#AusPol winners and losers: Who cared not for Abbott’s tone?

Approx Reading Time-11Tony embraced millennial life advice, satire was bested with Nazi paraphernalia and Centrelink’s awkward nickname was revealed. What a week in #AusPol.




Every Friday, your trusty commentators at The Big Smoke review the most lauded plays in the game of Australian politics 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?



Tony Abbott, for discovering the concept of Yolo.

In lieu of the celebrity deaths of 2016 that goosed conversation on social media, we have the return of that meddling, cage shaking ghoul, former-PM Tony Abbott. And much like the collective swinging of the scythe last year, Tony’s antics have us quickly running out of superlatives, and forcing those with keyboards to expose their lesser metaphors.

Emanating from the Tone Dome this week are two soundbites that could be extrapolated in many harmful ways. The wind is at his back, our criticism drowned out by the la la la chorus of a man who has no fucks to give. He’s playing with the house’s money; nothing to lose.

Although, if Tone gets his wish and reclaims the Prime Ministership, he’ll know that he’d have to backbench the insanity. Subtext: enjoy it while it lasts.


The Australian Conservatives, for picking the correct number of candidates.

There’s only so much eye fucking the human iris can process, and because of that, there are victims of our evolutionary limitations. The pages of the human experience are filled with such examples. Ringo Starr. Benny Andersson. John Densmore. Clancy Wiggum. Victims of circumstance, victims of our attention, victims of being just one too many. Fortunately, the OzCons know this, so they’ve announced the new party roster will be sticking to the noble rule of thirds following this week’s merger with the Family First party:

That or they could only find two others in the Senate to join them.

Either or.


Also on The Big Smoke



Mark Ellis, for outdoing the satirists.

It’s a shame that the recently departed One Nation candidate is no longer with us, for he’s achieved something seldom seen in this country. Ellis, clearly possessing his doctorate in the Crocodile Dundee school of oneupmanship (You call that an aimed shot at our values? This is an aimed shot at our values), is able to scoff at the pithy attempts at humour at his expense and give the nation something far worse, following up a frankly piss-poor application of Fake Twitter accounts and attempted mirth…

…with an image from the nether-realms of his Facebook:

As far as self-destruction goes, it’s a moustache on the lip and a luger in the mouth away from perfection.


Centrelink, for burning every bridge they see.

Being despise by the huddled, desolate masses is one thing (after all, one can just close the ivory and whale skin curtains and crank the Mussorgsky up to a sensible 8), however, to have those who look just like you turn their backs at the sight of you, that must be a robo-kick to the jaspers.

So it goes according to Laura Tingle of the Australian Financial Review who unearthed this tidbit:

The only problem is his department does not have a good reputation among its fellow bureaucrats who rather unfortunately refer to it among themselves as Sexy Fingers (as in ‘they f*** everything they touch’).

Completely unrelated, here’s Alan Tudge holding up the Turnbull Gov’s welfare card.



Also on The Big Smoke


Honourable mentions

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

Malcolm Turnbull, for his economics 101 lecture.

This week our noted PM and fiduciary wiz, Mally T, took to a press conference (which you could assume was a bit of a pain for the man himself), adorned in fluoro orange to explain both types of debt to the numb populace. He’s a syllable away from an eye roll.

So, the costs involved with the NBN which put us on par with El Salvador’s connection speed, is a good debt.

Fair enough.


“The Bushie” – the George W Bush commemorative plaque to honour outstanding performance in the field of trumpeted “fact” – goes to:

Andrew Laming, for wanting to change the national anthem.

Coattails: the best means to ski up the mountain of political relevance. This week, Andrew Laming (what do you mean, “who?”) took umbrage with the song that we sing to display how proud we are of being lazy, and no, we don’t know the second verse, and yes, fuck you.

However, the new please explain calibre buzzword around Canberra is Australian values, and because of that, Laming has decided the Australian anthem isn’t Australian enough.

Citing the values of larrikinism, grit, ignoring the missus’ phone call down the pub, the ability to rip a sick burnout, casual racism, hungover drive thru missions, and getting the job done right or quickly (well, the first one), Laming is pushing to immortalise what makes us… us… back in the halycon days of the bicentennial past.


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