ALIAS POOR YORICK

Let me just say two things: I am not dead yet, I would like some cheese, and Malcolm Turnbull is a complete bastard. And so is Julie Bishop. She gave me girl germs. And don't get me started on that treacherous little twink Christopher Pyne. Or Scott Morrison. Yes I know that's more than two things, that wasn't a promise you bloody pedants that was an ambit claim. Don't start with me or I'll have them build a coal mine in your backyard. Yes your actual backyard. I'll still got friends. I'll email Greg Hunt. I told him when he first became Environment Minister I said Greg, mate, we can't be worrying about the impact of a few billion tonnes of coal being mined. Of course we care about the environment but at the same time the environment needs to toughen the fuck up. No-one wants a namby-pamby sickly girlie poof of an environment. And if somehow in spite of our best efforts we completely bugger it, we'll just buy a new one on eBay. Greece could prob...

T HE RIGHT HONOURABLE AND TOTALLY WONDERFUL LORD MALCOLM TURNBULL, PRIME MINISTER OF AUSTRALIA ... so I said to Joe Hockey, mate I could replace you with a iPhone 6, at least it'd take a better picture. ... oh shit I'm sorry I didn't see that microphone there...  Bring me the ermine underpants of ultimate authority, I am here to save the nation. Now I won't be taking questions as such as we gather here today to survey the unalloyed and undeniable magnificence that is me, but I'm sure in the course of our encounter I will answer all of your questions and many you haven't even thought of yet & just generally be damned impressive. Speaking of which, I've been advised I've got a bit of Sun-God/personal radiance thing going on, and those of you in the first twenty or thirty rows may want to throw on some sun-block. There have been first degree burns. I want and need of all you to worship me in safety. So when, I hear you whisper i...

STUFFED IF I KNOW Dear God, Felt the need to confess. Tried to find a priest but they're all a bit busy. Some sort of conference. No-one's answering their phones and George Pell is tweeting at #fuckedifiknowdude and #wheninrome. So I rang Head Office and spoke to a nice man called Frank who suggested I should just talk to you direct. Told me it's the modern way. Dude. So like ... Forgive me non-gender-specific supreme being but not like God in a religious sense because religion is really fucked and I'm just interested in being spiritual, for I have sinned. Well look when I say sinned what I really mean is had a moment of moral dyslexia. Or something. You know. Since my last confession I have: Checked Facebook forty-three times while driving in heavy traffic, attempted to tweet pictures of my naked knee to subordinates in the office and I have failed to like over three hundred stupid cute memes of cats on FB. I have willfully refused to wish at least hal...

BUT THERE'S NO EXCUSE FOR THIS The person who said "There's simply no excuse for this" simply isn't looking hard enough. There's always an excuse. Effort is required. Creativity is to be admired. Some of you may recall when this blogging empire took its first faltering steps I warned that from time to time, an item of actual news might slip into print. A true thing. An actual fact. And so it has come to pass: several weeks ago a couple of Melbourne footballers tested positive for the performance-enhancing drug clenbuteral. I would tell you their names and the club they play for, and you're probably thinking I'm just too bloody lazy to google it, but the fact of the matter is that any attempt to google unflattering facts about Melbourne footballers is harshly punished by our alien lizard overlords and may lead to comedy writers being imprisoned and forced to write cat memes for Facebook for up to five years. Not many people know this.  Anywa...

The government today assured everyone that everything was all right. A spokesperson for the government said that earlier reports to the effect that everything was not all right were wrong. "These things happen in today's fast-changing political landscape", said the unfortunate and sweating minor public official. Apparently things were in fact really bad but the government has now decided the most effective solution is to look at it all in a much more positive light. And besides, it was all the fault of the previous government. Minister for Looking Like A Spiv, Christopher Pyne, declared that while his Higher Education Reform Bill had theoretically been defeated in the Senate, the reforms would still be effected because of secret "I've Fixed It" legislation which guarantees that if Mr Pyne says "I've fixed it" three times in a row accompanied by a nervous high-pitched giggle then it's fixed. This legislation was passed in a late nigh...

Oh yes, I am wise. But it's wisdom born of pain. Yes, I've paid the price, but look how much I've gained. If I have to, I can do anything. I am strong. Yes I'm strong. I am invincible. Yes invincible. I am woman. And why do I, Tony Abbott, on the surface a man, and yes a man with rather more chest hair than is currently fashionable, claim and declaim to you here today, that I am a woman. Because in a very real sense I am a woman. I identify. It is no accident that I am the Minister for Women in this government. I know what it is to be bullied and pushed around by arrogant men in suits and blue ties. I know what it is to be laughed and and treated as second best. I know what it is to be objectified and treated as a mere sexual object. Women of Australia I share your oppression. You get to a point where you understand in a very real and meaningful way that men and women are exactly the same except for that not having a penis thing. And the PMS. Crikey that's ...

From the desk of HRH Lord Sir Prince Philip, Earl of Grey, Duke of Course Dear Jillaroos, Jackaroos, Jigaboos, and Piccaninnies of Australia, Thank you so very much for this unexpected honour. You shouldn't have. No really, you shouldn't.  But I've always wanted one and it fits me and everything. Also, the colour suits me well. You beauts. You cobbers. Is that right ? Did I get that right ? I really should have consulted a young person like my son Charles, he knows your wonderful country better than I do. He spent some time there in a school in a tree hut or something. They told us it would be character-building. Made him drink his own urine. Or was that Bear Grylls - I always get those two confused. Now I won't say this wasn't something of a surprise, and I'm a bit sketchy on the details of why exactly I am being honoured in this way, but I'm told it has something to do with my efforts to protect your country during the Franco-Prussian War ...

Of course there are questions. There are always questions. Especially when you publish a wildly successful comedy blog full of satirical insights, compassion, and wisdom. Or even this one. Questions like ...  'Is this shit supposed to be funny?'  'Why is the sky blue?'  'I'm thinking about becoming gay, will I have to wear tight shiny shorts and dance all night in discos to Kylie Minogue songs?'  & 'What is metadata anyway?' The answers by the way are (a) yes (b) because it's composed entirely of blue atoms (c) only if you're a boy &  (d) you'll have to ask George Brandis about that. For the sake of the younger and more impressionable in our audience, you'll want to make sure you match up the right answer with the right question here, and for our overseas listeners I should explain George Brandis. But I can't. George says he is the Attorney General in the current government, but in fact he is the minister for looki...

Well come on now, it's a week into the new year and I haven't heard a whiff of your New Year's resolutions. I've made mine of course. Just the usual stuff - become a better bitcoin billionaire, lose a third of a kilo, improve my Greek, Latin, and High German, and learn Mandarin so I can understand at a deeper level the extremely tidy 13th Century Chinese poet Feng Shui. Finally, I have resolved to attain saint-like levels of patience, tolerance, and understanding. Honesty forces me to admit this last one took a tumble by Friday when I was forced to sack a junior writer after the grievously incorrect use of the future pluperfect in an article about farting. And perhaps ordering him to be tarred-and-feathered was a little extreme but this is grammar we're talking about. Okay, yes, and I know I promised I was going to stop making fun of  my older brother Tristan's emotional support Alpaca and it was good of him to travel all the way from New York to join us f...