Bum rapper

BACK in the days Julia Gillard and Tony Abbott were on it, the Today show's Friday political slot was a hotbed of screwball comedy, sexual tension and, courtesy of co-host Karl Stefanovic, endearingly inept expressions of admiration.

BACK in the days Julia Gillard and Tony Abbott were on it, the Today show's Friday political slot was a hotbed of screwball comedy, sexual tension and, courtesy of co-host Karl Stefanovic, endearingly inept expressions of admiration.

It hasn't been the same since Gillard cruelly abandoned Abbott to pursue her interests in prime ministering, time travel, early alarm-clock setting, and kicking the Greens and the idle. Nevertheless, as Abbott's effort yesterday with co-host Lisa Wilkinson reminded us, there are still moments worth treasuring, by which we mean locking in a wooden chest and burying under a palm tree on a desert island:

LW: "All right, just a light one to finish off our Friday chat, Mr Abbott. Rapper Snoop Dogg is in town. Now, he was banned from entering the country back in 2007 after failing a character test because he had gun and drug charges in the US. Now he wants to become an Aussie citizen. Would you be happy for that to happen?"

TA: "Well look, the only dog I'm familiar with is a dog called Maisie and I don't know that Maisie needs to become an Aussie citizen. Look, I think that everyone who becomes an Australian citizen, Lisa, has to pass a character test and if the guy has pretty serious character question marks, well no, I don't think he passes."

As she said, "just a light one".

Democracy wins

BETWEEN jobs? Worried the PM will ping you for spending too long on your freckle and not embracing the dignity of work? Why not consider a move into the Tasmanian Legislative Council? The pay's not awful, you get a touch of job security (well, a six-year term) and it's a piece of piss to get in. Or so it seems, if this press release from the Tasmanian Electoral Commission is an indication: "As there is only one candidate for the division of Murchison, the Tasmanian Electoral Commission has determined . . . that an early announcement of the name of the candidate may be made. The . . . only candidate for the division of Murchison is Ruth Jane Forrest." Ruth Forrest, we salute you.

Call baiting

ONCE upon a time, it was said that procrastination was the thief of time; a bit rough on procrastination, but catchy nonetheless. Then Oscar Wilde updated it to the altogether more appealing "punctuality is the thief of time". Now, many years later, Strewth would like to shyly suggest a new and improved version: the Telstra billings department is the thief of time. What do you think? Admittedly, it doesn't roll off the tongue with the same ease, but it does have a greater ring of truth about it. Coincidentally, it also involves a greater number of rings.

Ferret fancier

NEVER let it be said opposition environment spokesman Greg Hunt is bereft of surprises. Here he is in action in the current issue of The Spectator Australia, for which he has penned the Diary. "It's Red Hill Show Day on Melbourne's Mornington Peninsula. And that means ferrets." So far, so good; we're already warming to the way the Hunt mind works. "So as we bundle Poppy, age 6, and Jamie, 21 months, into the car to head from the coast up to the showgrounds, Poppy asks if she can race one of the ferrets again this year. Her slightly disconcerting interest in small animals with exceptionally sharp teeth . . . comes from the fact that I've become patron of the Fastest Ferret Race at the show each year. No one will tell me why." Your guesses to the address below.

Not getting it

WE were alarmed to learn, courtesy of Life's a Pitch on artsjournal.com, that the promotional material for the Broadway production of the Priscilla, Queen of the Desert musical features three women in Priscilla costumes. That's right, women. The only drag queen is a tiny silhouette in the distance. Like the time King Kong failed to make it to the sharp bit at the top of the Empire State Building (this was the only New York-based analogy that popped into our head), this does rather miss the point. Lord knows what the audiences enticed by such posters will make of the gags about hiding the cabanossi.

Salvo from the stalls

FINNISH composer Jean Sibelius once said, "Pay no attention to what critics say. No statue has ever been put up to a critic." It's a sentiment that doesn't seem to have ruffled anyone at Crikey, where they're perfecting the art of the brutal review. When deputy editor Jason Whittaker recently took David Williamson to task for Don Parties On, the great man had a conniption that lasted weeks. But it somehow seemed altogether rougher and more unexpected this week when Matt Smith assessed Catherine Deveny's revived show, God is Bullshit:"Scattered through the clam fest of an audience were the odd Devenist who laughed frequently and loudly, and I made note of them so I knew who I might have to later pick out in a police line-up." We know, we know. When they came for the Devenists, I did not speak up, for I was not a Devenist . . . It's a slippery slope.

James Jeffrey