Deadline: Melbourne’s high-flyers finally learn how to run coke parties

Strict new rules on the consumption of the devil’s dandruff at a recent shindig suggests Melbourne’s high-flyers may have learnt from Nadia Bartel’s ill-fated party.

Mark Buttler and Andrew Rule with the latest scallywag scuttlebutt.

First rule of Coke Club … no pixels

Dimwitted celebrities and sportspeople may finally be learning how to manage their cocaine get-togethers.

Word has trickled out about strict new protocols governing coke consumption at a recent regular shindig involving various high flyers.

Those partaking were ordered to surrender their mobile phones or there would be no Colombian marching powder for them.

The edict was imposed so no one could capture the kind of footage which might later end up on social media and damage careers, reputations and bank balances.

This crew is from the red carpet set and one of their ilk hit a big hurdle some time ago when images found their way into the public domain.

That person joined a cavalcade of big names that have come unstuck in similar circumstances, bemusing sane people who tend not to be enthusiastic about using cameras while breaking the law.

To be fair, snorting the devil’s dandruff is hardly a hardcore crime.

A not-too-bright guest ensured Nadia Bartel’s get-together made headlines.

Let’s face it, so many accountants and dentists and lawyers do it that it’s about as tough as cheating at golf or parking in a disabled spot. Not so much living on the wild side as the mild side.

But why anyone would think it was a good idea to be filmed doing something illegal remains a mystery.

And why any “friend” would then put images on the internet is just as baffling.

The answer might be that smart-alecks are not smart — and that not every “friend” with a camera phone is actually a friend when it comes to white powder.

Ask Nadia Bartel and Shane Mumford and all the rest.

They should remember they are about as “invisible” as schoolkids in uniform smoking at the bus stop in the main street.

Which means the heavily tattooed football heroes who regularly visit the supplier to the stars should know that people clock them.

When you get that many possessions in a game, it’s odds-on that someone is going to notice you visiting The Man in, or near, his high-rise building.

They’re fast and tricky, this pair, but even the slipperiest players can get caught in possession.

Don’t you know who I am?

He’s one of our most well-known organised crime faces and accustomed to getting his own way.

So, when he rocked up at a CBD tech store late and wanted some attention out of hours, our man didn’t get the treatment the rest of us might have received.

Staff just couldn’t say no to the tattooed tough guy and threw open the doors.

Feel the rush

Gold is synonymous with Ballarat and still seems to play a role in the area’s latest get-rich-quick activity: methamphetamine trafficking.

Local cops found nuggets worth $17,000 among a huge stash of cash and other valuables when they raided a motel in the suburb of Golden Point last week.

The operation was part of a drug trafficking investigation in the city, where, some say, meth has become the new gold for a great many desperados and down and outs.

Clearly, someone is making a good earn.

More than $250,000 in cash and a heap of stolen jewellery was also confiscated with the nuggets.

A man has been charged with trafficking a large commercial quantity of methamphetamine, cocaine and cannabis and three counts of possessing drugs of dependence, dealing with proceeds of crime and committing indictable offences while on bail.

Wayne Strawhorn.

Where the nuggets came from or how they fit into the meth-dealing allegations is intriguing.

Those with memories not damaged by drug use might recall the enigmatic drug squad boss, Sergeant Wayne Strawhorn, who ended up copping a long, boring stay in Her Majesty’s guest quarters.

Some might say that Strawhorn had been in “the joke” for a long time — at least long enough to pay cash for a new slate roof for the big and valuable Victorian house he apparently owns near Caulfield racecourse, for a start.

Strawhorn loyalists who argue there were no obvious signs of ill-gotten gains might recall that Strawhorn, a lifelong self-improver, had a couple of interesting hobbies far removed from the usual flashy cars, boats and designer brands.

One hobby was studying up on collectable wines and artworks. The other was his dedication to the metal detector he used to go prospecting for gold in distant parts of the land where other prospectors regularly found nuggets.

The suggestion being, of course, that if he didn’t actually dig up a nugget or two himself, he could always buy plenty for cash from those who do it for a living. The perfect smother.

All of which might explain the police’s find in Golden Point.

Bargain bust

We outlined the delights of the St Albans footpath black market a while back.

There you can get all manner of stuff recently stolen from local super markets, including unrefrigerated meats jammed into some drug addict’s Everlast trackie daks before being displayed in the sun on warm concrete. Hmmm, can I pay on EFTPOS?

It seems there may be a shortage of toothpaste and socks at the sidewalk store for a while.

That’s because one apparent street “trader” was busted last week pushing a pram out of the Watergardens shopping complex, allegedly en route to the footpath sales territory.

A closer examination found her “baby” was actually 50 pairs of socks and 28 tubes of the finest Sensodyne toothpaste, valued at $1070.

Warm meat flogged from a supermarket for sale on a St Albans footpath. Picture: Victoria Police

A deadset Deadline dead ringer

We have another in our series of lookalikes with fictional crime connections.

This one is tough St Kilda skipper Jack Steele and the US actor RJ Mitte, who plays the son of big-time meth cook Walter White in Breaking Bad.

Critics might suggest that Steele and his teammates seem to have spent a fair chunk of this season producing a series of Playing Bad.

St Kilda captain Jack Steele. Picture: Getty Images

RJ Mitte of Breaking Bad fame. Picture: Sydney Opera House

Case is rock solid

The naming of police operations used to be a mysterious business known only to those involved.

Once upon a time, names chosen by cops themselves tended to be a bit too close to the mark, even a touch cocky. Operation Wing Clipping, for instance, was mounted against the Hells Angels in olden times.

Now, apparently, computers generate or pluck names randomly. That might explain why the current Australian Federal Police international drug trafficking operation (which has entangled socialite Anthony “Hot Mess” Hess) was named Rhyolite.

As all good geologists know, Rhyolite is an “extrusive igneous rock formed during eruptions of granitic magma”.

Fans of operation-naming trivia will also have noticed something in common among names of AFP anti-terror operations in the past 20 years.

The oddly named Operation Loonbeek of last year had its name taken from a castle in Belgium, and this continued something of a trend.

Because there are also European castles named Neath and Pendennis, both of which were used for landmark anti-terror investigations.