Backward move

IT may be dead, buried and cremated (if we may borrow an Abbottism), but the ghost of "moving forwards" so haunts the ALP it is taking radical action to undo the damage.

IT may be dead, buried and cremated (if we may borrow an Abbottism), but the ghost of "moving forwards" so haunts the ALP it is taking radical action to undo the damage.

Backbencher Amanda Rishworth is the first to attempt what appears to be a scientifically courageous to move backwards through time, inviting her constituents in the South Australian seat of Kingston (including Strewth reader James Jarred) to a "street corner meeting" at "11am-10.45am".

Bush goldfish shock

STREWTH probably wasn't alone in its disappointment last May when Laura Bush's memoir went out into the world with only a sliver of a mention of John Howard. Surely it was only by oversight that our Man of Steel was so cruelly overlooked. As we noted bravely, "Perhaps the really rollicking Howard yarns are being saved for Dubya's forthcoming tome." Well, the tome has come and, it seems, well, there's not a whole lot more. Perhaps the really rollicking Howard yarns are being saved for Dubya's sequel. In the meantime, we'll have to be content with Bush's rollicking yarns about himself. Here's a taste, more of which you can read in tomorrow's Inquirer section: "As I got older, I came to see that my parents' love was unconditional. I know because I tested it. I had two car wrecks when I was 14, the legal driving age back then. My parents still loved me. I borrowed Dad's car, carelessly charged in reverse, and tore the door off. I poured vodka in the fishbowl and killed my little sister Doro's goldfish. At times I was surly, demanding, and brash. Eventually their patient love affected me." Which rather knocks George Washington's cherry tree-lopping confession into a small, cocked hat.

Alternative reality

IT seems a tad rough when one considers how much of a run George W. Bush gets in John Howard's book. Speaking of which, a copy of Lazarus Rising can be yours from Bookdepository. com for a mere $7.02 (free shipping!). Strewth was beside itself with excitement, but as we reached for our credit card, we discovered this was a different Lazarus Rising, part of a martial-flavoured sci-fi series called Starfist. Here's a taste from the synopsis: "On planet Kingdom . . . the old government of squabbling . . . leaders has been replaced by a ruthless new regime. All power rests with Dominic de Tomas, a depraved despot who will stoop to any means to achieve his vile ends. . . . In a cave in some forgotten Kingdom backwater, several humans slowly regain consciousness. Their minds have been probed repeatedly - by whom and for what reason they cannot say, for they've been stripped of all memories of themselves and their past lives. In time wounds will heal, but who knows if they will ever fully recover." Come to think of it, that sounds more like Peter Costello's memoir.

They never sleep

JUST because the Prime Minister's away doesn't mean the tough issues are being ignored in Canberra. Take, for example, this missive from the tireless Department of Parliamentary Services yesterday: "Due to the scheduled emergency evacuation drill on Tuesday morning, November 16, 2010, the Health and Recreation Centre will reschedule its yoga class to Thursday, November 18, 7.30-8.30am." We're pretty sure this mainly affects Bill Heffernan.

Long memories

FOR 2 1/2 glorious, true believing hours yesterday, it was 1975 all over again. Sydney retaurant Machiavelli - a Labor enclave since Gough was a boy - was a fitting venue for 130 party luminaries and supporters to celebrate the 35th anniversary of the Dismissal. E. G. Whitlam was unable to make it, as were many of his old colleagues who have since departed to that great factional get-together in the sky. But Gough was most ably represented by his wife, Margaret, who was guest of honour, and his son, Nick. Neville Wran was there, while other old warhorses Bob Hawke and Paul Keating sent their apologies. Paul Kelly (the singer, not the newspaperman) crooned From Little Things, Big Things Grow, while Little Pattie brought the house down with a rousing version of It's Time.

Looking ahead

IN news from our special Better Never Than This Comically Late department, the NSW government has introduced time limits on answers from ministers during question time. OK, they've missed roughly 800 question times over 15 years, but it should make for a welcome change during the half-dozen question times the Labor regime has left. "Although the NSW Parliament has best practice procedures - including an independent Speaker, acknowledgment of country, family-friendly hours - this change will further modernise the rules of the question time," Premier Kristina Keneally says. And presumably make things easier for Labor when, barring an extraordinary occurrence (such as every nitrogen molecule in Earth's atmosphere spontaneously turning into crack cocaine, or some such), they move to the opposition benches early next year*. (*Keneally did not actually spell this out.)