TBS Newsbot

#AusPol winners and losers: Who cost gryffindor all their points?

A utopia inadvertently created, a complete lack of ambition and a Hogwarts drop out all feature in this week’s traipse down #Auspol’s halls.



Every Friday, your trusty commentators at The Big Smoke review the most lauded plays in the game of AusPol from the week previous. Passionate? Unquestionably. Conniving? Undoubtedly. But it’s not about that. Headlines need to be made and an audience needs to be entertained. So, are you not entertained?

Oh, I haven’t started yet.

My name is apologetic.



Fred Nile – for inadvertently coming up with a great idea.

To be honest, Fred Nile has a rap sheet longer than his biblical robes. Australia’s premier doomsayer has been talking gospel jive since the middle seventies, where his Genesis warned of the rapture enabled by a freeing of sexual restrictions, which unfortunately didn’t happen. Suffice to say, we’re once again knee deep the Nile’s murky river of stupidity. Or are we?


That being said, much like the broken clock of yore, Fred has correctly told what time it is. Considering the amount of flak the gay community has copped as a result of this plebiscite/postal vote/opinion poll, I don’t rightly blame them if they choose to set up their own Jerusalem.

I, for one, would love to visit. If they’d have me.


Nameless journalist – for exhibiting grace under pressure.

We’ve all been there. Flung into the uncaring arms of a work event. One that you would never attend given the choice, but the faceless nabobs of middle-management believe it to be ‘a good opportunity for you’, so you agree, but you soon realise that it was merely a lie to make sure someone attends. So, the only way to proceed is apathy mixed with enthusiasm. But…only the latter is used sparingly. Like when someone is watching, or finishes talking.



Also on The Big Smoke



Malcolm Turnbull – for having low expectations.

Look, I love low expectations. In fact, it was my mum to instructed me to embrace them. Expect less, achieve more she told me on the morning of her third wedding. So, I absolutely get it as a social construct. But, considering the importance of the marriage equality question, claiming that a 57% turnout is an acceptable pass mark is well, not majorly major.


Come on, man.


JK Rowling – for being unable to understand the magical world of irony.

Here’s an unpopular opinion. I don’t rate JK Rowling as a political commentator. I mean, if the world needs another a tween-teen-twentysomething magical romp where an orphan gives no fucks for the rules while dealing with childhood celebrity, she would be the only one we should call. But as for legitimate hot political takes, nah. Just because you possess 12.8 million death eaters on Twitter, that doesn’t make your views valid/you Trump’s Voldemort.


JK, we don’t need another author lost to the turgid swirling mass of Twitterised discourse.

We yearn for an escape from it. Pick up that quill, Rowling.

Accio sequel?


Honourable mentions

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

Rex Tillerson – for taking it back.

Even if he didn’t say it, the rest of the world did.


Having to take back what we’re all saying/thinking/building journalism careers on is a bitter spill to have to regurgitate on the congress floor.

It’s fine, Rex.

We know the truth. Even if it’s not the truth.




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

It couldn’t be anyone else. Donald Trump – for, pretty much everything this week.

Good lord. Choose your own misadventure.

Option A) Trump flinging paper towels at Hurricane victims like a pale, heavily drugged Kobe Bryant. 

Option B) His apathetic response to the Las Vegas shooting.

Option C) Informing homeless people without power or water that they’re problems have impacted the budget of the richest country in the world.

Trick question. They’re all winners.

In a horrible, final scrape-of-humanity’s-barrel kind of way.

See you next week. Unless we’re all killed.

Fingers crossed.