Sh, can't hear you

WHETHER it's just jet lag or a more quotidian form of delirium afflicting us, we'll never know, but the other night we had the most extraordinary dream in which the following happened: Julia Gillard had mastered the pronunciation of "negotiate".

WHETHER it's just jet lag or a more quotidian form of delirium afflicting us, we'll never know, but the other night we had the most extraordinary dream in which the following happened: Julia Gillard had mastered the pronunciation of "negotiate".

We woke yesterday morning feeling wonderfully buoyed and headed off to the Strewth-ly pleasure dome with a spring in our step and a song in our heart. It lasted precisely until lunchtime, when we turned on the television to watch our leader in full punishing flight. Other words - important words - were said, but they were aurally blurred away by "negosiate", which Gillard repeated as remorselessly as a conference of Daleks. In one particularly brutal volley, "negosiate" (or variants thereof) was wielded three times in less than 30 seconds, then, after a brief, soothing lull, for a fourth time; it was like being poked in the eyes by each individual prong on a demon's trident, then whacked in the face with the handle for good measure. Is it too much to put the "sh" in the word, PM? Or does it trouble you to say the word in a way that makes it sound like it has "gauche" nestling treacherously in its bosom? Or should we all just surrender to this ficsion and alter our dicsion? [Perhaps time for some camomile? - Ed.]

Love is the rug

OF course, negosiate partly owes its success to the power of cruel repetition, a la water torture and Midsomer Murders. But as demonstrated in the NSW city of Wollongong yesterday by Tony Abbott, no stranger to cruelty by great big repetitions himself, it is still entirely possible to inflict mental bruising while remaining inventive. When one of his hosts on radio station i98 admitted that the only question they really wanted answered was "Were you thinking of having a chest wax any time soon?", the Iron Monk replied thus: "What, to get rid of my love rug?" During the gruelling 10 or minutes that followed, we found the only way to ease our mental anguish was to imagine the same words emanating from the mouth of Malcolm Turnbull; it helped a bit.

Polled over

MEANWHILE, Love Rug's deputy, Julie Bishop, has been busy on her website trying to gauge the strength of the people's revolt against the carbon tax (or monster tax, as her leader so snappily rebadged it yesterday). She's done this via the ever popular means of an internet poll. After all, internet polls can be good; who can forget that ripper of a poll on this august organ's website last month in which a dazzling 99.3 per cent of respondents agreed that yes, Bishop should keep her gig as deputy opposition leader? It was a result happily reminiscent of a village election in communist Romania. Alas, by late yesterday afternoon on juliebishop.com.au, 68.7 per cent of respondents had indicated they "strongly support" the monster tax and a slender 22.7 per cent clicked on "strongly oppose". Still, no need to lose heart when there's a disclaimer of this calibre perched underneath: "Please note: This poll is not a scientific poll and is used for informal feedback purposes."

The price of flame

ONCE in a while we get a little jealous of other people's offices. Sometimes it's little more than a dose of the carpet tiles looking greener on the other side But at other times, such as when we read an email such as this one distributed to the toilers in Australian Consolidated Press's Sydney headquarters, we feel justified in our envy; after all, it makes it sound as if the ACP crew work in a day spa: "Important notice - candles and oil burners: Building Management and owners have recently highlighted high-risk activities occurring in the Park St ACP tenancy . . . The burning of candles will no longer be tolerated - this is against our building owner's policy and as such our lease conditions. Warning letters will be issued to any person breaching this requirement." There's some speculation that it was Park Street - the reality TV show filmed in the office - that caused this small kerfuffle, but we're not sure how, given Park Street has been almost entirely safe from prying eyes.

The price of blame

AS we bid a sad farewell to ALP national secretary Karl Bitar, we believe he took the words out of a great many mouths yesterday with this line in the official announcement of his resignation: "I leave this job with the absolute belief that I owe the party far more than it could ever owe me." (Incidentally, this Strewth item is only marginally shorter than Julia Gillard's official cheerio-to-Bitar press release.)

Sunken saucers

WITH all the horrors going on elsewhere in the world, we owe The Northern Territory News our gratitude for reporting on one somewhat more emotionally manageable catastrophe: the cancellation of the Territory's first UFO conference. It had been scheduled to take place at a caravan park south of Tennant Creek, but torrential rains have submerged the grounds. As The NT News put it yesterday, "One Territorian said the cancellation was a 'tragedy'. 'Every eccentric in Australia was heading for Wycliffe Well; it would have been such a laugh.' "

James Jeffrey