Call me a bloody hippy, but much good will come out of this time of corona madness. A whole new world is waiting to be born
We have stopped buying plastic crap we don’t need that is shipped here from overseas
All children may get access to good schooling and new technology
We will stop working in jobs we hate to buy crap we think we want
People have stopped injecting their bodies with botulism toxin
Maybe we will finally close the gap and have good health outcomes for our first nations people
Kids who aren’t neurotypical and don’t fit into our one size fits all school system will have other options for learning
Neighbours are looking after lonely, elderly folk because they’re not at work all the time
Billionaires and foreign companies who make massive profits may actually have to pay some tax to put money back into society.
People have stopped adding plastic to their fingers and breathing in solvents painted on their toes
Foxtel may go bust with no live sport being played; good riddance Rupert
People will wake up and realise that housing is a human right, not an investment opportunity. We may get rid of over blown rents, negative gearing and have housing that is fair for all
Families will spend quality time together; eating, arguing and singing
The planet will breathe while we’re not stampeding through every river and canal throwing plastic bottles into the sea
We finally appreciate and give thanks to doctors, ambos, nurses, teachers, garbos, shelf stackers, child care workers, aged care lovelies, check out chicks and roosters and start to honour how they keep our society going with their hard work
We will stop buying too many clothes, and not prop up an industry that exploits too many underpaid workers in countries that have no labour laws.
We will grow our own food, share with our neighbours, distribute goods according to need
We will live according to the seasons and honour the ebb and flow of mother nature
We may start to fund our scientists and actually listen when they impart their knowledge
We will swap clothes with our friends, mend and repair broken bits and bobs and remember that compulsive shopping doesn’t fill our hearts
We will crave our connection to nature and appreciate every blade of grass once it is safe to be back in the world
Without organised religious gatherings, people will start to question their beliefs and maybe not hide the paedophiles
We may realise that we don’t need the latest technology to be happy
200,000 poker machines are now sitting idle
We will discover we don’t need to pollute the planet with balloons at gender reveal parties, we can actually live with surprises
We will wake up and stop listening to and voting for greedy mad men who can barely turn up to do their job and finally decide to elect visionary leaders
We can no longer queue and panic buy phones and shoes and other stuff that we really can live without
Huge floating Petri dishes have been stopped from polluting precious cities and oceans across the world
We will have time to dance and sing together (online) and tell our stories and have time with our babies without having to rush off to feed the planet destroying capitalist beast
People will find out the real value of a dollar or a euro and realise that the share market is a house of cards, favouring only the fortunate
And the dolphins and the fish and the worms and the birds will come out of hiding and say ‘what took you so long silly humans?’
This revolution will be televised
On Friday, the Stephen Bradbury of the Liberal party Scott no friends Morrison made the worst International Women’s Day speech in the history of forever.
Simple Scotty said that men should not have to make way for women’s empowerment.
On International Women’s Day.
“We’re not about setting Australians against each other, trying to push some down to lift others up,” Morrison told a function organised by Australia’s mining industry.
“We want to see women rise. But we don’t want to see women rise only on the basis of others doing worse.”
On International Women’s Day.
What I love most about Scott no friends’ latest idiot utterance is that Labor don’t really need to do anything during this election campaign. Scott has placed his feet in concrete boots and the LNP ship is sinking faster than the rats can run. And it’s all his own doing.
As a rugby league man, Scotty the super fit sporty PM may not understand the concept, so here is the dictionary definition of ‘own goal’:
1. a goal scored when a player inadvertently strikes the ball into their own team’s goal.
an act that unintentionally harms one’s own interests.
Ex liberal MP Julia Banks told a gathering at a separate IWD event that Morrison’s leadership style was akin to “Mad Men crossed with House of Cards.”
Just when the Australian people thought that Tone deaf Abbott defending a paedophile was beyond, along comes good old boy Scotty to make sure they’ll be in opposition for a long time. As we say in the land of Oz, “hold my beer.”
