The week according to First Dog On The Moon:

The week in one liners:

Labor gave its support to the next six things the government are going to do, in order to save time…

Minister Kevin Andrews angrily rejected claims of racism following his decision to reduce the annual import of Africans…

Police found 300 grams of ecstacy inside a Mr Potato Head, becoming suspicious when the toy plucked out its own eyes and spent hours staring at itself. Sources later described the Potato head as “fried”…

An inquest in Paris has been told that at the time of her death, Princess Diana was on the pill as well as being married to one…

Gunns got approval to build a controversial paper facility in Tasmania after promising that the effluent would be quarantined to an area of wasteland known as Tasmania…

The bipartisan approval of a huge pulp mill spewing vast amounts of crap has given hope to News Ltd…

Former premier Streve Bracks took a consultancy position with a large firm of accountants, raising suggestions of a conflict of interest, the only occasion on which that latter word could be used in relation to either party concerned…

Aboriginal affairs minister Mal Brough and Senator Trevor Scullion had an alleged fistfight in a bar over who was better qualified to deal with alcohol-induced violence in aboriginal communities…

In Hong Kong, two Western Bulldogs saved a woman from suicide after they let her leave the hotel room…

Two Western Bulldogs saved someone from suicide in Hong Kong, days after twenty members of Port Adelaide committed it in Melbourne…

In the publicity lead-up to the election, the Nationals ads have featured younger female candidates, as part of the party’s “meet our breeders” campaign…

A proposal to open up licensing laws in Sydney threatened to drag the city kicking and screaming into the 1970s…

Britney Spears has lost control of her two children, with bladder and motor skills to follow in a couple of years…

Radiohead has released a new album online, telling listeners to set their own price for it. A similar strategy for the new solo album by Mel B has seen the former Spice Girl pay out almost three quarters of a million pounds…

Home and Away was fined for containing adult content. The producers are appealing the decision on the grounds that by definition it makes no f-ing sense…

Mariah Carey has released a new fragrance “Air of Desperation”…

Pyongyang and Seoul agreed to formally end the Korean war in a last desperate attempt to stop TV1 repeating MASH…

New musical Priscilla, Queen of the Desert headed to the West End, making it the most significant visit of that sort in London since Alan Jones needed to use the facilities…

Alan Jones says he knows the election date after something just suddenly came into his head…

Malcolm McKerras has announced his forecast for the election – he thinks it’ll be a large flightless bird, with a blueish stipple on the wings…

The remains of five Australian WW1 diggers were identified using new DNA techniques. Police have taken the McCanns in for questioning…

The leadership of the Australian Greens has booked election ad space in leading fashion magazines, and say they would only be concerned at a backlash from the rank-and-file if there were any chance they’d ever see one….

NOTE: Some readers complained that they missed last week’s comment on the death of Marcel Marceau. Here it is again:

And the Week in Trash from Helen Razer:

If you cared to ransack the foul rag and bone shop of pop this week, you were amply rewarded with some reeking morsels.

None, of course, were quite so joyously fetid as human bin-liner Britney. Since the birth of Compost, Jaidyn or whatever her vile first born was cruelly christened (I feel about the creative naming of children as others do about squelchy public onanism) I have been yelling at my interwebs, “Please, won’t someone phone welfare.”

Apparently, someone did. The origin of this custody contretemps is unclear. Well, it’s not actually. Apparently she was driving AGAIN without a license. However, I like to imagine she was forced to hand the kids back to K-Fed (now there’s a fertile man who positively reeks of filial concern) because of her unacceptable Body Mass Index. Because it would amuse me to hear an emissary of the Law say, “You can’t have children. You’re too fat.”

The Pointless Misuse of Feeble Press Intellect merit certificate goes to whichever tosser bothered to write these nasty things about Our Kylie. 

Here’s the story: Camberwell’s Cupid suggested some edits in a documentary that featured her as its subject. Well, won’t someone alert robust defenders of free speech? Surely, this is an offence on a par with the removal of Ulysses from sale upon its initial release etc. Our Kylie, as you know, is a delightful confection and must not be condemned.

Further, if she wants to shoot her perfect face full with botulism, I say, Kylie, Rage Rage against the dying of the light.

Now, I would have called fellow grieving Saints supporter Warnie about these allegations. However, his phone is generally busy. And, as you know, when not engaged on the telephone, Shane is generally performing clumsy cunnilingus upon any dear blonde harlot who does not have the heart to say, “Really, you’re doing nothing for me and you stink of cigarettes.”

I find it almost impossible to think of Warnie coupled with delectable former courtesan, Jemima Khan. Don’t you? I fritter a great deal of time thinking about sundry persons involved in unlikely conjugation, but I cannot imagine Jemima going for trade quite so rough.

In other meaningless news: over-rated and under-sourced interwebs “Personality” Perez Hilton hosted a party. One, no doubt, replete with Bolivian Marching Powders and tinsel masquerading as frocks. People reports that Nicole Richie and her beau Joel were engaged at this do. And, apparently, they are set to legalise their unforgivable union next week.

I don’t think I fugging care. Really. She’s a pointless bint and he is in a band so irksome that the foul noise they emit rivals Nickelback for utter crapness.

Perhaps KFed is available to nurse their devil child when it spills, red eyed and kicking with detached diabolic promise, into our ugly world.

Until next week, cuddles!

Peter Fray

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