Strewth: put a patch on it

It’s a small regret, but a corner of our heart is filled with sorrow that Ann Sudmalis didn’t wear her pirate outfit.

To err is human but to arrrrr is divine ... Liberal MP Ann Sudmalis, right, in 2015. Picture: Facebook

It’s a small regret in the scheme of things, but a corner of our heart is filled with sorrow that outgoing Liberal MP Ann Sudmalis didn’t wear her pirate outfit (seen here at a fancy dress do in 2015) when she gave her much-discussed speech in parliament the other night. This oration included a zesty bucketing of local NSW state Liberal MP Gareth Ward. For example: “This is not the first time that Gareth has flexed his vengeance on strong Liberal women. He doesn’t just get even, he annihilates anyone who opposes him.” Ward’s response was in part: “This is an outrageous use of parliamentary privilege.” But it’s not the first time he’s had something tipped on him. For example, in April 2006 when he was but a humble councillor on Shoalhaven City Council, he had tomato sauce deposited all over his person by a fellow councillor. As the local South Coast Register reported at the time, it involved Ward taking issue with an email to a constituent from councillor John Willmott. Apart from Willmott wielding phrases such as “little twerp”, the story includes lovingly understated sentences that escalate the tension before the pay-off. Exhibit A: “Cr Ward retaliated, saying Cr Willmott’s behaviour towards fellow councillors had reached a new low, and then proceeded to give Cr Willmott a lesson in spelling.” Exhibit B: “Cr Ward then offered Cr Willmott advice on the correct use of capital letters.” It came to a head in the mayor’s office, where Willmott hurled a bowl of tomato sauce at Ward. And the result? “Cr Ward said after the incident that he looked like a St George supporter, with traces of tomato sauce in his white hair.”

School of hard knocks

As the war over the Libs’ gender imbalance grows, we present this Strewth item from the dawn of the Abbott government in September 2013: “ ‘I’m obviously disappointed that there aren’t more women in cabinet,’ Tony Abbott said. As laments go, it was a game one, delivered with the air of a man who’d opened a package dropped in his pigeonhole and was amazed to discover roughly the same gender ratio as Smurf Village. Or, just as strikingly, as Paul Keating’s first cabinet, where Ros Kelly was left to fly the flag for the ladies. But about-to-be-minted PM Abbott did at least have arresting imagery to go with it. ‘There are strong and capable women knocking on the door of cabinet,’ he told journalists. ‘There are strong and capable women knocking on the door of the ministry.’ Which, to Strewth’s ears, left the image of a bunch of blokes (and Julie Bishop) sitting around a table in a mansion on a stormy night, the odd muffled thump sounding amid the rest of the storm’s commotion. Someone is finally moved to ask, ‘Did you hear something?’ ” (These days, of course, we would shift from Smurf Village to the Muppets.)

End of the coldest war

It was only April last year when Scott Morrison had the cheek to speak to the ABC’s Jon Faine after fobbing off 2GB’s Ray Hadley with claims of travel-induced unavailability. When this act of betrayal was discovered, Hadley delivered the end with a bang, not a whimper: “The love affair, or the bromance that has been written about, is over. He’s lied to me, or his staff have lied.” Furthermore, Hadley asserted (more in anger than sorrow) that ScoMo was boring. But yesterday you could hear the angels singing.

Hadley: “He did a fantastic job as immigration minister and one of the architects of border protection. He’s now the boss, numero uno, and he’s on the line. Prime Minister, good morning.

ScoMo: “G’day, Ray, nice to be talking.”

Hadley: “It’s been a while.”

ScoMo: “It’s been a while, mate.”

Eventually they discussed “fair dinkum power”, which only got us thinking about when Barnaby Joyce recited Kim Cockerell’s Fair Dinkum Love: “Fair dinkum love isn’t about stiff posture and fancy clothes / It’s about wrestling on the couch in your tracksuit.” Well, ideally.

Nearer my God to thee

Reader Mike Bartlett writes: “Travelling down route 16 between Prince Rupert in Canada and Bellingham in Washington state yesterday, I passed a big sign on the side of the road which read: ‘You can’t talk to God on the mobile.’ I was still thinking about it when I came across another sign about a mile-and-a-half further on. It said. ‘If you want to meet him text while driving.’ ”

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