Herald Sun

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The Herald Sun: A balanced, impartial voice leading the nation forward

“You always were a bit soft, Bolt...”
~ The average Herald Sun reader’s reaction to Andrew Bolt’s latest column

The Herald Sun is a newspaper based in Melbourne, Australia, usually referred to as The Herald Scum due to the nature of its content and readership. Even the newspaper’s readership itself refers to The Herald Sun by its commonly used colloquial name, as Herald Sun readers are incapable of questioning the status quo.

No literate person would be seen dead with a copy of The Herald Sun, but in the event that one ill-advisedly purchases a copy, do not allow the newspaper to come into contact with one’s bare skin, as a chip will sprout on one’s shoulder within three days if the publication contains an article authored by Jill Singer.

edit History

edit Origins

The Herald Sun newspaper was formed in 1990 by News Corp. The newspaper’s printing presses were built in the Toorak home of Herald Sun journalist Andrew Bolt, as he had huge quantities of paper stored there. This was the list of names of Aboriginal children removed from their families (as part of the Stolen Generation) presented to Bolt by Robert Manne, Professor of Politics at La Trobe University, when Bolt challenged him to “name just ten” children removed “for purely racist reasons”. The newspaper’s presses are situated in Bolt’s home to this day, as the stockpile of paper has still not run out.

edit Recent operation

Despite the paper being held in low regard, it is currently the highest-circulating daily newspaper in Australia, with a weekday circulation of 515,000 and readership of 1,500,000. This is due to the fact that when three of the paper’s sheets are each crumpled a little and then layered together, their texture very closely resembles that of Quilton 3-ply toilet paper; “The best a bum can buy”. Homeless people cannot afford this brand of toilet paper, despite what the product’s motto possibly implies, but they can afford a copy of The Herald Sun each week.

edit Weekly native Australian fauna specials


The issue that left the staff writers of the Northern Territorian fuming with envy

Like all Australian newspapers, The Herald Sun is noted- but more often mocked- for its weekly special issues that focus on a particular native Australian animal. A recurring theme is crocodiles, or “crocs” (as distinct from the footwear, which is ever so slightly safer to insert your feet into).

edit Extracts

The following are extracts from The Herald Sun (not really).

edit ‘Warne case dropped’

All-round top bloke Shane Warne is no longer facing legal action over an alleged incident with a cyclist on the road.

Michael Hardy, 29, unmarried, probably gay, probably a Greens voter, launched a civil dispute in an attempt to get Warne to pay him damages, with the repair bill for his la-di-da hi-tech bicycle coming in at $1050. $1050? I could buy a shitload of kangaroo steak for that amount of dosh. And pay a foreign person to cook it for me with the remainder.

Warne never paid damages (quite right if you ask me; he didn’t owe that tailgater a cent) because Hardy, when attempting to launch the case in what was most likely a hilariously effeminate fashion, lost his balance, dropped the case and broke it, rendering it invalid in Australian courts...

edit ‘Carpet can be a real killer’

Okay, well, not really; not in the sense that it can actually kill you, but definitely in a vague sense that warrants the use of a sensationalistic title like ‘Carpet can be a real killer’. Yeah. Are you concerned now? Are you actually reading this? Still? Oh. Enjoying your read, aren’t you? This is a good paper. It’s printed on good pap- no, that wasn’t an invitation to wipe your arse with it!

edit ‘Our piss-ant society (youse can all go get stuffed)’

Has society become so piss-weak that we’re causing these bloody “allergies” that the kids are getting nowadays? You bet it has, sonny Jim! Nobody got these pussy “allergies” when I was young.

Why, back in my day, if some lanky little nancy-boy told me and my mates they couldn’t eat my dear mother’s peanut brittle because of an “allergy”, we’d shove some right down their throat, we would. Then we’d hold him down, touch his penis and call him girls’ names.

Yep- nobody got “allergies” back then.

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