sassy's political round-up

First of all I would like to announce that I am dedicating this post to my journalistic hero (political division), Michael Brissenden. His Canberra round-ups on the 7.30 Report were hilarious, accurate and really, really snarky. He always dug up the most fabulously unflattering footage of all the pollies and put on a super-derisive tone in his voiceovers and I miss him dearly. COME BACK TO ME MICHAEL!

Anyway. Dramaz ahoy in various Labor Governments today as Channel Nine revealed NSW Labor pollie Michael Costa was trying to make a deal to only approve K.Rudd’s computers in schools programme if they were paid $245 million as a secret kickback. No one was surprised.

Seriously. We’re not idiots. We all know the entire NSW Labor government is dodgy. It is, in fact, entirely possible most of our MPs have only made it into cabinet because they are part of a Stonecutters-esque underworld body where the rewards come in the form of political power and requirements for membership are a double chin, an Italian surname and a complete and utter disregard for ethics.

Who pushed the Lane Cove Tunnel through? We did, we diiiiiiiiiid!

Let’s call them the Ragazzi Club. And as the alternative to our beloved Ragazzi Club is Barry O’Farrell, let’s also just assume we’re stuck with them for awhile.

I have two massive problems with this turn of events, and both have to do with the fact that the whole thing leaked … because Federal Treasurer Wayne Swan left his Secret Government Officialzz Correspondence folder in the Channel Nine studios.

Really? REALLY? How can this keep happening? First the British Spy leaves his FOR BRITISH EYES ONLY file on the tube. Now Treasurer Wayne leaves his BLACKMAIL LETTERS manila folder on the chair at a news station. Surely the only thing that one really needs to remember as a holder of national or party secrets is that one doesn’t tell people. Or show people. Are there any other requirements to secret-keeping I have missed? I think not.

It’s like when you rob a bank, the first rule that you learn from the Big Book of Thieving is that you never leave your giant white cotton bag with the dollar sign on it behind in the bank. Sigh. This is rudimentary stuff, bitches. I am shocked you’re all doing so badly at it.

Now just you make sure you hold onto that box real tight there, Wayne honey!

But more importantly, not-Michael-Brissenden on the 7.30 report tells me the papers were memos from Michael Costa to the Federal Government. On paper and in typing. With names on them. I am starting to despair for the country right now. Surely the Ragazzi Club can do better than this?

Let me explain. By the time I was about twelve Mama Sassy had taught me that there are certain rules we follow in a civilised society to make things more orderly, simpler, and more pleasant. We call it etiquette. When you stay the night somewhere, you say ‘thank you’. When you see someone knocked up on the bus, you offer them a seat. And for the love of God, when a man writes a blackmail letter, he doesn’t put his name (or fingerprints) on it. He does it in cut out letters from the Woman’s Day glued onto white A4 paper. Like a gentleman.

Were these boys raised by wolves? I am tres perplexed. And I feel 99% certain June Dally-Watkins would be too.

I am also … I believe the closest word to the pain I am feeling is DEVO, that Alexander Downer is leaving politics. Our favourite bread-and-butter pudding of a man is quitting Aussie politics to become the United Nations’ Special Envoy to Cyprus. I know this will hurt Jessica most of all, but the plain truth is, it hurts me too. I love Alexander Downer. Adore him. It’s nothing to do with his policies because I don’t even know what his policies are. Who cares what a man has done in terms of policy when we have this?

I’ll miss you, A.Down. I’ll miss your cascades of meaty, wobbling jowls and the way they frolic and dance like angels below your mouth when you speak. I’ll miss your gay schoolboy curls, and your round rosy cheeks. But most of all, I’ll miss your voice. Listening to your Adelaide diction is like lying on a stuffy, sexless, uncomfortable white-person double bed while it’s strewn with a rain of ripe plums. It’s quite lovely. Farewell old friend.

In other news, it has come to my attention that, as much as our State and Federal politicians love a junket or a freebie, there is one thing that they are tragically neglecting to spend out hard-earned cash on: injectables.

See all those little lines on K.Rudd’s forehead? We call them marionette lines. Most definitely not there before the election. Also, nothing that a little botox wouldn’t solve. And, if the effects of stress have caused lines that are noticeable even when the forehead is at rest, maybe a little restylane as filler to smooth things out. If you’re wondering, it’s like collagen, but synthetic and not made using animal products. Everybody wins!

For Brendan, definitely a little muscle paralysis between the eyebrows to start. And a trough filling procedure using restylane beneath the eyes would take away almost all of his eyebag issues.

People can’t trust someone who doesn’t look like as though they fully trust themselves and their own judgment. Remember that, kids. Once you’ve found all the top-secret paperwork and ACME atom bombs that you left in bathroom stalls and on buses, I think you should all look into this.

Because I’ve bored you enough, that’s probably enough for today. This may be a regular thing, or, because I’m fickle with a ludicrously short attention span, this may never happen again. You will have to wait and see.