Know thy thin laugh

STREWTH predicted all that spare time on Malcolm Turnbull's hands would eat into the time that Tony Abbott had set aside for his fitness regime.

IT'S been barely days since Strewth predicted all that spare time on Malcolm Turnbull's hands would eat into the time that Tony Abbott had set aside for his fitness regime.

There was a brief flicker of doubt on Friday when Mal promised he'd be a good boy and Abbott -- seated next to a bemused Dalai Lama -- said he thought of the man he'd just rolled as "honourable". Then yesterday happened. We pictured Mal -- self-confessed "humble backbencher" -- huddled over his computer, doing his best Russell Crowe impersonation as he sat, mouse in hand, poised to post his blog entry: "At my signal, unleash hell." Amusingly, five turbulent hours after Mal first tweeted that he had a new blog post featuring "some straight talking on climate", he felt the need to tweet it again, on the off chance anyone had missed the initial blast. Not that Mal was the only one using repetition to make his point yesterday. At a press conference in Sydney, Abbott tried to resist journalists' baiting by reminding us five times in a sliver over three minutes that "my argument is with Kevin Rudd". We're guessing we'll have to get used to that thin laugh Abbott resorts to when he pretends to be rising above it all in jolly fashion.

Compo Aussie, compo

JAMES Hardie Industries has not been without its money issues, particularly when it came to paying former employees whose lungs were devoured by asbestosis, so it's good to hear things are looking up for the company. Or at least according to our agent in the field, who noted that Hardie was able to occupy a corporate box at the cricket Test in Adelaide the other day. Our agent was all but foaming at the mouth, but we say good for the Hardie folk. After all, what's life without its little compensations?

Call it a transition period

AS mentioned in Strewth, Nathan Rees managed to linger on Twitter as NSW premier for a few days after his ignominious shafting, but this has since been amended and his successor Kristina Keneally has moved into the slot, inheriting his followers in the process. By yesterday evening, though, she'd tweeted a grand total of zero times. Depending on your mindset, this could be cause for mild concern or wild jubilation. But to one group of people, at least, Rees is still the man. IMG Fashion was yesterday sending out invitations to Australian Fashion Laureate 2009: "The Honourable Nathan Rees MP, Premier of NSW, requests your company at a reception to announce the 2009 Australian Fashion Laureate." So much for fashion being fickle; that looks like hardcore loyalty to us.

Improve your performance!

THINGS are on the move for former Today Tonight host Naomi Robson. According to her new publicists, Robson's company Little Frog Productions "conducts media training for corporate executives wanting to improve their on-camera performance". Of all of Robson's on-camera performances, the one that occupies the warmest cockle of Strewth's heart is the time just after Steve Irwin's death, when she turned up at Australia Zoo clad in khaki with a lizard on her shoulder. As she said at the time, "I unequivocally apologise to anyone who was offended because it was certainly not designed in any way to be insensitive." Happy memories.

Return to sender via black hole

FROM our Would Have Been Faster If They'd Stuck It in a Bottle and Lobbed It into the Sea Department comes news that loyalty program FlyBuys (infinitely more successful than its little known and probably apocryphal rival BuyFlies) received a special letter at its Glen Iris office in Melbourne yesterday. Stamped "return to sender", it was a FlyBuys points summary statement sent to a cardholder in Adelaide in 1995. The term snail mail doesn't apply here; by Strewth's calculations (non-binding), a snail moving at an average 0.048km/h could have slid from Melbourne to Adelaide and back four times in that period.

Blue healer gives CPR . . . sort of

STREWTH was never going to be able to resist a story in this week's Woman's Day headlined, "My dog gave me CPR". In it, we hear from Queenslander Jim Touzeau, who collapsed with a stopped heart, shattering a piece of glass on the way down for good measure. As he lay bleeding, he was discovered by his blue heeler, Teka: "I don't know how many minutes I was lying there, but I awoke to find Teka on my stomach, her front paws repeatedly pumping my chest. She began licking my face and barking loudly . . . I don't know if Teka knew anything about CPR, but whatever she did, it worked."

What is the answer?

THE big question of the week is not who hasn't slept with Tiger Woods (NASA is preparing to dispatch a space probe to find the answer to that one) but what to call the next decade, given that "the noughties" has been only a partial success. And, yes, we know the new decade doesn't really start until January 1, 2011, but it's better to be prepared. Your suggestions to the address below.

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