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#AusPol winners and losers: Who passed off someone else’s homework as their own?

A towering self-own, a motorcycle on a stage and a rather awkward fact we all have to accept. It was a rather odd week in #AusPol. Who won? Who cares.



Politics is like that social junket you show up to, where the only person you know isn’t there yet. So, you awkwardly stand in the corner and try your best to look serious. The music on-tap is the most overplayed remixes of 1990s glory day hits and the fridge is only filled with bitter. Eventually, the owner of the house kicks everyone out before it gets rowdy, or anyone has a chance to explore the upstairs bedrooms with a stranger, and thusly no-one can figure out if they had fun or not. Or in the case of politics, cannot chart a true winner or loser.

But we at The Big Smoke are a results-focused bunch, thus, here are this week’s #AusPol winners and losers.


Malcolm Turnbull, for being a man of his word.

Yes, we may not agree with his methods, or the harm he caused, or his own legacy he ruined, but by Jove, you went and did it, you magnificent bastard you, just like you said you would. Don’t @ me. Way back in June of last year, Mal floated marriage equality as an election promise. And yes, the issue was more nuanced than that, but in the years to come, will we remember the hurt it caused or the love it enabled more?


I’m unsure.

However, what I certainly am sure of, is that no-one will remember that Mal kept his word, and an election promise at that.

Congratulations, Mr Turnbull.

That being said, you probably shouldn’t have claimed it.






Malcolm Roberts, for reminding us that a diamond is forever.

Like anything worthwhile, such as a bill ignored, or a marriage that fell apart, Malcolm Roberts has a unique knack of remaining in your life, despite him long elapsing his used-by date. What makes his case unique, is that his material never gets old. He truly is the gift that keeps giving. Even if that gift is ulcers and a fast retreating hairline.

All hail Malcolm, First Lord of the Self-Own.





Also on The Big Smoke



Our labouring discourse, for enduring too many cups of Milo.

Spoiler alert, more than one is too much. And yes, I’ll admit, we’re a varied country of many varied views, and that’s more than ok. Different strokes, and all. However, stamping Milo’s passport made us all look like geese. On both sides.




Perhaps the true definition of Milo’s unique flavour comes from the Twitter of Bec Shaw, who birthed this superb zinger:




The crowd in the House of Reps, for spoiling a golden moment with tin awkies.

Alright. Own up. Who did it? Who started the first bars? Who followed that person? And who followed that person who followed the others. I want answers. Whether we agreed on what the question was, or how it was asked, or not, yesterday was a historic day, and the thing about historic days, is that people tend to remember.

Sadly, the tune that will forever accompany that moment is the same one from the QANTAS ad.


Shame, that. Surely something more fitting could have been blasted in those moments of impulse? Surely, if there was a moment that was made for CeCe Peniston’s seminal club banger ‘Finally’ surely that would have been it.


Now, *that* would have been a moment worthy of the moment.


Honourable mentions

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

Barnaby Joyce, for his re-entrance to parliament.




I mean, let’s call it for what it was. We were one palomino short of Barnaby going the full Lady Godiva route, and if he did, I’m absolutely certain that Barn, dangling tadgers and all, would have garnered an equally warm return.


No wonder we don’t trust politicians.



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

The Daily Telegraph, for maintaining their aesthetic.