?

 

 

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

The Canberra Press Gallery, for overindulging on low-hanging fruit.

They’re holding the things that will live as long as their political careers. The title of the day is fitting. They too are endangered. Get it?

All of the lols.

 

Come on now.

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