‘Tis Monday. The day of things you have to do that you don’t want to. Well, it could be worse, Donald Trump could be immortalised by the skills of William Shatner, or your famous dad could shame you on Twitter.
The North Koreans have pitched their humble country as a holiday destination for the Russian dollar. They’re promising the outdoors, party propaganda and subjugation of the working class. Could work.
Monday. Why. While you were unconscious the world span on, stepping us closer to nuclear crisis, Vlad moving out of Donald’s house and a lazy tie in of a brilliant TV show.
Hollywood descended on Canberra, an inexplicable promotion and the debut single from Alex Jones. It was a very stupid week in #AusPol.
The RMS #Auspol ran aground this week, scuttling the hope of marriage equality, relocating One Nation to Bangladesh and had its decks sullied by smut.
A missed court date, the death of comedy and a nonsensical sentencing all happened this week in AusPol. Plus Pauline. But we’ve ignored her.
An ironing of the big boy pants, a case of admirable stoicism and the world’s most foolishly-named cash cave. #AusPol, you’re not right in the head.
Well, fudge. Overnight we’ve had an elected official shot, comeuppance for crimes against photoshop and a burger going into space before any of us. Luckily our existence has no meaning.
Wednesday. The day that is like every other day. By the way, the Government’s welfare plan was knocked, a palatial mansion was sold in Mt Druitt and the Warriors chose to not come out and play.
Public holiday Monday. It doesn’t matter, because you’re all still asleep. Trump assassinated by lobster, Bill Cosby wins Nobel Prize, Katy calls for Swift peace action.
The first bricks of a hate wall, the stripping back of pretence and a picnic spoiled. Winners, all. Oh, #Auspol, what are you like?
Stupidity again dragged its feet over the landscape, with the Trump family not understanding society, Donald Glover killing a man and the people of New York getting petty as only they absolutely can.
Dour days be these. Especially because it’s only Wednesday. Alongside the news that an Australian was a victim of the London Bridge attack, one of Trump’s cabinet was flipped off in Wellington. Swings and roundabouts, innit?
Monday. Stay away from her, you bitch. Good news however, as a man and his pint saved London, John McEnroe entered the SSM debate and loyalty exists in the footballing world. We’re surprised too.
Judge Judy fantasies, inadvertent self-flagellation and a footrace to the bottom. Winners, all. However, in the harsh game of #AusPol, who secured their Internet legacy?
Thursday…the day where things happen. I guess. Two ancient enemies went to war, Trump broke it off with Europe (again) and Eminem admits to stealing ideas…from Jim Carrey! Coming in 2019, The Ace Ventura LP.
What a hot mess. The figure walking home in last night’s shoes is Tuesday who got too drunk to deal with the death of Harold, John McCain and a song about Theresa May hitting the charts.
Think of it this way: it’s one less Monday you have to face. Overnight, the nation discovered the status quo in Canberra, Theresa May’s dipping popularity and the merit of watching someone buy $300 worth of fake plants.
One Nation fell further into the deep fryer, we’ve had a spate of overindulgence on hate pie and the emergence of Canberra’s own caped crusader. But who could it possibly be?
Well bugger me with a fish fork, it’s Thursday. Huzzah. The world kept dying while you were recharging, which featured an argument at the estimates, Taiwan saying yes to gay marriage and an unholy clusterboink on ABC2.
Well, what a night it was. New facts came to light from Manchester, the great Roger Moore left us, and Donald Trump won more friends. Today is a bad day. Soz.
What do our Next Gen writers think about the London private school bringing in skirts for boys? From 10 to 18 years of age, students weigh in on a possible gender-neutral future.