Fake News is a lot like a relation who fell down the stairs and has never been right since. You don’t believe them, but you don’t say anything, because they make Christmas lunch tolerable.
While you were unconscious things went very bad indeed. The Fidget Spinner crossed the final frontier, Donald Trump did something, and one Texan stole $1.2 million dollars worth of Fajita.
Good moleman to you. Overnight we saw the rise of the political millennial in Austria, Hillary Clinton absolutely destroy her ex, and the expulsion question shifted ever closer to Woody Allen’s doorstep.
The creator of the Facebook thumb sensationally walked away from his creation this week, citing grave moral concerns. Which is all well and good for him, but what about us?
The celestial evolution of hate, a fool representing another and Malcolm Roberts’ best barnacle impersonation. #Auspol, you’re not good for me. But I like the way you make me feel.
While you were resting those peepers, Lindsay Lohan looked to revive her career, Vladimir Putin stepped ever closer to the big day, and one college student chose lame 90’s nostalgia over everything else.
Ugh, my head. While you weren’t present, Tim Cahill revealed our footballing entitlement, Seth Rogen’s mum hunted him on Twitter, and Donald Trump still can’t let the moron thing go. A rose by any other name, right?
There’s a theme that links all these pieces together. See if you can spot it. Donald Trump continues to stew over the ‘moron’ comment, Harvey Weinstein was terminated and Rick & Morty fans acted their age.
The Internet is a place not unlike purgatory. Except far more boring. Welcome back to the tepid pool of fake news. Don’t drink the water.
As it turns out, there’s a downside of being engaged to Kit Harrington. You might just find his decapitated head in a fridge. I’d still go there.
Monday morning. I have no metaphor for your ugliness. By the way, Mike Pence left an NFL game in a huff, the anti-independence movement spoke back in Spain and a marsupial entered a race for people.
Hooley dooley what a week it was. We saw yet more details emerge from Las Vegas, the marriage equality question get more personal, and yet more fire in the booth.
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.
It’s almost the weekend. Almost. Before you start counting the hours, you should know that love doesn’t exist, Theresa May should have stayed in bed, and jolly old Saint Nick vacays in Turk-ay.
Good morning, gorgeous. While you were dozing, Trump met the people of Puerto Rico, one gun manufacturer benefitted from Las Vegas, and Jared Leto committed career seppuku.
Public Holiday Monday. You have a beautiful face. Elsewhere, things are not so hopeful, as the Catalan referendum got ugly, Justin Trudeau got sexier and Paris got fit.
I hope you like abject insanity on your toast, as Donald Trump sledged Hurricane survivors, Hugh Hefner ensured his legacy, and we went to war over Macklemore.
An op-shop formal, a rainbow bullet in the foot and a blunt attempt to hang with the cool kids all found themselves in the pit of #Auspol this week. So, who won?
Call it bullying if you must, but let’s all point and laugh at America. A dog was elevated to the status of a god, Tom Cruise was picked on for his physique and a notable antagonist returned.
Good morning, gorgeous. In the interim of your consciousness, Twitter ruined everything, we stepped closer to understanding the damaged minds of athletes and LeBron James couldn’t let go of the past.
Monday. I dislike your face. Sydney Airport lead the criticism against this morning by staying in bed, the German far-right nursed sore heads and Shane received a warning from the Internet. Warne-ing. Get it?
A 1960’s throwback from a 1960’s throwback, a charitable drive enabled by spite and some really disappointing foreplay. #Auspol, what’s wrong with you?