David Penberthy: It’s a celebration of free speech, aimed at yahoos who claim that theirs is under threat

One Aussie legend has proved free speech is still alive and well despite the protests of the caravan lunatics and hypocrites in Canberra right now, writes David Penberthy.

WARNING: the following column contains fruity language, directed at someone who richly deserved it, on a subject that’s ripe for ridicule.

Not since Apollo 11 astronaut Buzz Aldrin punched a moon landing denier has an elderly man done so much to promote the cause of science and challenge stereotypes surrounding the elderly.

Australia has a new hero. He is an anonymous and foul-mouthed old bloke from Canberra who let rip at a different category of lunatics this week.

In Aldrin’s case, he finally cracked after years of stalking by lunar landing conspiracist Bart Sibrel, who copped a decent whack from Buzz after badgering and pursuing the then 73-year-old astronaut into the foyer of a Beverley Hills Hotel in 2002.

Our local hero emerged this week on the congested streets of Canberra, congested thanks to the actions of the anti-vax, anti-lockdown protesters laying siege to our capital, even though the lockdown part of the pandemic has nothing to do with the feds and everything to do with the states and their rule-happy bureaucrats.

Like many other long-suffering Canberrans during this ongoing protest, the old guy found himself stuck in traffic on one of the ring roads near federal parliament.

While siting motionless behind the wheel, a young “citizen journalist” filming the protest for his propagandist purposes thought he would approach the seemingly genial old man to see what he made of it all.

Demonstrators at Parliament House, Canberra. Picture: NCA NewsWire / Martin Ollman

“What do you think of all this?” the young man asked, filming him without permission by impertinently aiming his phone camera through the old man’s car window.

“I think it’s bloody ridiculous,” he replied. “They’ve got no common sense at all. Vaccination is the only thing saving the population.”

“You reckon vaccinations are saving us?” the young man asked, perplexed.

“Absolutely. At my age, I need it. Somebody like you may not.”

Things then escalated.

“You’re a c----.” the old guy said.

“I’m a what?” the stunned youngster asked.

“You’re a c----.” the old guy repeated.

“Thank you for that kind word,” the young guy said. “You might want to put your mask on again.”

The old guy concluded with this:

“Oh get f---ed, p--- off, go back to wherever you came from, you piece of s--t.”

There are so many things to like about this I don’t know where to start.

The first is that it’s one of the punchiest arguments for the logic of vaccination I have ever read. Vaccinations are protecting the community. I got vaccinated because I’m old and don’t want to die, thanks.

The second is that it’s an absolute clinic in the art of Australian swearing, made better by the fact that it shifts so swiftly from thoughtful, science-based analysis to unexpected full-blown profanity. It has the element of surprise. It is also meticulous in that it checks every key swear word and uses it to perfect effect.

The third is that it’s a celebration of free speech, aimed at a bunch of yahoos who wrongly claim that theirs is under threat.

Comedian Joe Rogan. Picture: Carmen Mandato

We have heard a lot of paranoid First Amendment malarkey spouted on behalf of Joe Rogan, under siege as he apparently is from an ageing Canadian guitarist, yet still producing the most listened-to podcast on the planet today. We have heard the confused indignation of the Canberra protesters ranting about their freedoms of speech and association being under threat, while simultaneously exercising both of those freedoms.

Our old mate gave them some pithy free speech in return, delivered on behalf of the 90-plus per cent of us with a deference to mainstream science and a reliance on facts over internet fancy.

The fourth and most excellent part of it was seeing a bloke who looks like he’s on the wrong side of 80 go absolutely mental and give zero you-know-whats in the process.

That’s the part of this story that most appeals to me, as a 52-year-old for whom old age doesn’t quite beckon, but is making itself perceptible in nearing distance on the horizon.

Before his untimely death in his early 70s a few years back, a mate of mine by the name of Bob Foord used to love telling the following joke which has become one of my favourites, too. He billed it as his grumpy old man joke:

An older guy has been laid off from work and gets put on a job-hunting list by a placement agency.

Before he is offered new employment, he first has to attend the agency where he is interviewed by a young female HR consultant to review an aptitude form he has filled in.

“I couldn’t help but notice that in the list of strengths and weaknesses, you have written ‘honesty’ as a weakness,” she asks him.

“That’s right,” he answers.

“I don’t regard honesty as a weakness,” she says.

“I don’t give a f--- what you think,” he replies.

There is a certain I don’t give a toss-ness that only comes with age. Watch the video. As the Canberra old guy utters those immortal lines, he has the look of someone who simply doesn’t care, a look of disdain that you only earn and have the right to exercise when you’ve made it through about five or six more decades than the jumped-up little twerp sticking an iPhone in your face.

For anyone who has ever regarded the elderly as passive and dithering old buggers bobbing around in a delirium in the sea of life, the Canberra old guy is the best thing I’ve seen since Buzz Aldrin, and every bit as funny as Bob Foord’s joke. He’s Walt Kowalski without a gun. He is also the perfect antidote to a mob who are so logically challenged that in the same breath they will oppose vaccination and agitate against lockdown, too dim to realise that the absence of the first begets the second.