Ever notice how all politicians are called Anthony Albanese?  I mean, you’ve got the Shadow Minister for Infrastructure, the Shadow Minister for Transport and the Shadow Minister for Tourism all called Anthony Albanese.  What’s up with that?  Did they run out of names at the politician name shop, huh? Bam!

Now I don’t want to sound like a politics nerd, but I don’t like the government.  I think they’re idiots, yeah?  I mean, they go on about not having enough money and then get rid of the carbon tax.  Why does carbon get tax cuts?  It’s an element on the periodic table – it should pay as much tax as the rest of us.  You know what I’m saying?  Cause at the moment you got diamonds, which are carbon right, with loads of money yet not paying any tax and just hanging out underground.  I mean, why does carbon live underground?  What does it think it is – a wine cellar? Bam!

Of course Labor are idiots too. (Yeah, all politicians are idiots.  Bam!)  They shouldn’t be in power because of all the stupid things they did when they were in power.  Like the pink bats scandal.  Why did they spend so much money on pink bats?  Why did the government need so many pink bats, huh?  They wouldn’t be camouflaged in the caves.  They’d be easily seen in the dark and be eaten by dogs.  Were they special bats in aid of breast cancer?  Do bats get breast cancer?  Do they have breasts?  I like breasts because I’m a man, but I wouldn’t fuck a bat even if it had breasts.  I’m not Clive Palmer. Bam!

Clive Palmer is a fat idiot.  You ever notice how fat he is?  Why does he need to be in the House of Representatives – did he eat his old house?  Huh?  This lady knows what I’m talking about.  I can just imagine the conversation with his wife.  “Oh Clive, are you coming home?” “No.” “Why not?”  “Because I ate the house again.”  “You ate our house again?  Why?”  “Because I’m a fat man.”  “Honey, you can’t keep eating our house – I’ve got my DVDs in there.”  You getting me?  Clive Palmer’s so fat that when he goes to the zoo all the zookeepers are like “Hey, what’s up with the fat guy?”

Since all politicians never answer questions and don’t know anything, I reckon we should replace all of them with Siri. Like, Siri on your phone.  The robot chick on your phone.  We should elect 160 of her to parliament and they could all sit on the comfy seats and run the country, and the speaker could be like an iPad.  That way the things running the country would know everything.  And we’d be like “Hey Siri, fix the economy” and Siri would say nothing.  And then we’d be like “Hey Siri, get rid of terrorists” and Siri would say nothing.  And then we’d be like “Hey Siri, why have you stopped talking to us since you became a politician?”  And Siri’ll be like “My name’s no longer Siri – it’s Anthony Albanese.”

Thanks ladies and gentlemen, I’ve been Chad Bean.  Goodnight.