While you were asleep: ScoMo named in doc leak, Zlatan to move to LA, Tom to play Mr Rogers

Tuesday. The only day left at the nightclub when the lights come on. Overnight ScoMo was revealed to be not nice, Zlatan returned to his home planet and Tom Hanks rang around for quotes to re-do his kitchen.



Documents claim Scott Morrison deliberately delayed the citizenship process for asylum seekers.

Oh, ScoMo. In documents recently leaked (which, in a paperless society, has a vintage charm), the then immigration minister prompted his secretary to write to ASIO to delay security checks so that people close to being granted permanent protection would miss out. According to the document, this would mean that those refugees about to start their permanent life in Australia would only be citizens for three years.



The number of asylum seekers was apparently anywhere up to 700. However, I fear there’s something else afoot. You see, this outrageous piece of political cockwaffle apparently occurred back in 2013. Combine this with another piece that emerged yesterday, when it was discovered that Tony Abbott wanted to remove welfare from everyone under 30 in the 2014 budget, you do tend to wonder if there’s a concerted sleight of hand afoot. I mean, all credit to the ABC for running it, we all would, but someone had to leak the documents, right? Why is the past now suddenly an issue?


Zlatan Ibrahimovic to leave Manchester for a place where he’s very much like everyone else.

A greater union there could not be. Zlatan Ibrahimovic, the footballer who refers to himself in the third person, is set to travel to Los Angeles, a city of angels who repeatedly tell you that they certainly are. Heaven is a turmeric bar on earth.



Zlatan is a bit of a misnomer in the world of sport, which is to say, he’s exactly that bully you disliked in high school, you know the one, the one who thought he was great, and he was, and gave you shit for not being him. For not being Zlatan. Sadly, those daydreams you dreamt in Maths, in that the cosmos would dole out karma, and one day you’ll be his superior, are fiction. The douchebags get richer, and the rest of croak our last unheralded, surrounded by bric-a-brac we’ve massed to make ourselves feel rich. This is how the world ends. Not with a bang, but with the chime of a Cuckoo clock.


American institution miscast as American institution.

Goddamn it, Hollywood. Tom Hanks, the least actor-y actor in that town, a man who ostensibly just plays himself most of the time, that genial, slightly histrionic dude you can (but shouldn’t) leave your wife with it set to bag more of that beaucoup biopic spondoolage, as he is set to fill the cowboy boots of an American institution – Mr Rogers.



Which is a damn shame. Kenny Rogers has a certain flair that Tom just doesn’t have. That snake-hipped sashay of utter desperation, when he’s either fording islands and streams, or succumbing to his chronic poker addiction, knowing that he should walk away from the table, but alas, he’s unable to, because he doesn’t know when to fold ’em.

I mean, shit. Who’s going to play Dolly Parton? Meg Ryan? Ha!

I just walked in to see what condition your condition was in Hollywood, and it’s not great, hey.



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