FuckWalk – protests in poor taste

Protests are a funny one aren’t they? Lately I’ve been to a few that have stuck in my craw. On Saturday it was FuckWalk, a protest against Baillieu’s swear laws, but the protest was also used to promote a broader social agenda. I didn’t originally intend to go, but found myself at Bourke St mall and the protestors just marched up to me.

It was a pretty young crowd, with a a predominance of hippy left-wing fashions – dyed hair, dreadies, piercings, badges, berets, hoodies, sloganed T-shirts. Socialist Alliance and Resistance spoke at the rally and SA had a large banner right at the front – it seemed like they had organised it.

As I arrived, one of the speakers was yelling ‘Unfuck Victoria!’ and getting the crowd to repeat it after him.  They obliged. I stood on a bench to get a better view of the speakers.

‘You’d think they would have thought a bit harder about what they were going to say!’ a girl behind me commented.

I turned around. ‘Yeah, Unfuck Victoria?’

She laughed. ‘Sounds like they’re trying to give back its virginity or something!’ Then she offered me some of her popcorn.

‘Since when was all these Nazi views imposed on us as a country?’ asked the last speaker, a burly guy in a black shirt with an Aboriginal flag on it. ‘Fuck being a conformist – fight now!’ He compared our gathering to the Arab Spring. ‘All over the world, people are getting together and telling the government to get fucked! Well fuck you! We are not fucking prisoners!

Finally he invited people to come to a meeting at Melbourne Uni (the Economic and Social Outlook conference), where Abbott, Ferguson, Swan and other politicians would ‘talk about how they control you and the resources boom.’ ‘Come along and tell them to get FUCKED!’ he shouted in a sandpaper voice. It was quite brutal on my hangovered ears.

It’s one thing to rev people up, but this level of aggression doesn’t seem like the best tactic to get people involved.

I’m also not sure why the swear-law issue needed to be broader to encompass a whole socialist agenda, and the whole issue branded as Socialist Alternative. What’s so so socialist about freedom of speech? It reminded me of the Wikileaks protest, where there was a sea of red Socialist flags and a crackly loudspeaker which denounced neo-liberalism and the Northern Territory intervention. Some of my friends who rocked up to that protest in full solidarity with the cause, but left quickly because they felt the issue had been hijacked by the ultra-left.

The thing with Socialist Alliance is, whether or not you agree with all of their views, at least they’re out there and doing something about issues they care about. If people feel so strongly about Socialist Alliance dominating protests, they just need to organise other types of people to show up, and then the composition of the crowd would become more diverse.

 

Youtube of the protest

Gillard in three words

ABC news is running a Twitter survey where tweeps describe their feelings about Gillard in three words – #gillardin3

Unsurprisingly, comments are overwhelming negative, with tweeps referring to woodenness, populism, disappointment, and a sense of stasis. It’s depressing reading.

Basic messages:

1) She’s lost her way and

Not moving forward/Moving forward NOT/Australia Moved Nowhere/Stuck in Neutral/Stopped Moving Forward/Trying, but stumbling/We’re still lost/floundering pandering mess/meandering meaningless self-defeating

Yes! NO! Maybe?/ Halting, directionless, spineless

2) the disappointment is killing us and

Harrassed, disappointing/Awkward. Disappointing. Exaggerated/ Beware false prophets/Complete epic fail/fail fail fail/Turbulent, disallusioning, inconsistent/Boredom/Pretty damn uninspiring

3) it deflates the spirit.

Pretty damn uninspiring/Inspiration leader (bullshit)/Lowest common denominator/High hopes dashed

4) Opportunities were lost.

Many lost opportunities/A wasted opportunity/What a waste/Rather pissweak effort

5) She can’t get her ideas across.

Terrible mass communicator/Not selling ideas

6) She’s been unfairly treated

Convenient whipping girl/Casual sexism abounds/Up Against Murdoch/unfair media treatment

7) and some of us don’t like redhead women.

Bitch dog woof/Populist trash bag/Sack the ranga/redhead woman lady

8) We voted for Rudd.

Rudderless Ship Crashes/Doesn’t represent me/Toothless usurper puppet/I preferred Kevin

9) She reminds us of Howard.