Now that you’ve stopped the votes, where the bloody hell are you retiring to Scotty? Time to book your place at the Hillsong happy clapper home for bewildered dinosaurs 🦖🦕
Yesterday there was a by-election held in the electorate where my children go to school. At the polling booth, I asked an older Liberal party member who was handing out how to vote cards how he could campaign for climate denial when the science is clear. He asked me a question about H2o or Co2 levels in the atmosphere then told me off for not knowing the answer.
“You should educate yourself,” he said.
“I believe the scientists,” I replied but because I couldn’t answer his science questions he laughed. My brain has never retained STEM facts so that’s not proof that global warming doesn’t exist, it’s proof that 99% of the time my mind is off with the pixies dreaming up single mum get rich quick schemes, and maths and science are not my strong point.
When I said to him, “How about your party find some strong policies instead of incessantly bitching about the Opposition?” he told me I didn’t understand science. He is right but I clearly understand that I don’t want our beautiful environment destroyed by corporate and political greed.
Even a former Liberal Party leader stated the day before the poll: “You forfeit the right to govern if you don’t have a climate action strategy.”
A few hours later the Government lost a safe seat they’d held for 117 years, and the Prime Minister gave a tone-deaf concession speech attacking opposition leader Bill Shorten and people on welfare. I’m no policy-maker but here are a few ideas if they want to stay in government next year:
Where 45% of the electorate are renters, don’t talk to us about negative gearing. Overpaid members of parliament have used Australians on low and below the poverty line income to buy and push up house prices. We are sick of subsidising wealthy politicians who manipulate the property market. Let’s remove this rort.
We’ve had three conservative Prime Ministers in two and a half years, so perhaps don’t mention stability and certainty in your election promises. Nor economic management when you’ve tripled the deficit and refused to help low income families in the five years you’ve been in power.
And let’s not mention the NBN debacle.
The conservatives have now lost their majority in the lower house. Maybe with a hung parliament we can get the kids off Nauru without having to go to court.
Liberal party, it’s not 1954, you could try listening to voters. All over the world, educated people are living to the 21st century. Wentworth liked the guy who you kicked out of the job, so they decided to elect a progressive independent doctor who believes in climate change. Maybe your party can’t attract women with integrity because no intelligent lady would join your gang of dinosaurs. Scott Morrison, try inspiring our country with visionary ideas, you currently sound like a used car salesman trying to sell us a clapped out, dodgy lemon. Your hollow words are (went) worthless
This week I woke up dressed in a diabolical fashion, with unflattering lighting overhead and inedible food by my bed. No, it wasn’t Mother’s Day. When I walked into the main hospital building that morning, the first thing I noticed was the drab decor; so hideous that the caring lovelies working there had tried to patch up the dullness with bright paintings, but I could feel the bacteria and sadness in the walls.
But we do have incredible care. When I came to after my anaesthetic, I had the most lovely pregnant nurse and I couldn’t get over how grateful I felt that we have great health care in Australia. Everyone was so caring I shed a few tears, I felt blessed that this was my first thought. I looked around and noticed that the hospital staff represented every corner of the universe, Africa, Asia, alien, Australia, America, Pacific Islands, Europe and bogan. Despite the racial hatred pollies who’ve received very few votes are trying to stir up, Australians are a mixed bag of nationalities who want to work and live together in harmony without politicians telling us we can’t.
I had a general anaesthetic so I could have Botox injected into my bum muscle (I speak fluent doctor yeah) to try to repair nerve damage from an operation I had in April. I did ask but the doctor wouldn’t do a 2 for the price of 1 Botox deal on my arse and my face. Bloody Medicare. Before I went under, my colorectal surgeon told me to eat soft foods, when I awoke I was served beef so tough it could have been used by our defence forces. And the doctor wouldn’t let me go until my blood pressure and pulse rate went up so I sat in a chair scoffing non-hospital food until I was allowed to leave. I’m happy to be home. On my return, there was a two-stage political coup erupting to change our Prime Minister. Here comes the revolution: We’ve changed to a conservative god bothering white male from a mega-rich white male. Plus ca change. And now that the weekend is here, and our right-wing politicians have finished throwing tantrums and travelled away from the Canberra bubble, I’d like to help those boorish pale males think about something other than themselves, perhaps the nation’s healthcare, education, domestic violence, babies dying in detention centres or even a treaty with the people who were here first.
