This time each year, members of the commentariat dust off their hairshirts or wait for their Southern Cross transfer tattoos to dry before assaulting the Australian public with their views on why the date for Australia Day should or should not be changed.

I confess, at the risk of having my latte and chardonnay confiscated, to having considered the annual display of handwringing and chest-thumping to be full of sound and fury, signifying nothing – a third-rate argument about a second-rate issue. I was wrong.