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Straight from the greater world of icky ugliness to your personal space. Sorry about that.

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.




Turnbull gov euthanises Healthy Harold, Birmingham announces CPR successful.

Yesterday the robotic amputee giraffe formerly known as “Happy” announced his last song, or leant his last knowing, pneumatically-powered nod. Which is sad. An entire generation of school-kids treasured the visit of that chipper ruminant who travelled around the landscape getting us out of whatever was slated for the afternoon. You legend, you.

And while what we gleaned was perfectly summed up by this stoic Haraldite on Twitter…

…sadly it seemed the man/giraffe/whatever was to be consigned to memory, and indeed recollections when our children invariably ask us “How did you learn about alcohol and… ‘those’ bits?” Like many, we at The Big Smoke can proudly state that a stranger told us all of these things in a dark van, pretending to be something else. Rest in peace, right?

Well, like a searing, polyester-blend phoenix rising from behind a curtain, Harold was given a last-minute reprieve from the vet’s office, and the green dream, and apparently, will walk once more. Well, not walk, but you know what I mean. The person adopting Harold is Education Minister Simon Birmingham, who stated:

It is unsure whether Mr Birmingham has looked after a giraffe before, but seeing he’s in the saviour mood, how about saving the adult Healthy Harold equivalent: Medicare.


John McCain arrives in to patch waning relationship, won’t stay for dinner.

Ah, McCain, you’ve done it again…you’ve grabbed the balding, greying Eagle by the jaspers and yanked it down to cover a foreign land with its patriotic shriek. The former GOP nominee touched down in Australia for some reason or another, however, it’s suspected that the partner we’re having trouble with, America, sent him to talk some sense into us, to make sure we don’t leave. America loves you, you know.

Now, a man made of apple pie, denim grit and militaristic auspices there could not be. And while we like Mr McCain – he seems a nice man, and he was good enough to be beaten by Barack – it seems, well…a bit odd. As a guest in our country, please enjoy all we have to offer, you’re welcome to anything in our fridge, but don’t come around here and tell us how to run our relationships.

We’re not mad at you John, we’re mad a her for putting you up to this.


Song about Theresa May hits charts, radio refuses to play it, legitimising song further.

To be fair to the English people, they’ve suffered enough as of late. The words of a certain Scotsman tend to have reverberated for the last twelve months, that they’ve “fucked it”. Well, consider this the awkward conversation after the deed is done, just long enough for the endorphins to wear off, long enough to realise that the minutes you know have to share with that person are going to be unnecessarily grating. I give you Captain Ska’s anti-Theresa May joint, Liar Liar, which has rocketed into the top ten despite many stations in Blighty refusing to play it, which of course makes things go away. Lord.

I know what you’re thinking. Ska is fucking awful. The other point of contention I have is the radio stations deciding not to play it, with the television and radio regulator Ofcom standing behind “impartiality”. So clearly taste doesn’t walk alongside logic, as this was the same country that turned the Wealdstone Raider into a Number #1 hit.

From this:

Into this:

Just play the song, lads.

Mad respect for Gordon G, though. Also, for further information on the Wealdstone Raider, check out this quality clip.


The top five Tweets from overnight:


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