Has there ever been a manlier party than the current Liberals? Has there ever been a party oozing with more testosterone, bursting with more machismo, thrusting itself through the political hurly-burly with more irrepressibly tumescent force than this proud collection of men, and in a way, women, who stand now trembling on the threshold of government, ready to seize the reins of this out-of-control mustang and canter triumphantly into a brighter future?
(NOTE: THE FOLLOWING IS PURELY AND SIMPLY MY OWN OPINION. IF YOUR OPINION DIFFERS, GOOD LUCK TO YOU. LET A THOUSAND FLOWERS BLOOM ETC)
So as a professional television thingummy, what do I think of Ben Elton Live From Planet Earth?
Having missed the first episode because of urgent recreational demands, I tuned in to the second, having heard mostly terrible things. Not surprising things, mind: somehow, from everything I'd read, it just sounded like it wasn't quite going to work.
And so it came to pass.
Because gee, I mean, it's a bad show. Like, really bad. It's a show that has a strong feel of having been written by a TAFE scriptwriting class during their first-day workshop. It's so bad it makes Comedy Inc look...well, not good, but it makes me think about Comedy Inc, which is unforgivable.
I didn't get to the end - not, I should note, because I couldn't stand anymore, though it was a close-run thing, but because of a prior commitment that meant I had to leave - but presumably the show was pretty heavily back-ended with guests, since Tim Minchin and Fiona O'Loughlin hadn't been on yet. Canny move - had they been on in the first fifteen minutes I doubt anyone would have been watching by the half-hour mark.
Ben Elton apparently writes all the scripts for the sketches himself. I can only assume that with such a workload, he has resorted to writing scripts as follows:
Two people enter.
They talk in funny voices.
The end.
What we were served up was a succession of sketches on the following themes:
Doesn't Julia Gillard talk funny?
Don't teenagers talk funny?
Don't wealthy snobs talk funny?
And for a bit of variety: Isn't young people's music terribly hard to understand?
This is correct: comedy legend Ben Elton, the daring comic innovator of years past, now cannot summon forth any better than funny voices and the odd bit of half-hearted Grumpy Old Mannery.
It even permeates his stand-up - whining about Twitter in the manner of an OAP trying to program his VCR. The rest of his stand-up seemed to be fixated mainly on Shane Warne. Who, you know, has quite a lot of sex which is funny.
Not that the stand-up was THAT bad. Just...average. Which is what was to be expected because truth be told Elton's always been an average stand-up. To make a great show he needs to offer Elton the comedy writer at the peak of his skills. Which he has not.
"A little bit of satire," Elton informed us after the Gillard "King's Speech" sketch, which was nice of him, given there's no way we would have known otherwise. I certainly wouldn't have known it was satire, I would have thought it was a lame sketch about the prime minister's accent, mashed together with a sort-of-but-not-really movie parody written by someone who didn't actually know anything about the movie he was trying to parody, all creating the overwhelming impression that the entire production team had overslept and woken up five minutes before airtime with no idea what to do.
Following this was the sketch about teenagers talking funny, which was apparently predicated on the idea that Australian audiences felt that Kylie Mole left our screens too soon; and the one about some other people who also had comical voices and were no doubt making some scathingly satirical point.
Then there came the one with the R&B; singer singing about how hard her rapping partner was to understand, which was the point at which it became clear that Ben Elton Live From Planet Earth was aspiring to comedic heights rarely seen outside the world of the Year 8 talent show.
Good Lord but it was dire. Every joke had me wincing as it burrowed deep into my flesh before unfolding its iron barbs of badness. The tired unoriginality of each concept thumped dully in my skull, a suck-migraine of nauseating proportions.
I think it was a mistake for him to write it all himself. At the very least it was a mistake for him to channel Ian MacFadyen while doing so.
Then there was Elaine Front. I had heard she was the one bright spot in the first week, and after seeing her...I guess? Sort of? I mean she wasn't very funny, but I suppose she wasn't as UNfunny as everything around her. Basically Elaine Front is a sub-Norman Gunston stab at comedic celeb-interviewing, raising an occasional smirk and a constant musing on how much better Gunston, Pixie-Annne, Sacha Baron Cohen, Steven Colbert and any number of others do it. The twist with Elaine is that to be honest the celebrity is superfluous to her process - although the concept is Gunston, the execution is Edna Everage - essentially what the character does is talk about herself. In, of course, a funny voice. Ha ha.
So it's true, Elaine Front is the best thing about Live From Planet Earth. It is also true that if Elaine Front is the best thing about your show, you are in desperate, desperate trouble.
It's sad, but true. This is not The Young Ones. It's not Blackadder. It's not even The Thin Blue Line. Ben Elton is a mighty name in the annals of TV comedy. Every minute of Live From Planet Earth diminishes that name just a little bit. I tweeted while watching that it was like the day you realise you can beat up your dad. Oh well.
