Jarring moment

AS the nation's resolve weakens and hordes of women mass at the gates of the Australian Defence Force Academy, gagging for combat, it's comforting to know there are less faddish souls manning the barricades.

AS the nation's resolve weakens and hordes of women mass at the gates of the Australian Defence Force Academy, gagging for combat, it's comforting to know there are less faddish souls manning the barricades.

There's Neil James, spokesman for the Australia Defence Association (which foolishly we used to assume was Neil James): "The nature of war doesn't change just because some feminists kick up a fuss. Simple common sense tells you that if you put women in some jobs where you directly fight men, enemy men, one-on-one in a physical confrontation for a continuous period, then we are likely to suffer more female casualties than male casualties. The other thing the feminists never justify in their arguments is would they be prepared to have women suffer disproportionate casualties compared to men just to satisfy their whims." Then there's former SAS commander turned Australian Christian Lobby managing director Jim Wallace, who expressed his doubts to ABC radio in a memorable nutshell: "I'm sitting here at breakfast, my wife just handed me a jar that she couldn't open and I opened it. You know, I rest my case." Perhaps it was only a jar shortage in World War II that allowed whimsical feminist Josef Stalin to send hundred of thousands of women into combat as pilots, tank crew, machine-gunners and snipers, in which capacities they proceeded to slaughter a lot of Germans. Ukrainian sniper Lyudmila Pavlichenko alone was credited with 309 kills; she might have dispatched more of her country's Teutonic visitors if only she'd been able to get the damn lids off the jars she'd popped her spare bullets in. We won't start on the Viet Cong; there's no fun there.

Below the line

WITH her latest bid to reinsert herself into the rich tapestry of our nation's democracy thwarted at the doors to the NSW upper house, Pauline Hanson is getting perilously close to becoming the Eric the Eel of Australian politics. We've never approved of that chardy swilling assumption that a vote for Hanson is tantamount to a declaration of dim-bulbery, so we were disappointed to hear Hanson herself allude to the possibility some of her supporters may be a little challenged: "I agree that I lost a lot of votes due to informal votes when people just put a tick beside my name below the line."

Snail mail

THE first sign there was anything amiss with the prime ministerial email outbox yesterday came at 11.12am, with a media alert requesting interested journalists to assemble in federal Parliament House's theatrette at 11am; this would have necessitated a small amount of time travel, but 12 minutes is surely not entirely beyond the capabilities of a resourceful press gallerist. The call for an 11am assembly was repeated almost a half-hour later; this would have necessitated more serious effort, possibly access to a wormhole of some nature. A plaintive message finally emerged from Treasurer Wayne Swan's lair at 12.32pm: "The Prime Minister's office is currently experiencing difficulties with sending and receiving email."

Head hunt

ADVENTURES in walloper language, courtesy of the South Australian Police media unit: "There is a new media release published on the SAPOL media website. Title: Double fatality - talking head.The media attending the double fatality on the Dukes Highway are advised a talking head will be arranged with Major Crash Investigators at the scene after they have arrived. No time for the talking head has been set at the moment."

Mouse in the House

THERE is, from time to time, talk of rats in the political ranks and the need to hunt them down. Our esteemed colleagues in this august organ's federal Parliament House office got part way there yesterday when they spotted a mouse (neither metaphorical nor electronic) scurrying about and making itself at home. Ever ready to help, we did offer the services of one of the charming but perpetually peckish pythons in the Strewth collection, but were beaten to the punch by our colleague Matthew Franklin, who is threatening to deploy the feline member of his family, a fine beast that, incidentally, answers to the name Fidel Catro.

Fluid policy

WE really hope this item doesn't result in the thunderous arrival of the fun police, but there's a moment of unexpected loveliness in the otherwise deeply sober document, Northern Territory Guidelines and Field Methodology for Vegetation Survey and Mapping. It lurks in appendix 19, which is the "NT Site Procedure and Equipment List". Direction No 1 on the list is: "Finish stubby and get out of vehicle." The list then continues through a great many carefully thought out points (for example, "Record basal information by basal sweep from centre of quadrant"), before turning up the excitement with the penultimate point ("Walk around the outside of the site to make sure all dangerous feral animals have been eradicated"), then concluding in a manner that is both calming and pleasingly symmetrical: "Open stubby and drive to next site."

James Jeffrey