Howard’s legacy lives/Just like Howard

10) She’s doomed

Deer in Headlights/Waiting for Execution/Shorten’s knife poised/Going going gone/Time’s Almost Up/Surely A Goner

11) and the alternative is worse (i.e. we’re fucked).

Still not Abbott/still beats Tony/Not Tony Abbott/Keeping Tony Away/ Disappointing, Howardesque, lesser-of-two-evils/It could be worse (this person cheated – 4 words)/feed is quite scary. the alternative is worse (another cheater)

12) She’s lagging on gay and refugee rights.

Lacking homosexual equality/homophobe, homophobe, afraid/trite, racist, homophobe

Locks up kids/WhiteAustraliaPolicy

13) Labor lacks ideas

Labor brain freeze

14) and are too close to the Greens/or not Green enough.

Bob’s ranga bitch (see above, sexist and ranga-ist comments)

15) Gillard’s too suburban (class snobbery).

Look at me/Middle Australian nightmare/Terrible accent

16) Gen Ys aren’t impressed.

Complete epic fail/fail fail fail/WTF?/what the fuck?/totally lame arse

17) “this is simplistic”

The last point is right – the whole exercise is a little shallow, even if it is indicative of sentiments toward Gillard. Is ABC so desperate for material that it’s resorted to artificially generating its own news? Can we hope for more, in terms of the quality of political debate? It seems not.

The ABC’s done a word cloud graphic.

Do its editorial policies, which require impartiality, mean that it now has to do a similar thing with Abbott and Brown? I suspect that comments about Abbott would be even more damning.

**ABC did do an Abbott in three (verdict: also crap) but not a Brown in three.

Local poets and musicians who, in my not-very-humble opinion, pack a punch

Eleanor Jackson

We saw her perform at the Going Down Swinging Launch on Friday night. She was so breathtakingly good that my friend had to go outside afterwards to get some fresh air. Her poem was about the experience of getting older, the way your expectations stabilise and your relationships with your parents evolve. It was the way she read it – she performs like she’s feeling it, in a very raw and honest way. Apparently she just moved to Brisbane, which is a bit sad. We’re always losing our best minds to Brisbane.

eleanorjjackson.wordpress.com

Oliver Mann

This song is a bit more poppy than his usual fare, I think. Oliver has quite an operatic sound. That’s not surprising, because he’s also an opera singer. He’s in an opera right now, and playing at the NGV Art After Dark series on consecutive Wednesdays. He sings sad songs, madly imaginative songs, with a twinge of an oddbeat sense of humour in there as well.  The best lyrics I can think of are from Shoes of Leather: ‘Then in Beijing, the plane was landed, policeman stormed the cabin and knocked me down. They’d found one pound of smack in my suitcase – oh lord. I was taken deep into the jungle of death…’

olivermann.com

Little John

Soulful, literate, Southern-style gospel folk with a twist of Aussie wit/pathos. He also plays some rocking numbers – Elvis style. It’s even better live – he has a great energy – as a friend said once, for a smaller guy, he sure ‘packs a punch’. And what’s not to love when inner-Melburnians pretend to be from the Deep South?

putyourhandsonme.com

Luluc

Mesmerising, unadorned folk music – but unfortunately they’ve moved to the US.

lulucmusic.com

Western tourists in India

Western tourists in India

Someone should and probably has written a thesis about the ambivalent position of Western tourists in India. Travelling in India maxed out my middle-class guilt and existential angst, which sits at a pretty high base level at the best of times. I mean, we were there, like cashed up enlightenment bogans, chasing spiritual and personal fulfilment, reaping the benefits of cheap prices, yet completely dependent on the assistance of Indians, as if we were babies. Because you’re so dependent, and you have money, sometimes it almost feels like you’re acting like a bit of a lord, expecting them to meet your every needs, even when those needs might seem bizarre to them.

I felt like a bit of an incompetent fool. I remember this one time, we stopped at a family restaurant and my friend and I needed to use the toilet. We were the only women at the whole restaurant. They had to open up a roller door to get us into the toilet. But it was dark, so we couldn’t really see inside the cubicle. I had to get my head torch from the car, and we put in on our head while we were peeing. Then there was nothing to flush the toilet with, no bucket, no jug, and no tap. So I went to ask one of the young guys, who couldn’t speak English, for water.

