How precious are we? Our once endearing trademark of “taking the mickey” and our propensity to laugh at ourselves has been hijacked and bleached to suit the bland, spiritless pests whose only industry is selective finger pointing. The Keating days of thought control, when dissidents were bullied and a compliant PC brigade apportioned scorn are returning like spores of mould on a rotting manifesto of evil.
Just weeks ago footballer Adam Goodes wailed about racism, heard around the world when a 13-year-old girl called him an ape. An ad campaign against perceived racism in which Goodes is an actor appeared on TV just days later. The free publicity was worth millions. In another ad running "Say no to racism" Goodes says “…by the way, I’m indigenous—not that that matters.” Bollocks, it mattered enough for him to make it matter.
More recently, a bolt from the heavens. The Deity of Affectation granted the PM a miracle; Howard Sattler is sacked for his boorish question to her about the First Bloke’s sexuality. Sattler asked the question to which millions would secretly like to know the answer. And now, the nation is left hanging. Is Tim a poof, how ponderous can a question be?