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#AusPol winners and losers: Who couldn’t stop their leak?

The appearance of a red hunting hat, a tapped call to red China and a red herring fished from a croc’s mouth headlined #AusPol this week. So, who won?

 

 

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, who won?

 

Winners

Sam Dastyari, for proving that the classics never go out of style.

Everyone knows about Deepthroat. You know, that storied snitch who forever had his legacy ruined by an adult entertainer that decided to skip lunch. Despite this, the faceless moaning spectre of vintage yesteryear still looms high over the twin towers of political journalism, as the shades of Watergate (which would be a rad band name) crept over Canberra this week, catching out Senate memelord-elect Sam Dastyari.

 

 

You know what. We’re unsure who released the tape to the media, and it’s probably a smokescreen to deflect from other issues, but politics is very much like a stir-fry, sometimes all you need is to add a leek(sic) in order to make it suitable for public consumption.

 

Also, Shanghai Sam, Channel 9? 

See me after class.

 

 

Malcolm Turnbull, for keeping it real.

Last week, we honoured our Prime Minister for staying true to his roots, and not bothering to Google an AC/DC track when put on the spot. Nor should he. You like what you like. Don’t front.

Anyway, Canberra’s own Holden Caulfield continued his lonely crusade against phoney-ism (but, crucially, not PHON) this week by enduring something that all politicians truly despise: hob-nobbing with the electorate.

Typically, the most terrific liar we’ve ever seen handled it in the correct way.

 

In the words of Holden, which you can easily transport to Malcolm: “I am always saying “Glad to’ve met you” to somebody I’m not at all glad I met. If you want to stay alive, you have to say that stuff, though.”

Respect.

The comparison is a good one, as he’s also standing on the edge of a cliff attempting to stop his cabinet from plunging to their deaths, all while trying to maintain the antiques of yesteryear under the glass case of suspended parliament.

 

 

 

 


Also on The Big Smoke


 

 

Losers

Milo Yiannopoulos, for not checking himself, prior to him wrecking himself.

Now, the central pickle is that Milo hails from a land where even if you dislike a politician, you still respect the office, or indeed the processes that put them in place. American politics is a whirling nonsense place populated solely by swings and roundabouts. A feeling of, well it’s your turn now, but we’ll get our chance, and it’ll be great. But, hey, I respect your view.

Down here, we don’t really play that. The greatest political antagonist we have is the one in power, closely followed by the opposition leader. They’re both fucking useless and have no clue, regardless of whether they do or do not. Public servants to us are merely well-paid slackers who are beneath us.

So, Milo’s promise to start some trouble was met with scoffed derision. And rightfully so. You probably should have used the flight to do your homework. We recently honoured Jacqui Lambie, an Islamophobe who was kicked out of parliament, who upon her entry to the public office promised to be worse than Pauline Hanson.

There’s also this.

 

Do your worst, dingus.

 

 

Malcolm Turnbull, for going the full cuck.

You again? Man.

The Banking Sector is exactly like the philandering spouse, as the big four continue to fuck everyone except for Mal. Which is a problem. You see them going out (on a weeknight no less), you both know what the score is, so you say nothing. The cat has your tongue, so you leave the bathroom. However, they follow you down the hall, screaming admonishment, blaming you for their adultery, asking you why you didn’t care enough to stop them from doing it in the first place.

 

Ugh. Marriage is hard.

 

 

 

Honourable mentions

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

Slobodan Praljak, for failing to understand the concept of irony. Or justice.

Praljak was convicted war criminal, and I say was because he publically drank poison in the Hague after his appeal was rejected. How he makes this list (and please don’t haunt me, Slobodan), was his final words, where he claimed he was innocent.

 

 

In the same tone as Milhouse aimed at Bart after discovering Santa’s Little Helper ate his fish, if you were innocent, why did you drink the poison, Slobodan, why did you drink the poison?

Yes, the brevity. And yes, a man is dead. But, the Hague found him guilty of doing the same, or overseeing the same dose to many more than himself. Just sayin’

 

 

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

The Australian Broadcasting Corporation, for removing the jam from my eclair.

If our existence was a plant, it’d be the cactus. There’s value kept safe behind a wall of prickles, a wall safely located in the middle of the desert. The reason why we can’t have nice things is that we don’t deserve to have nice things. I know this, but I just wanted this one to be true.

 

The horror.

 

 

 

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