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


What the fork?

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.

Pink – Dear Mr. President


Trust me, I’m a politician

I’m hoping and praying that when I return to Australia we will have a parliament made up of a diverse group of female and male politicians, but I fear that nothing has changed. I should look on the bright side; another long torturous federal election campaign is over. There was almost a double dissolution, a budget, lots of pontifimacating about, “jobs and growth,” and eighty billion weeks of campaigning buffoons to endure.

I met a man who reminded me that voting is a privilege. “In my home country I wasn’t allowed to vote,” he told me.

Every night on TV we suffered idiots in suits who protect their mates and do very little to turn us into a clever country. Having watched them run a campaign in 2015, what disturbs me most about the Liberal party male power machine is not their political views but their lack of empathy. I didn’t hear any of them speak about helping their fellow humans in a real way. That’s a motherhood statement.

I learnt a lot standing as a politician in 2015. Don’t call swinging voters swingers at a community forum packed with senior citizens. Why did I want to be a politician? I got ahead of myself and imagined spending taxpayer dollars on homeless people, animal shelters and counselling for women victims of domestic violence. I met David Gonski. A rich banker who lives in Point Piper who actually knows how to fix our education system so it is fair to all kids, and the bastard politicians won’t even listen to him.

If I ever venture into politics again, I’ll start the single mother party. I will be the minister for cramped housing, over breeding and goon bags. If current politicians can rort their way into helicopter travel, when I’m elected every child of a single mum will receive a pony. but maybe I’ll just throw a party. Only smart people who want to save the planet can come. You with me? My slogan: Single mothers like to party. BYO cask wine and Prozac.

Spoken and authorised by Lou Pollard for the Single Mothers Like to Party Party.

The individual whose vision encompasses the whole world often feels nowhere so hedged in and out of touch with his surroundings as in his native land.

Emma Goldman

UB40 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


Single mother expense rorts

Bloody Santa forgot to bring me an unlimited expense account, a platinum credit card and a billionaire husband, so as a single mother in 2014 I’m right into cash for comments. An empty wallet fills the face with wrinkles after all. Single mother ailments include: regret, despair and irrational thoughts; hang on that’s just motherhood, single or not.

Raising children can be a financial disaster so single mothers need a steady source of income that doesn’t involve prostitution or selling said children on eBay. Large bills and small children are a stressful mix so we can pretend that everything will be fine or delve into the murky world of political expense rorts. I propose a single mother ‘cash for comments’ scheme, where every time a politician states the bleeding obvious on television he is fined and the money put towards raising the children of our nation who have been abandoned by fathers who won’t pay child support. I’m sure Tony Abbott will love it.

“I want my children to have all the things I couldn’t afford. Then I want to move in with them” — Phyllis Diller