He offered me a jug for drinking water, but after I gestured that I needed flushing water, he changed it for a bucket and some water. After we finished in the toilet we needed more water to wash our hands. I asked him, wanting to do it myself, but because I couldn’t really communicate that, he ended up washing my hands for me, splashing water over them while I lathered them up with some soap.

I didn’t know what to do with the soap at the end – I offered it up to him as a way to ask him where to put it – but then he ended up taking it from me – which made me feel guilty – because him taking the soap I’d used to wash my sullied hands seemed a bit dirty, and maybe he was just being polite.

On my very first day in the country, a group of little beggar girls with atypically dark skin and bright clothing grabbed on to my skirts, refused to let go, and started shrieking. I think they were enjoying my obvious discomfort, in a normal group-mentality kid bratty kind of a way. I usually do give money to beggars, but because I was freaked out, and didn’t have my money organised in my pocket, I didn’t give them anything that time. So I tried to cross the road and they hung onto my skirts across the whole six-lane highway. Sounds pretty dangerous, but the traffic doesn’t move as fast in India. I mean, they have cows. Which are cute.

I’ve been to Indonesia, South Africa, and Pakistan, but don’t remember the poverty being as visible in any of these places as in India. Or maybe I was more blase when I was younger. Whatever the reason, the squallor seemed more extreme in India, and there were many more beggars on the street than even in Pakistan, which is ostensibly a poorer country.

The worst scenes for me were on our way to see the Taj Mahal in Agra. The previous day we’d been looking around old Delhi, where we saw shit like kids rooting around in the rubbish. My friend had made the point that even though the poverty was so dire, people still took a lot of care in their environment; the arrangement of fruit, spices, colourful Gods, etc – so there was a kind of beautiful dignity there.

But what we saw on the way to Agra seemed to have little that was redeeming about it – it was horrible, just rubble, piles of stuff and buildings falling down and scaffolding and desperate poverty and complete ugliness. Which is not to say that these people didn’t have any dignity or whatever, but just that the poverty was severe and the scene was shocking.

How far could the $1500 used to pay for my plane ticket have gone towards helping people? I mean, it would have been relatively easy for me to give this money instead of taking the trip, if I actually cared enough. And what’s the use of even talking about the unfairness of wealth inequality if you’re not going to anything? Analysing it is almost more hypocritical, because you make yourself feel better but you don’t actually do anything.

In terms of benefiting from inequality, there’s really no difference between being in India or in Australia. In Australia, we’re still benefiting from economic exploitation – for example, the only reason things are so cheap is because it’s produced under horrible, cost-cutting labour conditions. The inequity is just more obvious in India.

It’s amazing how quick you slip into an entitlement mentality. When I was in Islamabad in Pakistan doing volunteer work, I stayed for a month with an older man, the father of my university lecturer. He had servants. The house servant, who cooked every single meal for us, including my customised breakfast every day, used to watch TV from outside the door of the lounge room, he wasn’t allowed to come in. And he would sleep on the floor of the kitchen. But my host also supported the servant and his family in a number of ways.

Despite the kindness of my hosts in having me, I was getting a bit frustrated – my host was, naturally, very concerned about my safety, so wouldn’t let me go outside the house by myself. I’d never experienced that before.

I wanted to do some exercise at least, so insisted, against a little resistance (which was partly on safety concerns and partly, I think, on a class thing about walking around being something lower-class people do), that he let me go for a walk each day. So he did, but made one of the servants come with me. They wouldn’t walk beside me, they’d just tail behind. I think walking is something that the lower-classes do (except if you’re like a rich Pakistani cosmopolitanite who wears a tracksuit and goes for brisk exercise walks).So the servants really, really hated coming for those walks. You could tell.

One day, one of them said they had a sore foot and they couldn’t come. It seemed pretty obvious to me that they were faking it. But my host backed them up, because I think he didn’t like the walks anyway. I was frustrated. I whinged, from memory, although I think I gave up quickly. But what struck me from that experience was how easily this sense of entitlement, and expectation of servitude, become naturalised.

