Hear hear: road rules lost on NSW Libs’ deputy; Kestelman United in grief, even if it netted him $6m

Natalie Ward was roads minister under the Perottet government. Picture: John Appleyard

Most drivers already know the rules around mobile phone usage and what’s allowed when they’re sitting behind the wheel, but for anyone who’s forgotten we’ve compiled a short primer to refresh the memory.

Practically everyone is aware that phone calls are fine, as long as the device is hands-free or connected to Bluetooth. Playing music is fine, as long as it’s not Nickelback or The Eagles. And podcasts are fine, so long as it’s not the All-In or Huberman Lab. Check the legislation if you don’t believe us.

The list of what’s not allowed is far more extensive, at least in NSW. Texting is out. Resting the phone on your leg is out. So is swiping on Tinder, posting on LinkedIn and refreshing your CommSec portfolio for the hundredth time while sitting in traffic.

As is using Microsoft Teams or video calls of any kind, which are absolutely not allowed, but tell that to Natalie Ward, the NSW Liberal Party’s deputy leader and a former roads minister in the Perrottet government. She was caught FaceTiming on Teams while driving through western Sydney last year.

Natalie Ward somewhat distracted.

The cheek. Ward, of all people, should know the rules, although she confirmed on Monday that she doesn’t and effectively admitted to the offence when we contacted her for ­comment.

Chauffeur-driven for way too long, Ward has a habit of being lost on the road rules. She once told Ben Fordham on his radio show in 2023, during her time as roads minister, that drivers had just 10 demerit points available on their licences, which was incorrect and sort of startling in its ignorance (so much so that it generated headlines). The correct answer was 13 points, as anyone who’s ever sweated on the cliff edge of losing their licence would know. But that’s how out of touch the minister was with the experience of ordinary ­motorists.

Ward is now the opposition spokeswoman for roads courtesy of the Liberal’s loss of government at the March 2023 state election, and it was in this role that she breached the rules with her mobile phone in May – an offence worth five demerit points.

“Someone taking a photo of me nine months ago without my consent and sitting on it until now to use as a political hit is a fairly creepy thing to do,” she told us. True as that may be, Ward knows that politics is all about the long game; and she, too, is a dead shot at carrying out a political assassination.

Besides, the screengrabbed photo tells its own story. There’s Ward, looking extremely bored as she moves through a tunnel, seatbelt fastened, hands sensibly resting at the 10 and 2 positions, the camera clocking her from a cradle on the dash. Even in a cradle the rules are clear: video calls are verboten. She can thank the Berejiklian government for introducing that in 2019.

Inevitably there are quotes of Ward to be found online urging people not to be distracted by their phones while driving, because it could endanger lives. “Taking your eyes off the road for longer than two seconds doubles the risk of a crash,” she said as roads minister, in 2022, happy to endorse those rules while she was in charge.

Not that she was particularly contrite when we asked her about this apparent infringement. “As my device was in a phone holder, I misunderstood the hands-free exemption,” she said. Ignorance, however, ain’t much of a defence in the local court – nor with the very fine people at Revenue NSW, the ones who review the appeal ­requests. YB

Stake offloaded

Meanwhile, in a postscript to the war over ownership of the National Basketball League …

Larry Kestelman was forced to watch his beloved Melbourne United go down fighting against the Illawarra Hawks on Sunday, a nailbiter that ended with a score of 114-104, although technically it’s no longer Kestelman’s team – and he’s a little bit richer for it.

We’ve confirmed Kestelman – ranked 176 on the newspaper’s Richest 250 list with a net wealth of $929m – recently offloaded his remaining 15 per cent stake in United, securing himself about $6m.

NBL owner Larry Kestelman. Picture: Getty Images

The transaction ends his proprietorship of the team (even though he’s still named in the corporate documents, which haven’t been updated) and it should also put to bed the slur of perceived conflict with his ownership of the entire league itself.

No change to that arrangement for now, and that’s despite the publicly declared takeover ambitions of Hawks owner Jared Novelly, revealed here in this column last week. Novelly wants Kestelman outside and, much like his Hawks, he wants to reign supreme.

So it was just as fascinating seeing both men courtside on Sunday as their teams prepared to battle at WIN Stadium. They even greeted each other prior to the jump ball, shaking hands in spite of their offcourt beef. YB

The end is nigh

The failure of the clinical trial on Opthea’s eye disease drug hasn’t just blown a hole in the healthcare strategy of Phil King’s Regal Funds, it also looks likely to sound the death bell for Australia’s oldest listed biotechnology company. Opthea is currently in talks with its lender, an arm of the giant Carlyle investment group, over the repayment of $US120m that Carlyle lent the Aussie biotech company to run its clinical trials.

Their failure puts Opthea on the hook for up to $US680m in repayments. Hardly a surprise its directors have sought to use safe harbour provisions to protect themselves ahead of a potential insolvency.

No doubt there will be plenty of people lining up to pick over the wisdom of using debt funding to back a speculative investment – and the extraordinary terms of the deal with Carlyle that would see Opthea carry the debt on its books at a 23 per cent interest rate, and be required to pay back almost six times the amount it borrowed.

At least retail holders weren’t tapped for the equivalent amount before being wiped out alongside Regal, we suppose.

But if the worst happens it will be more than just shareholders mourning the loss of Opthea, given the company’s importance to the rest of the country’s biotech sector.

Long before privatising CSL was even a half-formed thought in Paul Keating’s mind, the company – originally known as Circadian Technologies – was the sole flag-bearer for Australian biotechnology on the local bourse. Floated by the late Leon Serry in 1985, for years Circadian effectively acted as a listed investment company for the rest of the biotech sector – back before LICs were really a thing, and certainly before they became a vehicle to milk management fees from clueless punters.

The company had its own research programs as well – longstanding followers might remember that Circadian’s first effort was an attempt to commercialise melatonin for jet lag – now a staple for the sales of plenty of vitamin companies.

But Serry and Circadian also backed a swath of Australian biotech start-ups over the company’s history, with mixed success. Its biggest win was the $US140m sale of Alan Finkel’s Axon Instruments in 2004.

It wasn’t until 2008 that Circadian shifted strategy to develop its own drugs, and the company gave up its original name a decade ago.

And now, 40 years later, the end is nigh … NE