So anyway look, Live From Planet Earth is a dreadful show and it was a painful, painful time in my life that I spent watching it. But let's not dwell. Let's look back to happier times in the life of the energetic Mr Elton.
Did you miss the return of Q&A; last night? I bet you're kicking yourself and thinking you'll feel really left out in conversations for the next week and nobody will be your friend and probably you will die.
No need! I was taking notes the whole time, and here present my official Q&A; Recap/Cheat Sheet For People Who Are Too Lazy and Ignorant to Watch the Show.
It went like this:
The show began with host Tony Jones, as usual, in the central panel position, a mooted move to a hovering cage above the set having been scrapped in pre-production. On his right sat Catherine Deveny, in between Graham Richardson and Gerard Henderson, or what political scientists call "the Corned-Beef Sandwich Formation". On Jones's left sat David Williamson and Amanda Vanstone, an estranged couple from Mount Gambier looking to rekindle the spark in their marriage.
The show began briskly enough, as Jones went around the panel asking each member in turn whether they were a climate scientist. Having established that, in fact, none of them were climate scientists, a hearty sigh of relief was emitted by all and the contestants shook hands politely in preparation for the coming hostilities.
The first question was asked by a thickset man in traditional Burmese dress, and was addressed to Graham "Graho" Richardson: "How often do you buy new underpants?" Richardson responded with a baleful glare and some graphic hand gestures, and the show was genuinely afoot!
The applause having died down, another audience member now stood to address a question to Amanda Vanstone. "Who is looking after your dog?" the young lady asked pointedly. Vanstone responded that Tim Fischer had promised to look in from time to time, which drew audible gasps from the rest of the panel. Vanstone immediately winced, as if realising her tactical blunder too late.
At this point Deveny leapt onto the ceiling and demonstrated her spider-walk, which was warmly appreciated by all.
Tony Jones himself asked the next question, in his guise as "Ol' Mother Standish". "How do you sleep at night?" he asked the panel at large, forcing each member to climb onto the desk and demonstrate their bedtime poses.
Following this came another question from the audience, this time posed by a small fawn in the front row, who asked whether anyone on the panel had considered the possibility that our main problem was that Australia was too wide in the middle? Vanstone responded that she had always wanted to cut some bits of the country off, whereupon Deveny leapt upon her and bit off her lips.
At this point Williamson thumped on the desk and announced he had written a play that everybody had to perform. Titled "Betrayal: A Farce", the play followed the adventures of Stanley, an inept yet loveable fieldmouse, who travels to the big city to visit his cousin Yvette, but on the way falls in with a gang of disreputable roughnecks who dub him "Prince Otto" and force him to perform peculiar favours for them. When he gets to the city, Stanley discovers Yvette murdered by pirates and his childhood home converted to a bikini carwash, where he gains employment and quickly dies.
Gerard Henderson is to play Stanley. The play only lasted five minutes, but still surprised with the frequency and volume of the obscenities uttered.
Following the play, the entire cast took their bows, and Henderson returned to his seat, where he sighed heavily and gazed mournfully at Deveny for the remainder of the programme.
The next question came from a super-intelligent hivemind who had come to the show as part of a group of Young Liberals. "Why not crack down on the Spaniards?" it suggested jauntily. To this, Vanstone responded with a vague shrug, Williamson with a lengthy dry retch, Richardson with a clever balloon animal trick, Deveny with an explanation of how a Van Der Graaf Generator works, and Henderson with a poignant declaration that he was "the saddest little bear in all the forest". At this point Jones broke in to admit that he, too, had often thought of cracking down on the Spaniards, but feared reprisals from the shadowy cabal of industrialists and master-criminals to whom he owed his broadcasting career. Seemingly in a candid mood, Jones then lit up a spliff and waxed eloquent on the question of "just what is it all about, y'know?" After several minutes Jones fell down behind the desk, never to emerge for the duration of the show.
Seeing her chance, Deveny then declared herself moderator, and demanded that Vanstone "shake what her mama gave her", to which suggestion Richardson reacted with a loud whooping sound and a sinister brandishing of electric clippers, the purpose of which he refused to divulge.
A brief, violent struggle between the opposite sides of the panel then ensued, before the heaving mass of punditry collided with the camera, causing the show to be replaced by a blank screen for several minutes. When transmission resumed, Henderson was alone in the studio, rubbing linseed oil into his abdomen and crying softly to himself.
I do apologise for the lapse in posting. This time it's not apathy, it's the fact we've just moved house, and we don't have the internet on yet. Needs a new washer or something. Anyway, I'm snatching a quick moment of out-of-home time just to let you know I'm still here, and exciting things are happening. It will be a big year indeed, and not just for me, and not just for extreme weather events, and not just for people who like to point out how wooden Julia Gillard is. For all of us.
