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Joe Aston defamation trial: Jatz crackers and the banalities of a self-identifying gossip

On day five of the nation’s most enthralling defamation case that photographs of Joe Aston’s feet were entered into evidence.

Journalist Joe Aston outside the Federal Court in Sydney on Tuesday. Picture: Jane Dempster
Journalist Joe Aston outside the Federal Court in Sydney on Tuesday. Picture: Jane Dempster

And so it came to pass on day five of the nation’s most enthralling defamation case that photographs of Joe Aston’s feet were entered into evidence.

“Not bare feet, I would hope?’’ said Aston, who is a Rear Window columnist at The Australian Fin­ancial Review.

But, alas, one of the photos handed up to judge Michael Lee in the Federal Court in Sydney was indeed that of a pale foot; others­ featured Aston’s feet shod in green sneakers, or blue suede.

Why did this happen?

Journalist Joe Aston (left) leaves the Federal Court with his lawyer. Picture: Jane Dempster
Journalist Joe Aston (left) leaves the Federal Court with his lawyer. Picture: Jane Dempster

Well, Aston, and his employer, Nine Newspapers, are being sued by venture capitalist Elaine Stead, formerly a director of the Blue Sky investment firm, over two articles and a tweet, in which Aston described­ her as a stupid cretin, who had acted like a “pyromaniac” with other people’s money.

He says this was his honestly held opinion; she says the public­ation has damaged her mental health, and her career.

Stead’s barrister, Sue Chrysanthou SC, began by asking whether Aston really believed that Stead, who has a PhD, is stupid, and if so how he came to that conclusion.

“Stupid is as stupid does,” he said. “Someone who repeatedly does stupid things is by definition stupid.”

He referred to what he described­ as the “banality” of Stead’s social media posts, and here Chrysanthou pounced, for it seemed that Aston had quite a few social media accounts of his own.

Twitter? Check.

Facebook? Check.

Instagram? Check.

And, yes, he’s also on LinkedIn.

And had he ever posted anything banal, Chrysanthou wanted to know? Photos of his food, for example­? “Certainly,” he replied.

Comments about how hung­over he’s feeling?

“Yes.”

A recipe for chocolate-covered Arnott’s Jatz crackers … wait, what?

At this point, Lee interjected, seeking more information.

Chrysanthou tried to explain that apparently you could combine Jatz crackers with chocolate, “and it’s delicious”.

“No, I did not say that,” Aston protested. “I suggested that was a crime against food.”

“That should be an agreed fact,” said the judge quietly, prompting Aston’s barrister, Sandy Dawson SC, to solemnly bow his head.

“As the great-grand-grandson of William Arnott, who founded the company,” Dawson said, “I agree with Mr Aston.”

 
 

But back to Aston’s podo­photo­philia.

‘You have (posted) rather a lot of photos of your feet … I’ll just show you,” said Chrysanthou. And so a parcel of images, now known as Exhibit 27, was tendered, becoming­ forevermore discover­able by anyone fossicking in the Federal Court’s archives for Stead v Aston.

“You agree there’s a lot?” Chrysanthou inquired.

“There do seem to be,” conceded Aston.

“What about the photos of you in quarantine?” (Aston has flown from his home in Los Angeles to testify in the case.) “That was a miserable experience that I wanted to immortalise,’’ he said.

“What about the photo of your dirty laundry? Literally, not figuratively? … and another of a foot massage?”

“That was … memorable,” he said.

This went on for quite a while, with Aston asked to comment upon a selfie in a mirrored lift, and other examples of what for all of us on social media surely adds up to a touch of amor sui.

What Chrysanthou was sugges­ting was, of course, that to “label a person cretinously stupid … because of their social media posts is ridiculous”.

Aston held his ground, saying his opinion of Stead — that she was stupid — was based on her performance as an investor of other people’s money, as well as the posts.

Justice Lee inquired: “Do you accept that’s a very offensive thing to say about someone?”

“Yes,” he said.

He pointed to Stead’s decision to back the failed bespoke company Shoes of Prey as an example of her stupid behaviour.

But, he was reminded, Stead was not alone, investing in Shoes of Prey. Everyone’s favourite green-hearted billionaire, Mike Cannon-Brookes, a founder of Atlassian, also put some money in.

“Is Mike Cannon-Brookes stupid­?” Chrysanthou wanted to know.

Aston said no.

How about the giant US-based department store, Nordstrom?

“Do you think they know more about the sale of women’s shoes than you do?” Chrysanthou said.

Aston hesitated.

“Do you think Nordstrom knew more about the sale of women’s shoes than you do?” Chrysanthou insisted.

Elaine Stead, left, and barrister Sue Chrysanthou leave the Federal Court on Tuesday. Picture: Jane Dempster
Elaine Stead, left, and barrister Sue Chrysanthou leave the Federal Court on Tuesday. Picture: Jane Dempster

You could tell he didn’t want to concede it, but in the end had no choice.

“I suspect they do, yes,” Aston said.

The trial has proved to be one of the most popular in recent memory, with more than 170 people­ joining Tuesday’s session on Microsoft Teams. (There are apparently some wags out there, since one joined using the name Gaping Moron and another as Brick Tamland, both of which were nods to Monday’s evidence.)

All were treated to a video of Aston, dressed in an open-necked shirt and what appeared to be his grandpa’s too-tight grey trousers, at a Melbourne Press Club event in 2018, hosted by the ABC’s Michael­ Rowland, and featuring the then-erstwhile Strewth columnist for The Australian, James Jeffrey.

“You said (in this video) you became a gossip columnist because­ you are vain, selfish and lazy?” Chrysanthou said.

“I did,” Aston amiably agreed.

He identified, at the time, as a gossip columnist. Did the ensign still apply?

“I don’t have an identity card that says I’m a gossip columnist … but I’m not going to be totally offended­ if that’s where you’re going,” he replied.

Aston explained that a gossip columnist’s job involved taking tips from often confidential sources; in the case of the Stead stories, all were anonymous men, but he didn’t think it was fair to describe them as “men, lurking in the shadow­, not willing to go on the record”.

Aston expressed some surprise that Stead “never rang me up and abused me” for the things he’d said.

“She didn’t ring you up and suck up to you like other people,” Chrysanthou said.

Aston agreed that Stead’s approach­ was also quite different to that of, say, Eddie McGuire, who had “shirt-fronted” him late in the afternoon one Derby Day, to complain about the fact that Aston always criticised him, without ever mentioning the fact that he had an Australia Day award.

Aston responded by putting McGuire in his column again.

Toward the end of his evidence, Aston was asked to reflect upon a blistering set of text messages, in which he and a confidential source talked about how Stead might be coping with being mocked in his column.

The source suggested that Stead might be “swallowing pinot gris tonight, wondering whether to kill herself”. The pair then discussed one of Stead’s social media posts, in which she’d mentioned her mother’s brain tumour.

Aston told the source: “Elaine’s scan would show that she doesn’t have a brain.”

“It was disgraceful, wasn’t it … what you said about the brain scan?” Chrysanthou said.

“There was colourful lang­uage, obviously,” Aston said, his tone regretful. “At the time, I thought it was amusing. Obviously … it doesn’t seem so humorous now.”

His barrister rose to object to further questioning on the matter, saying the text messages did not appear to relate to any issue in proceedings.

Chrysanthou begged to differ, with two chilling words of her own: “Aggravated damages.”

The trial continues.

Original URL: https://www.theaustralian.com.au/business/media/joe-aston-defamation-trial-jatz-crackers-and-the-banalities-of-a-selfidentifying-gossip/news-story/6c91bc4a44594d6d20a96ba02231f8be