Sam Dastyari, could have a shorter time in Parliament than he hoped for after he demonstrated a Persian style of pocketing cash for comment. No, not the John Laws or Alan Jones type of cash for comment... it’s much worse than that!
Bill Shorten only indulges in the politics of opportunism and there are more serious issues afoot than his lousy poll figures compared to Albanese's. Treasurer Morrison and Turnbull should present a Bill (hidden among their omnibus of Bills) legislation that outlaws deficit spending. If passed, it will not immediately repair the debt but will stem further deficit blowouts that appear certain during this Parliament.
PM Turnbull, sporting his usual forced smirk, suggested yesterday he may have to resort to a joint sitting to get his legislation through. Fair dinkum, what the hell does he think a joint sitting will compose of that he doesn’t already have to contend with now?
It must be great being a pessimist. When you always expect the worst, surprises are usually pleasant ones. Little wonder then that pessimism is so popular.
A young British girl, Ms Ayliffe-Chung was stabbed to death yesterday at a Townsville hostel allegedly by a French fruit picker. Multiple witnesses said he was yelling “Allahu akbar” (God is great). She was described as being an “infectiously happy” girl by devastated co-workers at a Gold Coast nightclub.
There is only one Australian Prime Minister who has no blood on his hands, who has knifed no-one and leaked on no-one. From Gorton and Billy McMahon to Malcolm Turnbull, including all Labor leaders in between, a torrent of blood has flowed from the slippery corridors of power. It is as if no-one has the right to be an Australian Prime Minister without having first conducted a bloody coup.
The Lindt Cafe siege inquest report has done little more than dictate that Special Weapons and Tactics teams are needed for lunatic Muslims set free by lunatic magistrates. There was a lot of shaking of heads when the live telecast of the Lindt Cafe siege showed the dangerous ineptitude of the police.
I have lit a fire with two pieces of wood, so I can claim to be an Aborigine, right? Yep, but I needn’t have bothered with the two pieces of wood. Australia’s definition of an Aborigine is whether you decide to ethnically identify yourself as an Aborigine... and it’s racially unlawful for anyone to question your decision.
Are you a good person? It’s okay, you don’t have to answer that question. I already know the answer. Of course you are a good person. You never lose your temper except when people (or inanimate objects) annoy you. You had that girl in the office in tears the other day but that was her fault. She should have returned your pencil on time. You never hit your wife... when she cooks dinner right. Hard but fair, that’s what you are.
The Liberal Party believes it has, for the moment, cleansed itself of its Right, but the Labor Party can never hope to cleanse itself of its Left. It is financially dependent on a corrupt union base for survival.
If you’re one of the many who were forced to drink rancid third pints of milk at school then you, like me, have probably been turned off cow juice for life... and that’s not exactly what the dairy industry wants. But apparently it’s what Mr Xenophon wants.
The similarities between Julia Gillard and Hillary Clinton are somewhat spooky with sexual diversions and slush funds arranged for their own personal enrichment and a judicial system that refuses to act, along with a biased media intent on electing and preserving them both.
Us group of elders are mobilising up here and demanding recognition. Taxpayers won’t cop their $squillions a year goin’ to Aboriginal jokers who weren’t here first! We were here before all these footy players and we want recognition at every game of Aussie Rules, and that other game they play somewhere near Robina where they shove their hands up each other’s shorts.
Well, you’ll never convince me that rugby is a girls’ game but any game that we can beat the Kiwis at must be okay. And that Charlotte Unfortunatesecondname sheila was brilliant! Now I can always say with conviction that I saw the Kiwis get beaten at rugby by a bunch of girls. No wonder the poor little Kiwiettes were crying... I’d be buying a length of rope and a three legged chair!