Politicians, I can’t believe I have to spell it out for you, but most of you are ego driven and need Commcar drivers to help you get to work at Parliament House because you couldn’t find the place by yourself. You are public servants, we voted for you to serve us, not to watch you cower before opinion polls, you spineless idiots. Walk into the hospital, STFU, listen and watch how a diverse group of people co-operate, learn how they carry on their jobs without petty squabbles, working as a team to achieve incredible outcomes for the good of all humanity. This may help as most of you couldn’t organise a piss-up in a brewery. If you still don’t get it, be careful the door doesn’t hit your unBotoxed bums on the way out.
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
This morning Brandis is threatening to stall the same sex marriage debate if he doesn’t get his way. Unchristian Porter, Corgi and the other right wing rednecks all advocate butting out of people’s lives, except when it comes to telling people who they can marry. The problem with the Lieberal Nationals being elected is that the balding white males who run the party don’t want the world to change. The system works for them, it has made them rich. If we want a just political system we have to get rid of these dinosaurs. At least the independent parties are passionate about creating a fairer Australia.
I’m a yes person. I’ve done infomercials for washing machines, how hard can politics be? I thought. But after running in Joe Hockey’s electorate last year, I now know why women last don’t last too long in parliament. Hanging out with blue-suited number crunchers having endless discussions with accountants is more than this koala could bear.They reminded me of living in Britain in the late 80s when Dragoness Thatcher was in power.
Politicians are overpaid, and also the dullest people on earth, they receive far too much attention. How do the political journalists do it? How can they watch the games of preening and self-congratulations and emotional manipulation and not want to bash heads in? How can they listen to the well-rehearsed sound bites and faux sincerity all day and stay sane?
My acting teacher Hayes Gordon said, “I don’t regret doing cigarette ads, I don’t regret alcohol ads but I regret teaching the politician Robert Askin how to be charming on camera so people thought he cared.” The Liberal party feed their candidates self-confidence pills so they believe they are the masters of the universe. That kind of self-assurance is breathtaking. Last year I found myself seduced by people whose policies are abhorrent. The Libs are so good at faux sincerity it’s like watching Tom Cruise acting. You start to think he’s actually a nice guy even thought your logical brain knows he’s a Scientologist and that he dumped our Nickers so he must be an arsehole.
I know this is unusual, but as a politician, I wanted to be transparent. I thought I was the prodigal daughter returning to North Sydney to save the electorate from the Liberals. But I wasn’t even a contender, the old boys club has too much money and they want it to stay that way. I know how Ricky Muir feels.
Now the idiots want to strip funding to carers while wasting millions on a plebiscite. I’ve been a single mother living on a small income for years, I know all about financial planning. Shonky Mal Turnbull may not know how to be a leader, but he could get a few single mums in his cabinet, then he’d be able to pass a successful budget.
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
This week marks one year since the Australian people voted in a bunch of uninspiring pale, stale, male pollies who bow to a fiscal god and think balancing a budget is the only important quality in a politician. Maybe we needed to have this bunch of boorish, entitled white males and their lack of vision to remind us to be compassionate, to care for one another, to give the homeless, the sick, the unemployed and refugees some of our time and our kindness. We come from a land of plenty, so just maybe these greedy men have woken us up so that we remember to dream of a world we really wish to live in and start to fight for it. Or maybe they’re just a pack of spineless puppets. Come the revolution we know who will be first to the guillotine.