The Minister for Home Affairs

Content note: This piece includes graphic discussion of suicide and reference to abuse

Just as I said I wouldn’t, I forgot them, and their stories got tangled up with all the other distant horrors. In May, last year, two young refugees under Australian care set themselves on fire. Omid Masoumali, an 23 year old held in indefinite detention on Nauru, doused his body in petrol and burnt himself alive. Three days later Hodan Yasin, a 21 year old Somali woman, also set herself alight. Unlike Masoumali, she survived; with burns covering seventy per cent of her body. She lost several fingers in the blaze.

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PM says policies don’t target millennials: also hurt elderly, children, the unborn

Australian Prime Minister Malcolm Bligh Halifax Rameses Turnbull has struck out at claims that his policies unfairly disadvantage millennials, arguing that they unfairly disadvantage all generations other than his own.

“Of course our policies aren’t some kind of attack on young people,” the PM announced to a press conference held in his negatively-geared harbourside hedge maze, “We’re committed to reducing living standards for all non-key demographics.”
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The Good Emperor

Thank goodness we finally have a Prime Minister who respects our intelligence.

Just two months into the Pax Malcolma and the onioniverous antics of our erstwhile overlord seem a lifetime ago. I can barely even remember that time Tony Abbott said baby seals deserved to be clubbed. Or tried to legalise witch-burning on the grounds it would benefit small business. Or went to the NATO summit wearing nothing but a novelty Australian flag bucket hat because Barnaby Joyce dared him too.

That dark age is behind us and Australia now is in a safe pair of hands. Safe, supple, strong hands. Dry, warm, well-manicured hands. Hands that probably couldn’t strangle a man to death, but could pay an assassin to do it for them, but wouldn’t because they’re too gentlemanly. Continue reading “The Good Emperor”

Ode To A Shadow Communications Minister

The lucky all come flocking to their silver lockéd liege,
He twitters with his subjects – he’s Noblesse Oblige,
A liberal and a gentleman, his bon mots burst with mirth,
Don’t worry where those forests went or the hundred mil he’s worth.
Ignore his Reaganomics, forget broadband to the home,
Malcolm looks an angel when MacBeth is near the throne.
With Punch and Judy in the mud the good duke looks pristine,
Turquoise Turnbull – blue as blood, with just a drop of green.

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