It will be reporting, dissecting, analysing and all that jazz throughout the year. If you love it, and why wouldn't you, do take out a subscription to keep it going into 2012 and beyond.
I myself will be contributing regularly to NM; my first of the new year is imminent, stay tuned.
In the meantime, tide yourself over with my contribution to a spiffy little mag called the King's Tribune, where I have noticed certain things.
Have you been wondering why this country is in such trouble?
No need to wonder: Greg Wild is here to explain it to you!
Government is unconstitutional
IT is most important that Australians be brought up to date with the current status of the Australian Parliament and the republican movement.
The method of constitutional change being pursued at this time without the realisation of all Australians and without referendums is the alteration of the 1901 language of the constitution.
The land masses Victoria and NSW were changed in 1980 by an unlawful judgment of the High Court (Ward vs the Queen).
In this case those responsible for proper evidence left out the position of the original surveyed line and included a section 5 of an invalid part of an Act for Better Government 1855 which was not Crown approved and too late to effect the Separation Act of 1850.
The word "discrimination" is practised in Australia by the Australian government.
Indigenous people were Australian people or residents of a state in the constitution in 1901 and therefore equally treated.
The world "reasonable" appears in section 100 of the constitution but today applies to illegal agreements.
Today's prime minister isn't qualified to hold the office in the 1901 meaning because she refuses to take the proper oath inter alia.
She was sworn in by the solicitor general, not the governor general; did not win the last election and does not recognise the right of the people's parliament to defeat legislation.
There is no authority or responsibility to legislate something called climate change without a referendum to include it in the constitution.
Tony Abbott might have been prime minister but the majority of his party are republicans and therefore do not recognise referendums.
Probably, had you been asked a week ago, "Who is Ben Pobjie's least-favourite person in the history of the universe?" you would have said, "Oh, easy, that would be Kate Middleton of Toowoomba, who is famous for not being engaged to a prince or having any interesting characteristics whatsoever, and whose presence in actual newspapers heralds the coming of the Beast."
First of all, don't let teenagers crash press conferences. Keep teenagers OUT of press conferences. Michael Clarke gets harassed by morons everywhere he goes: wouldn't you think an official press conference would be the one place he would feel entitled to expect an absence of mouthy 17-year-old twits gibbering up-themselves wankery at him?
Secondly, Daniel Brew, put your manners back in. I realise you're just a kid with a dream: a dream to get your picture in the paper without having to do anything useful, productive or worthwhile, but you're dumb and you're obnoxious and you should shut up and show some respect to the captain of your national cricket team.
Especially given Brew plays in the fourth XI competition of the Geelong Cricket Association, which means that as a cricketer, he is not good enough to make the third-best team of a local club in a minor suburban competition. How's keeping your head over the ball working for you down in the fourths, Danny?
Let's tally up the scores so far:
Michael Clarke: 4742 Test runs at an average of 46.49 with 14 Test centuries; 5777 ODI runs at an average of 43.43 with 5 centuries;
Daniel Brew: One ugly haircut.
Statistics don't lie.
But look, it's only fair to see what the critique of the lad actually was, to see if it has any merit. Let's see...
"You should be playing the ball under your nose and at eye level"
OH MY GOD HE IS A GENIUS! It's hard to believe that Daniel Brew, at the tender age of seventeen, is capable of reading a "Cricket for Beginners" pamphlet.
"Playing the ball under your nose"? That's his advice? That's the insightful analysis that got this uppity little rind of twonk into the papers? Seriously? That's it? That's all he's got? A technique tip that you learn at your first training session in Under Sixes?
Wow, that'll blow Clarke's mind, won't it? I bet he never even THOUGHT of that!
WOW! How does he come UP with these? How can we neglect to laud the brilliance of this precocious young Mozart of cricket, with this revolutionary idea that will turn conventional sporting wisdom on its head: "When you are out of form, why not practise a bit?"
I can see Clarke slapping his forehead: "Of course! Practise batting! It seems so obvious now I think of it, yet it took the wisdom of a child to make me realise that it might be a good idea to PRACTISE the skill by which I earn my living and which the vast majority of my life is devoted to. D'oh!"
And look, the boy genius has kindly DEMONSTRATED for us his secret to success!
Isn't it amazing, the lad's skill? Isn't it incredible how he is able somehow to pose for a photoshoot in a park without any opposition or need to actually hit a ball, with perfect technique, while Michael so-called Clarke is unable to achieve such a perfect stance in the middle of the SCG while trying to hit a ball travelling at 145km/h in the middle of the bat in front of a crowd of thousands with a team of fielders waiting to prey on any mistakes and with the knowledge that failure puts his career in jeopardy?
