The Boomtown Rap Bitchfest Awards For 2011

I’ve wondered, dear reader, about myself and these annual Awards. I really have. I mean, it’s not very nice, is it, what I do? Who sees off the year with a bitchfest?

I would embark on an expansive treatise of self-justification, but I know concentration spans have universally shrivelled, that the web is no place for introspective meanderings and expansive written self-expression. Why then, should I sabotage myself? Would you have me leap lemming-like from the clifftops of injudicious bloggerdom to dash myself on the rocks of readership oblivion?

I will not do it. You get no explanations. You get no apologies. All you get is what you deserve, this year with a lot more pics and a lot less text. See, I’m learning. Dumb it down, graphic it up. So here ya go, leaner and meaner than ever. Ladies, gentlemen, and everything in between, I give ya…

The BR Bitchfest Awards for 2011

I Know Nussink Award:
Murdoch and son

Slapper Of The Year:
Wendi Deng

Look at that speed-blurred hand action, and note that sign of a real pro – the fingers splayed to enhance the possibility of eye damage to the target

Shoulda Said Yes Yes Yes Award:
Amy Winehouse

Scapegoat Of The Year:
Michael Jackson’s doctor, Dr. Conrad Murray

Dr Murray prays for justice during his trial, but ‘justice’ preyed on him.

The Paul Keating ‘Hands Off’ Award:

PM Julia Gillard.

What ya doin’ with yer other hand, Julia?

The Paul Hogan Plastic Surgery Denial Award:

Strewth – and those Macleans!

Precious Petal of the Year Award:
Christopher Pine (thanks to erstwhile Parliamentary speaker Harry Jenkins for this perfect Award title).

The Right Honourable Christopher Pine

Dope Of The Year:

Roo Shooter Of The Year:
Qantas CEO Alan Joyce. Brought t’ Flying Kangaroo down wit’ one shot from his big gun. No softly softly from t’is Oirishman. Tat’s where Sol Trejilio went wrong. T’ colonials need tough lov. Fock t’ government, fock t’ pilots, fock t’ unions, fock t’ customers. Oi’m t’boss and oi’m right – and oi’ll have a 71% pay roise inta t’ baargain. [breaking into song] T’ere was a wild colonial boy…

Branding genius Alan Joyce lays on the Irish charm

Barry Hall Brainsnap Of The Year:
John Daley. After plonking 7 balls in the water on the par 5 11th hole at the Australian Open, Johnboy stormed off the course and out of the tournament. His girlfriend Wendi Denged a photographer as a parting gesture. Golfing officials seem to be intent on banning John from future tournaments. A grave error in judgment, I say. Golf needs John Daly.

Johnboy mounts Hootie and The Blowfish’s Jim ‘Soni’ Sonefeld (I didn’t say anything about his musical taste)

Liberal Party Love-In Of The Year:
Sophisticated, stylish, erudite – how else do you describe the wonderful public face of the Liberal Party at the anti-carbon tax rally in Canberra in March? They were all there, from noble statesman leader Tony Abbot, to Nats luminary Barnaby Joyce, to mums, dads, grandies and kiddies, gently but firmly exercising their democratic rights to vilify Julia Gillard through personal attack. It was warming to note that not one member of this fine community of public-spirited philosophers descended to Gillard’s gutter tactics of discussing the reasons for the carbon tax. It is a mark of Mr Abbott’s class that he has since remained steadfastly loyal to this fine example of Liberal values in action so warmly demonstrated at the rally.

I couldn’t find a pic of the ‘Ditch The Witch’ placard, but no matter. The pic above adequately reflects the quality of the folk in attendance.

Contemporary Feminists Of The Year:
The Liberal Party. Yes, this was the year these progressives stepped out and declared themselves. Highlights were:

  • David Bushby”meowed” at Finance Minister Penny Wong during a Senate inquiry.
  • WA Lib MP Don Randall accused the mining industry of being “pussy-whipped” by Prime Minister Julia Gillard. (It is noteworthy that back in the 90s, Donny the charmer described Democrats leader-turned-Labor MP Cheryl Kernot as having the “morals of an alley cat on heat”).
  • When asked for her response to Don’s accusation, sisterhood high priestess Julie Bishop responded that she was “not offended”. They don’t call ’em ‘liberal’ for nothin’.

  • Egalitarian Feminist Of The Year:
    Julie Bishop, who referred to Kirribilli House as ‘Boganville’, demonstrated she is indeed classless. That is, she has no class at all.

    Julie in typically elegant, dignified mode gently whispering egalitarian sweet nothings in the ear of a cast member from ‘Housos’.