Guy looking after pot plants at Delhi airport – carpet is very Indian.

Richer people at Coffee-A-Day at Delhi domestic airport. Best airport I’ve ever been to. They had free internet.

My theory is that most people only do good things when it’s easy and suits us. This is p apparent when it comes to environmental issues, too. Which is why young, fit, fearless bike riders who live in the inner-city, or people with money who buy organic vegetables and solar panels shouldn’t feel too shiny.

Look at these guys. We saw them in Calcutta. I have blanked out their faces, because I am about to make fun of them.

Anyway, these guys were just walking around the streets of Kolkata with their shoes off, something no Indian would ever do, except maybe the sadhus. I think they’re saying: ‘We’re so OK with all this, that we’re happy to walk around and step on dirt and cow poo and possibly human faeces.’

I don’t knock people who go to India for spiritual enlightenment, I can identify with it and wouldn’t dismiss the possibility of doing it myself someday (maybe soon?).  But I felt embarrassed by these guys – it was like they represented Western faux-hemian culture, something which I suspect I might be mildly a part of..

Anyway, I’m going to write more about India, I want to write about some of the cultural and intellectual stuff we saw, it wasn’t just the poverty but that’s something that was on my mind today. And so…

Law and justice, Baillieu style

Robert Clarke, Victoria’s Attorney General, on homosexuality back in 95: ‘I believe homosexual practices form a destructive way of life, destructive to the individual and destructive also to other individuals who are brought into that way of life.’ Wonder if he maintains the same view today? I think of the 90s as a slightly more intolerant time for gays and lesbians, but maybe that’s because I was at a country high school then, which may have been an inherently intolerant context.

It was Robert Clarke who spearheaded recent changes to Victoria’s equal opportunity laws which removed the ‘inherent requirement’ test for religious schools and organisations seeking to discriminate against employees and job applicants. The laws now give religious schools and orgs almost complete freedom to discriminate against employees (even maths teachers, art teachers, cleaners, or gardeners who really don’t have any religious role) who are of a different faith, or gay and lesbian, pregnant and unmarried, single parents, divorced.

It’s customary for the Liberals and haters of equal opportunity laws to accuse anti-discrimination advocates of ‘social engineering,’ a term so nebulous as to be meaningless. But if you take social engineering to mean constructing society they way you want it, isn’t privileging religious sensitivities over diversity just another form of that?

There was a targeted campaign against the laws, and a protest on the steps of parliament, but they involved a relatively small amount of people. In general, there wasn’t a huge community backlash against the laws – most people didn’t know about them, I don’t think, or perhaps they thought it wouldn’t affect them. Victorian Labor arced up about it, which rightly they should have, given that the progressive reforms to equal opportunity laws in 2010 were their baby, and the product of an extensive consultation process. In contrast, the Liberals’ changes seemed to involve little consultation at all, except with right-wing religious groups like the Australian Christian Lobby.

Actually, a strange thing happened when the Liberals first tried to introduce the equal opportunity bill in the state lower house. One of their ministers, Mary Wooldridge, missed the vote, and then the speaker, following parliamentary convention, voted the bill down (the Liberals only hold the lower house 45:43). Wooldridge claimed that her absence was an accident and an embarrassment, but it seemed a little suspicious – she’s one of the more socially progressive of Liberal MPs and the bell they ring for a vote at Parliament is ear-splittingly shrill – but maybe she was stuck in the lift or something.

Defying parliamentary convention, the Liberals used their numbers the following sitting week to push the bill through the lower house, and Woolridge voted for it too. The Liberals also control the upper house, and after five hours of debate on June 15, the vote passed through there too. So that’s what you get when you vote for a government comprised of the likes of Clarke, Geoff Shaw (acknowledges God as the traditional owner of the land and compares being gay to drink driving), and the goblin-like Bernie Finn (who in the equal opportunity bill debate, talks about having friends that are gay and going out for drinks with them, and working with members of the media who are gay: ‘that did not disturb me’ – as if he deserves a pat on the back or something).

