Dear Malcolm

You are asleep at the wheel. Banker lawyers aren’t renowned for their innovation or empathy, but you have turned out to be our Clayton’s* Prime Minister, the one we have when we don’t really have a leader. You are surrounded by pseudo human career politicians and you have proved to be as much of a jerk as Abbott, just dressed in a better suit. Malcolm, you seemed to have potential, years ago you talked with great passion about Australia becoming a republic, the Australian people thought that you could have been a man of vision but instead, you bow to people whose ideas belong in the Dark Ages. 30 women have been murdered this year alone and the only thing that makes you angry is the company tax rate not being cut. You truly are our most disappointing Prime Minister.

You spoke of Australia’s success with resettling refugees using sportsman Allir Allir as an example. You forgot to mention the refugee children languishing in mouldy tents on Manus and Nauru and the dying man whose supporters had to fight in court for him to receive proper palliative care in a hospital. Allir Allir coming here from a refugee camp in Kenya had nothing to do with you. You cold fart unholy man.

You have no inspiring strategies on:

Climate change

The arts

Health

Education

Refugees

or Science

And Malcolm, you feel the need to constantly bash Bill Shorten, but you’re short on common sense, short on intelligent policies and short on compassion. What you need is a bunch of single mums in your cabinet; you’d get some great decisions made in record time (and under budget) and our country would perhaps be more inclined to give people in need a fair go (does this concept sound familiar?).

Your grandchildren won’t be proud of how your party decided to destroy what’s left of the Great Barrier Reef, how about you stand up and become a statesman? Because right now you look like you really don’t want the job. Malcolm, it is time to step up or crawl off to your dodgy tax haven in the Cayman Islands like the scaly, shifty old caiman you resemble.

 

*If you’re not familiar with this term, in the 1970s and 80s Clayton’s was advertised as ‘the drink you have when you’re not having a drink.’

 


Privacy update

Dear Mr Joyce,
As you don’t seem to have the necessary skills or desire to spare the people of our great country, I’ve updated your privacy policy. Let’s clarify a few items:

Your new money-making model, the Vicki-made-me-do-it-defense belongs in the bin with Adam’s “Eve made me bite the apple”, and poor white trash dude shot up the school because his girlfriend dumped him excuses.

We, the people of Australia, don’t have any questions about the personal information you have chosen to share with us. We don’t want the media to inform us how your baby was conceived, how many times you cheated on your wife or how you fell for Vicki. We would like you to review your Terms of Use and really want you to prioritise transparency about when you’re going to pay back the money you owe the Australian people and the deals you were a part of when you were not eligible to be the Deputy Prime Minister.

As a politician Barnaby, you have obviously signed the Hypocrite Oath, compulsory for anyone willing to join a party that locks up children in detention indefinitely and lies about it. For the sake of your four daughters, we would like to unsubscribe from the tacky details of your personal life immediately, please feel free not to get in touch, not to update any television station journalists, and have a long think about resigning immediately.

And Vicki, please feel free to shut the fuck up at any time via the link below.

These changes reflect the new TMI privacy regulations that will shortly come into effect, as we the over-subscribed, over-stimulated, over it Australian population have demanded of all politicians.

Stop showing us your privates Barnaby.

Thank you


It’s Just Not Cricket

Happy Easter, Passover, festival of chocolate scoffing frenzy, four days off work.

I spent a large chunk of my childhood being forced to go to church and listen to sermons by elderly white male ministers. On Easter Sunday I thought I’d write my own Easter sermon.

The Urban dictionary definition of It’s Just Not Cricket is:

Australian Slang – Having something that is unjust or just plain wrong done to someone or something. This comes from the game of cricket which is regarded as a gentlemen’s game where fair play was paramount.

NOT CRICKET:

The Australian government is locking up children in detention centres for years but our country is crying about cricket. What have we become? I don’t believe it is our government’s right to tamper with the lives of refugees, to make them wait for years to be processed, for Dutton to refuse to send some of them to New Zealand. Economically, it doesn’t make sense. We could bring all the refugees here and save millions of dollars every year.

 

Passover commemorates the liberation of the Israelites, why can’t we as Australians band together and liberate some refugees?

NOT CRICKET:

Women dying of domestic violence at a rate of 1-2 per week

Uluru Statement ignored

An abuser is still in the White House

Genocide in Myanmar

 

But a bit of sandpaper on a ball is what makes us enraged.

This Easter, I think Jesus would be worried more about feeding homeless people than the 12th man.

 


Beetroot stains

It’s been a bloody grouse week for those of us who speak fluent Strine. We’ve had ripper new words and phrases added to our lingo:

Rejoyce – lying to your constituents then getting re-elected

Beetrooter – older white male who preys on young female work mates

Beetrorter – doing dodgy deals to ensure a parliamentary pension

Fang a Canavan* – protecting your mates despite their ability to act like a dickhead

Go Full Barnaby – chucking a sickie when the top job awaits

Ucken Joyce mate – to flick your wife and kids with no wucken furries

Chuck a Vikki – to root someone whom even Stevie Wonder would find fuggly

*See also nepotism & cronyism

 

Machine Gun Fellatio – Pussytown


If voting changed anything they’d make it illegal

Politics? Anyone still interested? In Australia we are near the end of one of our longest ever election campaigns. In the US the fun has barely started.

Our world is in a mess.

Australia’s land clearing emissions have nearly doubled in the last three years. Most Australians want the Great Barrier Reef saved at the expense of coal mining. Idiot conservatives who have protected paedophiles for decades want to waste hundreds of millions of dollars on a same sex marriage plebiscite, babies are being harmed in detention centres, and many of our politicians pay lip service to ending violence against women. Funding to the arts and education have been slashed.

For the future health of our children, no further open cut mining or coal seam gas drilling should be permitted in residential or good agricultural land or near our waterways. Our long-term future is more important than coal, and nothing can replace the loss of our food bowl. To ensure a fossil fuel-free future we must vote the dinosaurs out of our parliaments.

This election, vote wisely. On Saturday July 2nd, we get to decide our next prime minister (until he gets knifed in the back by one of his party faithful).

Please think about what you’re voting for. You control your preference in the order you choose. Handouts at the polling booth are the way each party wants you to vote for their own best results, which is usually not the ideal outcome for the future of our country. It is time to make our votes count. We must honour the legacy of Jo Cox. 

Your vote is powerful.

In the voting booth, everyone is equal – Barbara Boxer

UB 40 If it Happens Again


Vote For Me

Why don’t you vote for me?

Not everyone in North Sydney would pay to meet Bronwyn Bishop.

This Thursday April 21st and Friday April 22nd, I’m performing my funny new show all about Australian politics, Vote One Lou Pollard at the Factory Theatre in Marrickville for the 2016 Sydney Comedy Festival. In this election year, come along and hear my crazy tales of politics in North Sydney.

When the other candidates are a joke, vote for the comedian

Vote One Lou Pollard tickets

Lou Pollard politician

 


Vote for me

In a month, I’m performing my fourth solo comedy show for the Sydney Comedy Festival at The Factory Theatre in Marrickville. I’ve written a show about my brief but dazzling foray into the political arena at last year’s North Sydney by election.

Vote One Lou Pollard

Lou Pollard politician

Written and authorised by Lou Pollard for the Single Mothers having a party Party

Buy tickets: Vote One show tickets