Strewth: Waiting for Gonzo

Scott Morrison seem to go some way to confirming that the Liberal turmoil was created mostly by ‘Muppet’ like creatures.

Scott Morrison speaks to the media after being sworn in as Prime Minister.

For those convinced the Liberal Party’s recent turmoil was populated by amusing creatures not entirely in control of their own destinies, Scott Morrison went some way towards confirming things on Seven’s Sunrise yesterday. Quoth he: “The events of last, more than, two weeks resembled a Muppet show.”

Given the way the PM has preferred to wield the word “Muppet” in parliament, he most assuredly did not mean this In a Good Way. He followed it with a demonstration of that rarely seen double, the collective self-criticism followed by individual self-exoneration: “All Australians were very disappointed about that and they have every right to be. It was a confusing and bewildering series of events and not ones that I had any part in.” Phew! Innocence established, it was back to the show: “The curtain has come down on that Muppet show and a new curtain has absolutely lifted up …” For those who are fond of The Muppet Show (Fozzie Bear still cries “Wocka wocka!” in our heart) the good news is that, on the basis of the PM’s words, only the curtains are being changed. As for who the Muppets were, Sunrise host Samantha Armytage was careful not to leave that to chance.

PM Scott Morrison says the 'curtain has come down on the muppet show' and a new curtain has come up. #auspol pic.twitter.com/gz8vLWr4tn

— Sunrise (@sunriseon7) September 4, 2018

Armytage (timelessly): “How can you be sure that the curtain has come down on the Muppet show, Prime Minister? You say Muppets; how do you unite a bunch of Muppets now?”

ScoMo: “Well, I am doing exactly that in terms of my colleagues. We’re coming together.”

Somewhere there was thunder and rain, though it turned out to be Labor’s advertising unit high-fiving each other like maniacs and crying tears of joy.

Over on Nine’s Today show ScoMo also gave the Muppets a whirl, only for host Karl Stefanovic to try a different metaphor: “Your party is an absolute dog’s breakfast.” As the Muppets’ hecklers Statler and Waldorf might have described the spill: “Well, that was different. Lousy … but different!”

Eric the liberator

During yesterday’s investigations into au pair whisperer Peter Dutton, Liberal Eric Abetz said: “I think we should be celebrating the fact the (Immigration) Department can make quick decisions rather than keeping people in unnecessary detention.” Quite so, senator, quite so.

From cluckers to clacker #cluckbait https://t.co/QwzHnQibI8

— James Jeffrey (@James_Jeffrey) September 5, 2018

Sunny side up

Slightly eclipsing The New York Times’ efforts to credit climate change with John Millman’s victory over Roger Federer was a Daily Mail story about a Dutch chap who did himself a mischief by popping 15 eggs up his wazoo while high on drugs. Best-laid plans and all that. (Short version: hospital, incision, extraction, publication.) Let this bit of, ahem, cluckbait serve as a reminder that you can have all the fun in the world, but once the eggs appear it’s time to call it a night. Or as Lenny Kravitz nearly put it, it ain’t over ’til it’s ova.

Best laid plans... https://t.co/QwzHnQibI8

— James Jeffrey (@James_Jeffrey) September 4, 2018

The grapes of write

Let us return to the realm of more traditional ingestion. For those keen to be more deeply immersed in the words of wine god James Halliday, Hardie Grant is seeking a digital editor for the Halliday Wine Companion. Working our way down through the criteria, we came to one of the greatest challenges we’ve seen in a job ad. To wit: “In 200 words or less outline the best experience you’ve had with wine to date and why.” When we suggested aloud that we would struggle to keep to a mere 200 words, a colleague suggested we’d find it easier if we used only the words of which we were capable during that experience. So, fewer words than that Dutch guy had eggs, we’d guess.

The Betty deficit

Yesterday was five years since the death of journalist Elisabeth Wynhausen, described here over the years as “the B-52 of C-bombers” and “a carnival of salty decibels”. That was just part of the deal. Another time we wrote: “Swearing was only one of her many powers but it was one of the first that people tended to notice — a bit like seeing a peacock’s tail in all its iridescent, technicolour splendour before noticing there is, in fact, a bird underneath.” But as this anniversary slips gently into the past like all the others, we’ll leave you with the few words we ran in Strewth the day after that most striking of silences fell: “Long before Malcolm Tucker, we knew what it meant to be epically and zestily profane. This was thanks to Elisabeth Wynhausen, author, blogger, colleague and, wonderfully, friend. Loud and almost utterly incapable of a backward step or a dud sentence, Elisabeth could make the air sting and the page sing. And there was such heart; never have truculence and tenderness cohabited so successfully in one person. Elisabeth died yesterday but if you ever read her, toast her with something salty shouted to the heavens.” Go shout once more.

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