I’ve also been following the debate abpit the so-called ‘swear jar’, the $240 fines for indecent language, which has fired up the bunch of people to the extent that they have organised a fuckwalk next weekend. Swearing has actually been illegal for years, under the anachronistic Summary Offences Act, which incidentally, also makes it a crime to be drunk in public, sing obscene ballads, fly kites annoyingly and pursue homing pigeons (hey, wouldn’t it be fun to do all of these things at the same time?).

While the swear laws have been the focus of media attention, which is unsurprising given that they’re a colourful, easy-to-tell story which clearly relates to freedom of expression, it’s worth noting that the Baillieu government’s laws actually apply to a whole swag of offences. What they do with these particular offences is that they make them punishable by police (through fines), instead of the courts.

These infringement offences were introduced by Brumby as part of a trial in mid-2008. The following offences which formed part of the trial were made permanent by Baillieu in the latest bill: offensive behaviour, indecent language, range of liquor-related offences, unauthorised consumption of liquor on a party bus. The trials for wilful damage of up to $500,  and shop theft of goods valued at up to $600 were extended.

When Brumby instigated the trial, an evaluation was set up to determine whether the infringements were actually working to unclog the courts and relieve resource pressure on police, as well as to monitor the impact on disadvantaged groups such as young people, mentally ill, indigenous people, and the homeless. Because these groups are more likely to be inhabiting public space and may have other behaviour issues closely linked to disadvantage, they are more vulnerable to getting the fines for public order offences, and also less likely to be able to tackle the arcane bureaucratic process of challenging them.

If they don’t or can’t pay the fine, they’ll have their matter heard in court and receive a criminal record for the offence. When an enforcement order is issued for the unpaid debt, the amount increases. And people who can’t afford legal representation may struggle to get free assistance to challenge the fine, given the pressure on already besieged community legal centres.

Here’s Robert Clarke explaining and justifying the laws, although he’s not expansive, so don’t expect to be enlightened. According to Clarke, a report evaluating the trial laws showed that they reduced pressure on the courts, freed up police resources,  and ‘enabled [police] to more readily issue penalties against those offenders who deserve them.’ T The latter seems like a fairly insubstantive outcome in itself. Clarke doesn’t say anything about the impact on vulnerable groups, and the government has refused to make the evaluation report public.  This is a goverment elected on promises of transparency and accountability.

Community legal groups such as PILCH and Federation of Community Legal Centres were on the ‘steering committee’ for the evaluation, but even they weren’t shown the final evaluation. It is telling that these groups, who deal with some of the most disadvantaged members of the community, expressed serious concerns about the infringement bill. Even the usually cautious Victorian Equal Opportunity and Human Rights Commission outlined possible discriminatory impacts.

With infringement offences, police, rather than courts, get to mete out punishment.  Given what we’ve seen of the police force’s ability to deal with complex behaviour, including that of the mentally ill, the logic of giving them discretion to hand out fines for what are essentially very subjective offences (come on, what’s offensive language or behaviour these days? who decides?) seems questionable.

Other Baillieu government initiatives include mandatory jail sentences for teenagers, more jails, and semi-automatic toting security guards on trains. Will this law and order stuff make us safer? Is Victoria unsafe? I don’t feel unsafe, most of the time. Why is that? Is it because I’m a privileged middle-class inner-suburb citizen? Is it less safe in the suburbs?

Incidentally, public drunkenness, another public order offence, is still a crime under the Summary Offences Act (Victoria’s that hasn’t de-criminalised it), allowing a person to be arrested and put in a cell overnight, and the fine is about $950 dollars. I don’t know what the figures are now, but in 2007 The Age reported that 260 people a week were arrested for it.

Police might argue that public drunkenness laws are a means for them to get people off the streets, but it’s a crude way of administering justice if people haven’t actually committed a proper offence. It’s likely to exacerbate and heighten a violent situation, and completely fails to deal with the root of the problem, which is substantially about alcohol abuse,  a public health issue.

Progressive former Attorney General Rob Hulls had promised to review the public drunkenness laws, but then in 2010 Brumby said he wasn’t going to do it. I think this was partly about pressure from the law-and-order lobby, but it’s also relevant that the parliamentary committee said public drunkenness should only be decriminalised if sufficient sobering-up centres could be established. This would, of course, cost money.

