🎭 WA’s Big Top: The Greatest Clown Show on Earth

If you’ve ever thought Western Australia was a serious place, run by serious people, I regret to inform you that you’ve been tragically misled. What we’ve actually got is the most expensive circus in the Southern Hemisphere, complete with a revolving cast of clowns, a few pantomime villains, and enough hot air to inflate the Hindenburg twice over. The WA Government isn’t so much a parliament as it is an extended comedy festival that no one asked to buy tickets for — and yet, here we all are, paying through the nose to watch it night after night.

Now, you’d think with the size of the state, the vast resources, the bloody wealth pouring out of the ground, we’d be running like a well-oiled machine. But instead, we’re a banana stand being managed by people who couldn’t organise a pub raffle. And worse — they think they’re geniuses. They strut around the stage in their cheap suits like rockstars, convinced they’re the Rolling Stones, when in reality they’re the Wiggles after a rough night on meth.

So let’s take a proper tour of this clown show.

🎪 Mark McGowan: The Ringmaster Who Left Mid-Show

Every circus needs a ringmaster — someone to crack the whip, roar at the audience, and convince you that the chaos around you is all part of the plan. For years, that was Mark McGowan. He ruled WA with the smug authority of a Year 7 kid who got handed a whistle and suddenly thinks he’s headmaster. Remember those daily press conferences? He stood there in front of the cameras, dead eyes glinting like a bingo caller who hated his job, telling us we were naughty children who couldn’t go outside.

And people loved it. I mean, they worshipped him. WA went through a full-on McGowan cult phase. You’d think he was Elvis Presley the way some folks carried on. People were sticking his face on mugs, T-shirts, maybe even underwear if we’re being honest. Never mind the fact that he turned WA into the world’s biggest prison colony since, well… the first one. McGowan did the old magician’s trick: while everyone was hypnotised by his stern-dad act, he locked the doors and pocketed the keys.

And then what did he do? He bailed. Packed up his whip and walked out mid-show. No finale, no encore, no apology for the trauma. Just “Thanks for the cult, I’m off to corporate land.” The bloke cashed out like a poker player who knew the table was rigged and left the chips for someone else to clean up.

🤡 Roger Cook: The Second-Rate Stand-In

Enter Roger Cook, our new ringmaster. If McGowan was Elvis, Cook is the cover band you get at the local bowls club. His charisma lands somewhere between “local councillor who’s been at it too long” and “man explaining printer settings.” He inherited McGowan’s job like a bloke who won the meat tray raffle and didn’t actually want it.

Cook struts out like he’s got the answers, but half the time he looks like he’s reading them off the back of a Weet-Bix box. He’s not leading — he’s babysitting. Every press conference feels like he’s trying to prove he’s not just keeping the chair warm, while simultaneously tripping over his own shoelaces. The public knows it. Even his own colleagues know it. He’s basically the substitute teacher of WA politics: everyone pretends to listen, but nobody respects him, and half the class sneaks out the window anyway.

🧙‍♀️ The Side Acts: Woke Witches and Toll Trolls

But no circus is complete without side acts, and WA has got a lineup so bizarre it makes Monty Python look like a documentary.

• Amber-Jade Sanderson: The High Priestess of Health Hysteria. She wields her syringe staff like Gandalf, chanting “Trust the Science!” in Latin while ignoring that her own policies collapse faster than a folding chair at a BBQ.

• Rita Saffioti: The Toll Troll of WA. She lives under the Metronet bridge, demanding taxes from anything that dares move. Trucks, cars, bikes, pedestrians — hell, if you so much as fart in a moving vehicle, Rita wants 50 cents.

• Sue Ellery: The Woke Witch of Curriculum. She rewrites history with her trusty red pen and a deck of BLM flashcards. Australian history? Too harsh. Science? Too racist. Math? Coloniser numbers. One plus one equals “acknowledge country.”

• Stephen Dawson: The Carbon Cultist. This bloke cycles around on a recycled bicycle wearing a climate mask, preaching Net Zero like it’s gospel. His sermons could power the entire east coast if you plugged them into a turbine.

It’s not governance, it’s a medieval fair with worse costumes.

🎤 The Groupies: Wong, Payman, Thorpe

Of course, every circus has groupies hanging around backstage. Enter Penny Wong, Fatima Payman, and Lidia Thorpe. They don’t even bother pretending to be subtle. They’re like the fangirls of authoritarian theatre, clutching their autographed “WEF Forever” posters.

• Penny Wong floats in like the headmistress of wokery, always disappointed, always scolding, like we’re late to choir practice.

• Fatima Payman, the apprentice, tries to look serious but can’t decide whether she’s rebelling or auditioning for the next series of Married at First Sight.

• Lidia Thorpe is the wild card. She shows up like the drunk aunt at Christmas, yelling about land rights while nicking the pavlova. You never know if she’s about to start a revolution or pass out on the couch.

🚗 Barry Zempilas: The Opposition Leader in a Clown Car

And then we have the “opposition.” Oh, don’t laugh — they exist. Barry Zempilas, mayor-turned-Opposition Leader, drives the clown car. Trouble is, he can’t find the steering wheel. Barry’s political presence is like a wet lettuce at a steakhouse. He’s supposed to be holding the government to account, but he spends more time holding press conferences that sound like rejected Footy Show segments.

He’s the bloke who rocks up to a gunfight with a balloon animal. Every time he tries to attack Labor, it’s like watching a toddler throw foam blocks at a brick wall. Even Labor MPs chuckle. He’s their secret weapon: the man who proves that opposition in WA is more of a hobby than a job.

📢 Mock Policy Announcements

Now, if this circus was just boring, that’d be one thing. But no — they insist on rolling out policies that make you wonder if there’s gas leaks in Parliament House. Picture these headlines:

• “WA Government announces Metronet expansion to Narnia, complete with taxpayer-funded unicorn stables.”

• “New mask mandate introduced for pigeons, effective immediately in Murray Street Mall.”

• “Carbon tax on backyard barbecues — pay up or your snags are contraband.”

• “Amber-Jade Sanderson proposes QR codes for Christmas gatherings.”

• “WA Health Department to ban laughter in hospitals — too many respiratory risks.”

And we’re meant to nod and clap.

👏 Audience Participation: The Voters

But here’s the cruel twist: the audience keeps showing up. WA voters treat this circus like a family tradition. “Oh look, Labor’s announcing another toll, better buy a ticket.” We complain, we whinge, we roast them at barbies, but come election day? People line up like loyal punters, shoving their cash at the box office for another round.

It’s Stockholm syndrome mixed with bingo night. The same crowd that moans about rising costs suddenly goes weak at the knees for the same politicians who raised them. It’s like dating someone who keeps stealing your wallet, but you stay because they once cooked you dinner.

🎆 Grand Finale: Hire Real Clowns

So here’s my solution: let’s just cut out the middleman. Sack the lot of them and bring in actual circus clowns. At least real clowns admit they’re clowns. At least real clowns make you laugh before they nick your wallet. WA Parliament could be run by jugglers, fire-breathers, and a bloke who eats swords — and it would still be more competent than what we’ve got now.

In fact, make it a tourism event: “Come to WA, see the only parliament in the world where the members wear squeaky shoes and honk horns when they vote.” Tell me that wouldn’t draw more respect than the lot we’ve got.

Because at the end of the day, folks, the WA Government is a clown show. Always has been. Always will be. And the real tragedy isn’t the clowns on stage — it’s the audience who keeps buying tickets.