Head Boy Malcolm Turnbull can't resist a little joke with his prefect Scott Morrison.
Wedgies at 4.30 in the Liberal party room - it's that kind of party!
The malleable head of Arthur Sinodinos has been snuffling around in the muck for truffles, there might be a Rolex in there, at least a bottle of Grange
Propose converting Victoria into a road. It's Labor's fault and we can load the contracts up with huge termination fees. I'm bound to get a Rolex, a bottle of Grange, a dacha at Daylesford, and a seat on the board.
What did I say? - I've forgotten already -, was I speaking at all?
Careworn after speaking with Cory Bernardi, there's nothing like a Bacon Bloody Mary at the Record Crate for a preferred Messiah wondering what comes after his triumphal entry into the capital.
The flying pigs may make some sense, and all that red prefigures what lies ahead. Kevin Andrews is prepared to serve
No comments:
Post a Comment