Deadline: Barristers go the biff in fiery Ballarat court stoush

A pair of barristers hurled harsh words, then threw hands in a most unprofessional exchange at a Ballarat court.

The fiery exchange shocked onlookers in the courthouse.

Andrew Rule and Mark Buttler with the latest scallywag scuttlebutt.

Well, that really escalated

Lawyers like doing things to the letter. So, when the Victorian Bar sent out a memo about appropriate communication, it could have been a shade broader.

The memo reminded barristers of their “ethical obligations when engaging in debate with others, especially when using social media platforms, texts or emails.”

But it looks as if not all barristers “got the memo”, as the saying goes.

The pair who tangled face-to-face at a Ballarat court recently, for instance.

After some mighty harsh words, things suddenly turned physical.

Our source says punches were exchanged in a most unprofessional exchange that shocked members of the public, especially boxing aficionados.

Perhaps these punchy pair should instead just slug it out electronically in future. Either that, or they should get into the gym and learn to punch on properly.

Witnesses allege their footwork was lousy and neither of them would know a left hook from a crochet hook.

We hope they’re better at courtroom tactics than they are at fisticuffs.

Waterhouse: it was only a matter of time

When it comes to egg on face, some low-wattage advisers in the Prime Minister’s office should be feeling that the yolk’s on them.

We refer to whichever work-experience kid thought it was a good idea to invite a convicted racing figure like Robbie Waterhouse for a flight on the PM’s plane to attend the Queen’s funeral.

The PM was on a hiding to nothing, as they say in racing. Allowing Waterhouse on the official plane (merely as an appendage to the actual funeral guest, his wife Gai) was a risk because history shows he’s a frequent flyer in other ways — a repeat offender with racing authorities and the law.

In the latest of a long line of incidents, he is now accused of persuading a self-admitted problem gambler to bet — despite the gambler asking to have his account closed to choke the temptation to bet himself into financial ruin.

Bookmaker Robbie Waterhouse got a free flight on the PM. Picture: James Croucher

Who’d believe it? A drowning man is begging for help and you allegedly stamp on his fingers to stop him getting in the lifeboat.

It might be more believable for other members of his family.

Waterhouse is a third generation gambling man descended from smugglers, blackmarketers, sly groggers and illegal cockfighters all the way back to the convict era.

He is the son of one of the greatest cheats and rogues in racing history, “Big Bill” Waterhouse, who was close to bent NSW police and the whiffy premier, Neville Wran, and shared a tame bank manager with Abe “Mr Sin” Saffron, the crooked club owner, brothel king and blackmailer who put the king into King’s Cross.

Both Bill and Robbie Waterhouse were banned from racing world wide over their part in the scandalous Fine Cotton ring-in of 1984. It was a bad year for racing. Bill Waterhouse allegedly had knowledge of the violent death of the small-time trainer George Brown, who was killed and burnt only months before the Fine Cotton outrage after failing to go through with a brazen ring-in at Doomben ordered by Sydney race fixers.

Waterhouse’s long-suffering spouse Gai, who trained the odd horse for Her Majesty, hasn’t altogether lost her touch.

After the dismal showing of their $2.2m purchase Hoo Ya Mal in the Melbourne Cup, Gai redeemed herself when the enigmatic Alligator Blood lived up to his name with an all-the-way win in the Champions Mile at Flemington on Saturday. Which means Gai is talking up her chances of taking the ’Gator to the Royal Ascot meeting next year.

Whether it’s a good idea to take her husband is another thing. This time, of course, at least it won’t be on the PM's plane. Your bad, Albo.

Boat seized as poached fish hit Lygon St

Time was when out-of-luck jumps jockeys and other desperados used to poach abalone on the way home from Warrnambool races to sell to the punting restaurateur they called “Johnny Wrong”. Each rubbery shellfish was worth what they called “a pineapple”, $50.

Abalone poaching is a dangerous business well policed by the officers affectionately known as “fish pigs” but there is always a sneaky backdoor market for seafood hooked by “shamateurs” keen to poach for pay.

Three recreational anglers have just had their boat seized for allegedly taking more than the bag limit of King George whiting off St Leonards.

The trio were observed retrieving their boat after catching a heap of whiting, travelling to a nearby house, then relaunching their boat to continue fishing in the same spot.

It’s not as if they were just filling their freezer to feed their families, either. It was clearly part of an organised rort.

The trio had their boat seized for allegedly taking more than the bag limit of King George whiting off St Leonards. Picture: Glenn Ferguson

Victorian Fisheries Authority executive Ian Parks puts it this way:

“The three men returned to the boat ramp in the early evening and were intercepted by Fisheries Officers a short time later, back at the nearby house, where they presented a quantity of whiting for inspection.

“Enquiries saw more whiting produced from the house and confirmed as catch from that day. In total, the three men had allegedly taken 68 whiting over two trips on the same day, with one allegedly catching 38. The daily bag limit for King George whiting is 20 per person.

“All fish, fishing gear and the boat were seized on the spot.

“Recreational fishers are reminded that bag limits are personal, you can’t catch fish on behalf of others, and it is illegal to sell your catch.”

But the punchline to the “pinch” is that it led investigators to a restaurant in Lygon St, Carlyon, where they found 25kg of illegitimate King George whiting and 58kg of calamari.

The whiting and calamari were seized. As was an allegedly forged document created to cover the whiting.

Everyone concerned is in deep water, so to speak.

Anyone who sees anything fishy should call 13FISH.

They came up short

Betting rorts can come unstuck for the strangest and most galling reasons.

Some years ago, a scallywag crew orchestrated a nice fix at a country track in western Victoria which would have given them a lovely fill-up.

The signal to start the plunge was this: if the crew had got the right price and plunged, one of the gang would climb a certain tree on the other side of the track and wave a white towel.

This was the signal that the horse — a rolled gold certainty — should be ridden to win.

If the rider saw the towel, he was to throw in the towel.

The splurgers got their price and loaded up before wallowing in the anticipation of a big collect.

Alas, something else won and the man with the towel faced some stern questioning about the lost opportunity.

The answer was that he hadn’t done a dry run and, when the time came, he found he was too short to actually climb the designated tree.

This was further proof of the proposition that stuff-ups outnumber conspiracies. In this case, of course, the stuff-up stuffed up the conspiracy.

The fix was in (the transcripts)

While we’re on fixes that went bad, we’ve been told about some olden days match-fixing from the wonderful world of kickboxing.

A colourful member of that fraternity, known for his drug-trafficking ways, decided he needed a guarantee he was going to win a particular bout and got on the phone to his opponent to make sure it happened.

Unfortunately, his criminal activities meant his phone was tapped and investigators heard all about who was to lie down when.

Old mate was back behind bars on other matters before the rort could get off the ground.