Speak queasy

AFTER weeks adrift in the new-paradigm-interregnum thingy, the universe resumed its proper shape yesterday at precisely the moment Harry Jenkins eased himself on to the Speaker's throne.

But even as firmly planted upon the green leather as he was, Jenkins wasn't safe from the ritual derriere-kissing that followed, not least Tony Abbott's almost miraculously shameless and/or tongue-in-cheek effort that began: "I have to say, Mr Speaker, that I never wavered in my faith that you were the best person for the job that you hold. There were weeks when others doubted, there were weeks when you must have doubted yourself, what was going to emerge from this parliament, but I was with you every step of the way. Mr Speaker, I was there. I was your true friend and I was the true friend of a genuinely independent speakership in this parliament." Christopher Pyne clearly understood there'd be no outgunning his leader, so he took a different tack: "It's fair to say we've had something of a love-hate relationship," he began, prompting Labor's Daryl Melham to note sonorously, "He loves to hate you." Undeterred, Pyne pressed on, declaring in a Jane Austen-esque kaleidoscope of ways how much he wanted to feel Harry's love. This from a bloke who said he'd found the group hug with Anthony Albanese and the independents the other week "confronting".

A blue with Virgin

SOMEONE who wasn't in Canberra yesterday, despite the best efforts of Virgin Blue to keep her there, was our colleague Milanda Rout. Within minutes of her arrival in Melbourne yesterday, a respectable 26 hours late (Rout had pooh-poohed our suggestion of rollerblading home rather than loitering in Canberra airport; if only she'd heeded our advice), she received an email from Virgin headed: "Help us improve our service to you". We hope Virgin's suggestion box is a robust one.

Better briefed

LAUGH of the day came courtesy of Rob Oakeshott's line, "I promise to be brief." And so he was, concluding in what felt like barely 2 per cent of the time it took him to give what we've come to think of, simply, as the Speech. The applause that followed seemed equal parts joy and crazed, unbelieving relief, a bit like passengers who unexpectedly step from a plane crash unharmed. And while we're here, we award the special Tome Lord prize to Tony Burke for lugging in a Bible even bigger than Dick Adams's beard. Bought by his great-grandfather Michael Burke in 1880, it's bound in leather as dark as the Black Rod and decorated with a cross of such heft it could have comfortably graced one of Christopher Columbus's spinnakers. Burke characterises it as "a seriously heavy book".

Battle of Jericho

OUR colleague James Massola's unmasking of blogger Grog's Gamut as Greg Jericho has prompted a storm on Twitter (a twitstorm?) that shows little sign of abating. Some are in favour and, we get the feeling (because our senses are so acute), some are not. (Then there's Andrew Bolt who, on learning a certain newspaper you may be reading at this very minute quoted his fake Twitter doppelganger as the real thing, suggested to Strewth that those responsible "keep up their irony tablets".) But we gather one person focused on the upside is Communications Minister Stephen Conroy, who's been gleefully spreading the word in parliament that he's been dislodged at last as the most hated man on the internet.

Message blanks

HOW to mix your messages, an easy, two-step tutorial, brought to you by the Queensland government. Step 1: At 10.18am, have Premier Anna Bligh and Tourism Minister Peter Lawlor release a statement launching a new tourism campaign, resplendent with bronzed bodies running along the sand and plunging into the water. Step 2: At 1.24pm, release another statement warning: "We have the highest rates of death from skin cancer and the second highest from heart disease and stroke in the nation", and "Many illnesses can be prevented by making lifestyle changes, like eating better, exercising more, drinking less alcohol, quitting smoking and avoiding unprotected sun exposure." See? At least, it worked a treat yesterday.

If the coat fits

THE most monumentally redundant line of the week, possibly the month, maybe even, at a pinch, the decade, was brought into the world by the ABC yesterday: "Wearing a suit, Paul Keating has faced Downing Centre Local Court . . ." Keating in a suit? You don't say. One may just as well begin a sentence with, "Wearing black, Darth Vader . . .", or "Wearing soft, moist, porous green skin, the tree frog . . .", or, "Wearing her charisma about her person like a portable void, Penny Wong . . ." [We get the picture -- Ed.] This is Paul Keating, the sort of man who would probably go bodysurfing in full Zegna, let alone turning up to be humble in the dock before the magistrate. Still, it was lovely to hear PJK number himself among "the ordinary members of the community". Put a lovely glow on the rest of our afternoon, it did.