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#AusPol winners and losers: Who had the best take on Barnaby’s baby?

A baby was showered in abject criticism, a failed audition and a fetid world record was served up this week in #AusPol. Who won? Who cares.



Politics is like that party you show up to, but the only person you know isn’t there yet. So, you awkwardly stand in the corner and try your best to look like you’re having fun. The music on-tap is the most overplayed remixes of 1990s glory day hits and the fridge is 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.

Woo, party.

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



Bob Katter, for proving that class is permanent.

Let’s be honest. We all thought (hoped) that Bob Katter jumped the shark (croc) with his may a thousand blossoms bloom viral tidbit. His next performance piece would have to be far more stupid to grab our attention, and to be fair, the stupidity reservoir was fracked up after that one.



However, our Bob has changed tack, shifting from Strasbergian monologue to Benny Hillian prop comedy, constructing a mountain of eye-diverting nonsense that we all secretly adore.

Why? Well, maybe there’s no reason. Maybe his art reflects the pointless nature of micro-commenting on the non-instances of politics instead of sticking to the issues, or maybe it’s because his future is so bright, Bob has to wear shades.



That, or he’s auditioning for the eventual for real Dundee reboot.




To be fair, he does know a lot about crocodiles.



Peter Dutton, for letting us in.

This week, Peter Dutton monkey wrenched the rustiest bolts off the valve within, allowing his waterworks to gush all over us. Ew.



Critics say the tears were made of crocodiles, or that we were forced to take the feels on good faith, as he cried on a non visual medium (radio), or that he only cried because he was empathetically told that he did the right thing; but ignore them, Peter. You had heart all along, Tin Man.

From here on out, expect to see a verryyy different Peter Craig Dutton around here. A man of nous, empathy and log–



— erm. Ye-uh. Yep.



Also on The Big Smoke



Tony Abbott, for putting Hollywood to shame.

These days, actors are a bit naff. Al Pacino just yells, Bob DeNiro just squints and Alf Stewart just internally combusts. They’re all flamin’ mongrels elevating inaccurate caricatures of who we are. The sad thing is this becomes the accepted standard, with the shit rolling all the way down the slope to that talentless unemployed relative of yours who has suddenly decided to dominate Hollywood, and will, but first guess who this.


However, any students of the human condition reading this should study this tableau. Picture the scene: You’re attending a function that you morally disagree with every fibre of your being. And you can’t leave. Leaving will merely see the function restart in another room. You’re stuck. Ok, action.

No, that was terrible. This is how you contempt:




The Australian Media and general public, for having the wrong take on The Bundle of Joyce.

This week birthed many takes on Barnaby’s baby. Polar opposites where settled. It was either very much our business, or it wasn’t. The doublestandard existed in parliament, or it existed in the press gallery. While some may believe that Barnaby Joyce abstaining to vote on marriage equality on the grounds of preserving the sanctity of his marriage while having an affair is the perfect metaphor, they’re wrong. We all are.

In fact, the only opinion worth paying attention to belongs to former Lib Troy Buswell (the dude who sniffed that chair that time), who dropped this heavy dose of objective truth on his Facebook page:





Honourable mentions

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

Nancy Pelosi, for her questionable record. Congratulations.

There a two types of records. The impressive kind, like Usain Bolt reversing the spin of the Earth to save Lois Lane, and the other types, that aren’t. Who cares for those people who flog themselves moronically over a ridiculous amount of time to earn a title no-one wants.

Step into the spotlight, Nancy Pelosi, the Democratic Lois Lame, who ostensibly hopped on one foot and went mwarmp for seven hours straight. Actually, it was a political speech, so it might have been longer.

It certainly felt like it.




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

Those who resisted the Lady Doritos, for slightly missing their critical mark.

This week those morons at Doritos (who manufacture an inferior corn chip, long may the CC reign) decided to release the “Lady Dorito” a low-crunch effort for the ladiez, because…well I’m not exactly sure why.

Suffice to say, the internet lost their shit, and most of the criticism was many shades of gold, however, one aggrieved party made a video in resistance that, well, as Agent 86 would put it, they missed it…by *that* much.




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