Bill Shorten gives his wife the golden headshake
September 21st 2008 00:16
Labor MP, Collingwood fan, husband of three beautiful children and cement mixer, Bill Shorten has dropped a bombshell on his wife by revealing to her, his one and only, that he, his one true love, was leaving her, for butter or worse, to pursue a career in politics.
"It's not true that you can't be a public figure and still have a private life," Shorten, just under six-foot, told his trowel as he stole underwear from the communal washing line of his apartment complex, gently warping the smut from his dribbling aroma-catcher.
A lifelong devotee of serving causes greater than himself, Shorten has figuratively defended his right to pursue the daughter of the Queen's erected appointment in our little ant-hill, as the crumpling empire, an ever imploding construction of concrete ideals, blew up in our farces.
"It's not true that you can't drop your wife in cement and build a house on her," the embattled MP, once shouted as a future fuhrer, wrote in his dying blood as he sat on a bench outside the widow of his beloved, piddling his thumbs while his wife stunk steeper still.
Collingwood president, and taut-fisted Scot, Eddie McGuire has been quick to distance himself from the refrigerator, a good white thing that crassly houses chilled air, as he prepared to front the Medea, after informing her of his interest in perusing the scene, aswell.
"It's not true that you can't be a public figure and still have a private life," Shorten, just under six-foot, told his trowel as he stole underwear from the communal washing line of his apartment complex, gently warping the smut from his dribbling aroma-catcher.
A lifelong devotee of serving causes greater than himself, Shorten has figuratively defended his right to pursue the daughter of the Queen's erected appointment in our little ant-hill, as the crumpling empire, an ever imploding construction of concrete ideals, blew up in our farces.
"It's not true that you can't drop your wife in cement and build a house on her," the embattled MP, once shouted as a future fuhrer, wrote in his dying blood as he sat on a bench outside the widow of his beloved, piddling his thumbs while his wife stunk steeper still.
Collingwood president, and taut-fisted Scot, Eddie McGuire has been quick to distance himself from the refrigerator, a good white thing that crassly houses chilled air, as he prepared to front the Medea, after informing her of his interest in perusing the scene, aswell.
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Comment by Chris Champion
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Is there no end to Norm's talents? How does it feel, Norm? Did you imagine this level of success when you set out to write this piece? Do you see any mountains left to climb?
Comment by Morgan Bell
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Comment by Norm
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Morgan, it's the kids I'd feel sorry for. If I could feel sorry. It's been so long since I felt anything. Other than the keys beneath my thingers.
My tip for the Brownlow: Geelong by 23 points.