Well, what a week it’s been! It had it all: tears, laughter, silliness, seriousness, comings, goings, disasters and parties. And quite a lot of other stuff happened outside of my lounge room and Facebook community as well… apparently.
First up, the voters of Yeppoon chose to de-amalgamate from the Rocky Council. Hopefully my campaign for Gladstone to separate from Queensland will be just as successful.
Then the nations’ news barons were distracted from Tony Abbot picking at Julia like she was a burr in his Speedo’s, when Stephen Conroy introduced some media reforms. Steve was immediately labelled a dictator by a genuine dictator; Rupert Murdoch.
Meanwhile one of Rupert’s employees was attacked by Justin ‘the Peeved’ Bieber. Unfortunately Bieb’s bodyguards prevented the photographer from punching nine colours of custard out of the little twit.
Now there’s no group on earth who likes a stoush more than the Irish, and this week they were out in droves drinking, singing, dancing, and head-butting their way to and from the bar. I’m sure St. Patrick must be delighted to have his name attached to this annual riot.
And speaking of saints, Pope Frank was introduced to a waiting world this week. Upon hearing the news, Long Suffering Wife made her own announcement, “Hey! The new Pope is the same age as my dad!” After a moments silence I asked, “I wonder if the Pope will potter out to his car, start it, then ask, “Where are we supposed to be going again?””
But even news of the new Pope’s first tweet to the world, “Pray for me”, came in waaaaay behind the biggest tweet of the week to the People of Oz from Ellen Degeneres; she has had to delay her trip Down Under because she is down under the weather.
Well, Ellie would be in good company down here, because quite a lot of hung-over Irish folk, sleep deprived Catholics, and despondent Labor voters know exactly how she feels at the moment.
And they say no one takes an interest in the big news stories anymore….