Just how DOES Brew do it, and why can't Clarke replicate that perfect textbook technique every time a photographer takes a picture of him?
Sign this kid up as head coach immediately, CA, he's got answers for everyone. "I think Mitchell Johnson should bowl straighter". "The slips should try not to drop the ball". "Ponting should bring on a bowler who will take a wicket".
Floods? Oh yeah, we're happy to help. It's what makes Australia great, our willingness to band together when our fellow countrymen are in trouble and put every hand to the tiller to help out. It's mateship, it's the Australian way, it's what makes us unique among nations, our eagerness to help, our can-do spirit, our indefatigable love of pitching in to see our friends through a rough spot.
So absolutely we'll help. We'll work as hard as we can, we'll give till it hurts, we will do everything that is humanly possible to help you poor buggers get back on your feet again. 'Cos we're Australians, and Australians lend a hand when times are tough. With you all the way.
Oh great! Then would you mind perhaps just paying a little bit extra tax for a short while?
HOW DARE YOU WHAT A DISGUSTING NOTION THAT IS COMPLETELY UN-AUSTRALIAN GO TAKE SOME MONEY FROM SOMEONE ELSE LEAVE ME ALONE YOU GREEDY BASTARDS
In today's Herald Sun, prominent columnist/ironman Alan Howe has pointed out how Anna Bligh, in her attempts to cheer up Queenslanders, has revealed the dark, rotten heart of her innate racism. Bligh stands exposed for what she is: racist against Victorians. And possibly Tasmanians and maybe West Australians. Not New South Welsh though, who are pussies.
But the machinations of vicious premiers who use tragedies as opportunities to promulgate their grubby vote-pulling bigotry aside, one part of Howe's think-piece struck me as particularly intriguing:
Not long ago a Queensland Liberal leader went by the name of Denver Beanland, such was the dearth of talent in conservative ranks.
The logic seems to go like this:
1. The Liberal Party had a leader called Denver Beanland. 2. People called Denver Beanland are innately untalented. 3. Therefore, the Liberal Party has no talent.
I'm just wondering what process Howe went through in developing this "funny name=incompetence" theory, and if he could share the workings of his mighty brain with his readers.
I mean, I can see the theory's explanatory power clearly enough: "Why are some politicians talented and some not? Because the untalented ones have names that Alan Howe thinks are odd". It all fits like the cogs of a beautiful watch. I just want to learn more about the process, so I can one day aspire to be an intellectual too, like Alan.
If you are an aspiring writer or a lover of writing looking to make a contribution to recovery efforts for the Queensland floods, Writers On Rafts is the Queensland Writers' Centre's initiative to pull together a collective of writers and wandering publishing-folk to chip in.
Head to the site to check it out - essentially you buy a ticket for $5 and thereby gain a chance to win a writerly prize in one of four categories.
The categories:
Author Visit - where you have a writer of your choice visit your writers' group, book club or school.
Writer Support - a one-on-one workshop, writing session or manuscript assessment from the writer or industry bod of your choice.
Character Name - have your chosen writer name a character in their next book after you.
Book Pack - Win a stack of books from your chosen author, personally signed.
And then there's the Super Special Prize Draw!
All the details of the competition are on the site, and it is raising money for a very, very good cause - all money goes to the Queensland Premier's Flood Relief Appeal. You can enter as many times as you like in as many categories as you choose - the more you enter the more chance you have to win.
As you may have surmised, I am myself a prize in this competition, but there are loads and loads of other high-class slabs of writer up for grabs - like Benjamin Law, Emily Maguire, First Dog On The Moon, Nick Earls, Markus Zusak, Morris Gleitzman, Peter Fitzsimons, Tara Moss, Jessica Rudd (!), Marianne de Pierres, Bec Sparrow, Mem Fox, Kathy Lette, Toni Jordan, and oh so many many more. Tons to choose from.
I just...I just can't believe it. Mocking those poor people. Making FUN of them.
So cruel. So unfeeling.
When did this happen, Ricky? When did you become so acerbic? So snarky? When did you develop this unattractive habit of making jokes at others' expense?
What happened to the Ricky we once knew? The kind, gentle, whimsical Ricky who would make lovely, inoffensive jokes about mothers-in-law and happy woodland creatures? The Ricky who didn't see "comedy" as an excuse to take cheap shots? The Ricky who wanted to make us all feel GOOD about ourselves?
What happened to THIS Ricky? You'd hardly even know it was the same man!
Somewhere, that love of humanity was drowned, sacrificed to the altar of "edginess". And it's a damn shame.
What's more, it's sneaky. One thing is for SURE: When they booked Ricky Gervais to host the Golden Globes, they would have had NO IDEA that he would ever be impolite. That's not the Ricky they knew, or the Ricky we know.
Hang your head, Ricky, and think about where it all went wrong.