
Let’s not beat around the bush: the prime minister is a battler.
Yes, Anthony Albanese, who sat in the dark corner of his childhood home in government housing (Yuck!), tugging on his bootstraps so hard he tugged himself off all the way to Kirribilli.
If he were a battlebot — rumour is he’s part droideka — he’d have a big chainsaw and jerry-rigged flamethrower, tipping all the weaker battlebots (single mothers, the disabled, the unemployed, dregs et al.) into the open pits of eternal loserdom, where they belong. He’s done as much to his erstwhile tenant earlier this week, evicting him to sell the property (which isn’t a prerequisite, by the way).
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