Hung Parliament Or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love My Vote

This year’s federal election was pretty average for me. I was devo that I got there too late for the barbeque but at least I was afforded the simple pleasure of holding hands with my girlfriend as we passed the liberal supporters (did I mention one of my all time favourite oxymorons is “gay liberal”?). Three out of the four didn’t even bother to flap their how to vote cards all up in my grill but there’s always one: “Voting liberals?" He accused, “NO!” I replied, sticking my hand in his face in a very Stop in The Name of Love inspired gesture.



What fun.

Then I made my vote, a simple line in a box, a simple line which actually counted towards something. Unlike the 618,435 (as at Sunday afternoon) dickheads who got together in all there stupidity to cast a record number of donkey votes. Liberal or labour, we can all agree on one thing: donkey voters are the ones to be blamed for our political predicament. Yes, I understand it’s likely our country could have been just as gridlocked had the donkeys voted but these are trying times and the finger of blame is at its most seductive right now.

I can put those responsible for bringing the curse of a hung parliament upon is into 3 main categories. I’d like to introduce an example of each, explain the reasons why they’re a fuckwit and the action you can take in dealing with them lest you should meet one in day to day life (two words: dick punch).

“Hi I’m fuckwit #1, I placed a donkey vote because I was making a stand. Examples of my work include writing political messages or symbols on my ballot paper. I take great pleasure in later telling my friends about the witty and creative means I used to stick it to the man!”

Let me tell you something, dear fuckwit, so as to shed some light on what becomes of your heroic political stand. I worked at the state election last year so this is straight from the horse’s mouth. I want you to cast your mind back to the poll booth you visited on Saturday the 21st of August. Now think of the people who ticked your name off the electoral roll and gave you your ballot paper: a handful of retirees, a couple of bored looking uni students and the one overzealous team leader with bad cologne. Got that image? These are the people who count the votes at the end of the day.

Working the election is really good money but it’s a set lump sum so you don’t get paid more if you have to stay late. As you can imagine, after sitting there for almost 12 hours in the stuffy basement of a church or school, no one is in the mood to drag out the vote count. It’s all done as quickly and thoroughly as possible: The votes are sorted into piles (liberal, labour, greens, donkeys etc) and then counted several times before a whole lot of official type hoo-ha to finish off.

Your grand political statement spends about half a second under the eye of someone who doesn’t care and just wants to get the votes counted so they can go home. But not to worry, I’m sure that Martha, the little old retiree was deeply moved by the stand you took against our government before she put your ballot into the “bin” pile.


(This is a long blog, if you need to get up to take whizz, now is a good time)


“Hi, I’m fuckwit #2 and I just don’t care about my vote or politics in general, examples of my type include those who hand in a blank ballot or who deliberately fill out my ballot incorrectly so as to void its validity.”

Sure you don’t care, that’s fair enough, each to their own I suppose. But really, you’ve just driven to the polling booth on a Saturday, wrestled your way into a car park, lined up in the hot sun, waded through a sea of how to vote cards and now you’re going to strip any point from this whole excruciating outing? It’s. A. Line. In. A. Box. Any stoner monkey can draw a line in a box. If you really don’t care about the people that will decide everything from the internet sites you can visit to the price it will cost you to eat, shit and sleep for the next three years, at least flip a fucking coin. That way you can rest assured the petrol you wasted driving to the polling booth wasn’t totally in vain. If that’s too hard for you then ask someone who does care and copy them: monkey see, monkey do, you fuckwit.

“Hi, I’m fuckwit #3 and I hate politicians. I’m often confused with fuckwit #2 but the difference is I have some slither of an education and am frustrated by the crappy choice of party policy. So, like the big baby I am, I threw a tantrum on Election Day and cast a dud vote. I sure showed them.”

Here’s a thought you fucking child: NO ONE likes any politicians. But to quote Looking For Alibrandi, “In Australia we don’t vote to get the best party in, we vote to keep the worst party out.” (Or something along those lines). So grow the fuck up, use your brain, and choose the party you hate the least. Simply draw A LINE IN THE BOX of that party and you can go home knowing that as much as you hate whoever you voted for, it could be worse. And if you’re still not convinced, refer to fuckwit #2, because you’ve probably overestimated yourself and belong back there.


Phew. Glad that’s off my chest. To think we live in a world where there is so much bloodshed in the name of basic democratic rights yet we the minority that have a say in who governs us would throw that away. There are people starving in the world but you don’t make a 3 course dinner every night and throw it straight in the bin so why do the same with your vote?

Dickheads.