Lock out. Love in.

Parliament doesn’t sit any more in New South Wales.

Policy is developed in FOR SALE penthouses where the government drinks champagne and Margaret River reds with property developers. They tickle Margaret Cunneen, hanging hideous off a pole. She giggles and complains of chest pains. ICAC is doomed.

Jamie Packer’s sperm bubbles in the fragrant burner and makes everyone giddy.

It’s a wonderful life. It’s a shithouse government.

Planning = knocking down things that were built twenty years ago and rebuilding them. And road tunnels.

Development = turning museums into blocks of flats. And a bottle of Grange.

Progress = two casinos instead of one, exempt from the city’s notorious ‘lock out’ laws. #casinomike

If I was Margaret Cunneen I wouldn’t lock people out of venues after 1.30am I would lock them in.

‘Last drinks. Go home now or take your chances.’

Throw some sawdust on the floor and let them spew and fuck and fight each other till dawn. In a month the dickheads will have killed each other.

On a brighter note, far from corrupt and disappointing NSW, the AFL sort of starts tonight. Go you mighty Cats.

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