
New in 2016, Haught Takes are very short posts into which very little thought has gone. They’re exactly the same as my other posts, just half or a quarter of the length.
The name is an exceptionally clever play on words.

Mum: This is a very good haircut. What will this cost, Lucy? How much?
Lucy: Four and six.
Me: And what about in post Victorian England currency?
Mum: Oh, don't be silly, Papa. You said four hundred and six, didn't you?
Lucy: Yes. Silly Papa. Naughty.
Me: $406 sounds like a LOT for a haircut!
Mum: Well this is more than a haircut.
Me: Fair enough. So $406, Lucy?
Lucy: Four and six marse-mallows.
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Yesterday, people in parts of western and south-western Sydney were exposed to a brochure warning "Do not vote Labor" and listing a series of reasons relating to "protecting" families, masturbation and homosexuality.
No person or organisation put their name to the propaganda, but Haught can exclusively reveal exactly how the above flyer came to be.
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In 2017, personal branding has earned a special significance in the world. It's at least as important to humans as a healthy endocrine system and will presumably one day replace our need for a beating heart.
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Only the true innovator understands this cruel truth.
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There are bad bosses, there are decent bosses and there are good bosses. But only great bosses do the following:
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Success Duck is both arcane and immediately familiar. He is an enigma wrapped in the most generic wrapping paper imaginable. He is a fraud. He is a triumph. He is all of us.
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Other traditional insults and pointed adjectives aren't even close: fuck, shit, motherfucking, corporal javelin. Pff. My grandma uses all of them. And she's dead. She just shouts them from her grave as an animated skeleton.
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[My daughter and I] start throwing Duplo bricks at Mum's creepy bald doll, which is slumped in the corner of the room like a drunk auntie at a party she wasn't invited to...
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We passed the pavilion and began to climb the hill towards our house when we all noticed a cricketer having a wizzle up against a fence of a nearby house. He wasn't particularly well hidden - there was just a barely living clump of bush obscuring his dude - but we probably wouldn't have noticed him had it not been for the fact he was emitting wind with gay abandon.
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The year is 2062. A curious young lad asks his grandfather about a long-forgotten set of work techniques known as Agile Methodology.
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“So what do you do for a living, Johnson?”
“Uh… it's Jonathan... I’m a… well, a writer.”
“A writer? You write books? Novels?”
“No, no, no. No. Definitely not.
"No."
"But I do write a little thing… a little columny thing… in the paper.”
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I'll tell you what annoys me about the 'inspirational' memes and quotes that do the rounds on Facebook and LinkedIn? Well, their preposterous oversimplification of the human condition, obviously. But also their ubiquity.
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