    Drama Queen Of The Year:
    Rafael Nadal, who slid off his chair and collapsed to the floor with cramp during a press conference.

    Oh, the pain…

    …the PAIN…!

    Haircut Of The Year

    Kim Jong Un – it’s that side arch that clinched it.

    Garbage Disposal of The Year:
    Dead heat between Bin Laden, Gadaffi and Kim Jong Il. Actually, strike Bin Laden from that list. He wasn’t the crude despot that Gadaffi and Kim Jong Il were. I abhor fundamentalists/terrorists of all kinds, but it has to be acknowledged that as a guerrilla revolutionary Bin Laden was the biggest deal since Che. He made one hell of a formidable underdog. And his ingenuity in taking on the might of the States was incomparable. Consider the human toll he inflicted through his command, though, and of course the reality beneath the myth is as ugly as it gets. At least, it was.

    Jackass-of-all-trades Award:

    Tony Abbott. Butcher, baker, everything maker. Hasn’t this turkey taken image saturation bombing a bit too far? You expect to see political leaders in yellow hard hats, kissing the occasional baby etc, but fuck me – Mr Rabbit musta set some sort of record this year with his action man/worker kit. He’s been at conveyor belts with migrant workers, baking stuff, gutting fish, sawing wood, blah blah. This one took the cake, though:

    The Herald (I think) came up with a great header for this pic: ‘Full Metal Abbott’. They could have gone one better – ‘Full Mattel Abbott’.

    Fucking For Virginity In Afghanistan Award: The ALP and Liberal Party. At each others’ throats on everything else, our esteemed leaders continue to bed down together on Afghanistan – “the graveyard of empires” going back to Alexander The Great. Alexander’s army of champs came a gutser in Afghanistan, the Brits came a gutser in the 19th C, the Soviets came a gutser in the 20th… Um, isn’t there a message in the history of the place? This ‘war’ is unwinnable – GET US OUT, FUCK YA!!

    Crowd-sourced Novel Of The Year:

    The Wintoning Project (Worst Of Perth blog)
    Just hilarious. Nuts to the The Sydney Morning Herald’s The Necklace project. The Worst Of Perth reprobates are way ahead of ’em.

    To the gold diggers who have flocked to Perth to get their slice of the mining boom pie, and whose rape-and-pillage attitude has contributed to the general selfishness that now characterises this place.

    The gulf between the haves and have-nots is now a yawning chasm, thanks to the two-speed economy – more pronounced here, at the epicentre of the mining boom, than anywhere else in the country. Those stuffing themselves on extravagant helpings of the mining industry pie grow fat, while the rest of us fall ever further behind as boom-driven living costs rise and our pay remains the same.

    So are the well-heeled beneficiaries of the boom distinguished by beaming smiles? Not that I’ve noticed. In fact, Perth’s collective face has never been more glum. Seems to me people are shittier than they’ve ever been. To wit, the aggro on the roads, the weekend glassings and assaults that have become routine, the anger that seems to simmer beneath so many surfaces. Whinging about Perth, once the pastime of the odd malcontent like me, has become passe.

    The thing is, most of the whinging I come across is from the new arrivals who are pulling triple figure incomes from mining-related sources. Why? They don’t really want to be here! That’s the thing with a rape-and-pillage mindset: it’s all about the bucks, and nothing about the community.

    I acknowledge, Perth has never been big on community spirit (state-of-origin football excepted – ask someone who’s been here long enough to remember). But as economic migrants have descended on the place, whatever sense of community there was has gone down the dunny, along with so many of the small things that once compensated for the city’s shortfalls.

    Like my little corner of Brighton Beach, now usurped by family groups with Seth Efrican and Pommy accents who shove their bloody beach umbrellas into the sand right next to you, unaware and uncaring of the personal space etiquette than was once taken for granted. Trivial enough in the scheme of things, yes, but all the small changes add up to a big change. In essence, put it down to a population that has increased too fast for the existing infrastructure, and a selfishness and sense of entitlement amongst a great proportion of the new-arrivals.

    If you’re one of the rape-and-pillage brigade, as you’re whinging about the place with your ex-pat mates and waxing lyrical about the old country, know that Perth lifers are also whinging – about you and the changes you’ve wrought. The difference is, we have nowhere to go back to. You’re camping (albeit in luxury accommodation) where we live. So FUCK YOU.

    Everyone else, Happy New Year.

    Related Posts:
    The Boomtown Rap Free-to-air TV Awards for 2011
    The Boomtown Rap Movie Awards for 2011
    The Boomtown Rap Awards For 2010
    The Boomtown Rap Awards for 2009
    The Boomtown Rap Awards for 2008
    The Boomtown Rap Awards for 2007

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