Again, community legal centres are against the laws because like other public order offences, they are very susceptible to being used against groups that are already disadvantaged. Public drunkenness is a ridiculous offence – I mean,  I commit it almost every second weekend, although of course, for obvious reasons, I’d never be arrested.

With these public order offences, allowing police to ‘efficiently’ deal with problems by removing people from the streets, thus maintaining a semblance of order and control, and freeing up resources, has been valued more highly than a fair process and dealing with the source of problems.

Much, although not all, of this public order stuff is about late-night violence in the CBD and on public transport. What causes it? Alcohol, obviously, and law and order policies aren’t going to address that problem. There’s also the lack of public transport – people get stuck in the city and they can’t get home at night, so they deteriorate thier own situation – and a lack of people using transport – the futility of doing so, because of infrequent trains and poor connections, means that suburban train stations are scarily deserted at night. Perhaps better night-time transport would go some of the way to addressing the problem of night-time violence.

But there’s some other reason, too, for the violence – I mean, Japanese people might get blind drunk when they go out on the weekends, but from what I hear they’re more likely to fall in a gutter than start a fight.  I could be wrong, but I think there’s something cultural/psychological behind male violence,  a repressed anger and frustration that doesn’t have an outlet.

And let’s not forget about crime’s other heartland – the home (the Age gets a bit ‘bigger picture’ for once).

No man should be able to tell a woman what to deforest

So Ken ‘I don’t date girls that are into deforestation’ (simpering tone) has decided he’s dumping Barbie.

I’m sorry Ken, but do you live in inner Melbourne? You’re clearly one of those ‘sensitive types’ who pretend to be all snag but are just as patriarchal as the next man.

Your apparent concern for your girlfriend’s moral welfare reeks of the utmost hypocrisy, and is really just an excuse for controlling behaviour. Barbie’s hobbies shouldn’t be of any concern to you.

Barbie, let him go. You don’t need him. He’s not even hot. His brassy bouffant looks a little gay. I think he is gay.

Be a ‘skanky hoe’ (deliberately spelled like the garden rake) and be proud of it. Reclaim the term. Don’t let those misogynistic, fun-hating Greenpeace wowsers get you down. I actually think they’re threatened by capitalist women.

More info on the misogynistic campaign.

Book review: The Amateur Science of Love by Craig Sherborne

Cross-posted from LiteraryMinded.

If you’ve read any of Craig Sherborne’s writing, you’ll know not to expect a rosy-eyed view of the world. The Amateur Science of Love follows the grim journey of a love affair gone wrong.

Colin leaves the unglamorous environs of his parents’ farm to pursue an acting career in London, seeking recognition in the eyes of others and satiation of his own ego. In London, Colin meets Tilda, a young artist whose hint of tragedy and complexity only makes her more attractive. In the fiery early stages of their affair, love and lust are almost inseparable; an all-consuming, visceral illness. Even love, Colin realises, is a small-scale form of fame and power.

Consumed by this desire, so heady and self-affirming as to be a kind of vanity, the two lovers set up a life together, moving to country Victoria. Beset by a series of unfortunate events, and strained by the stifling banality of a deadbeat country town, the lovers’ hastily rendered relationship sours into something deeply unpleasant.

As the affair deteriorates, Colin’s unkind thoughts grow like a cancer, rotting his integrity. He abjectly neglects moral responsibilities (there’s one particularly horrifying example), and treats Tilda like inconvenient baggage. He determines women’s worth based on callous assessments of their physical appearance. Colin’s dark ruminations, laid bare by Sherborne, are both confronting and utterly familiar.

Yet Colin’s not entirely devoid of moral conscience – he periodically segues into a retrospective voice, regretfully ruminating on his ‘lopsided record’ and expressing a desire to ‘square his soul.’ There are even times when he genuinely cares for and looks after Tilda, although we’re still left guessing whether it’s more about his ego.

Tilda, physically vulnerable and sensing Colin’s fading interest in her, is naturally insecure, making her fits of jealous pique, manipulative behaviour and vindictiveness understandable. But it’s difficult to pity her, as we’re never given a sense of her inner self. And this is possibly the author’s intent; the cardboard cut-out version of Tilda is a realistic perception of her through the eyes of self-obsessed Colin.

Sherborne’s humour is acerbic, his prose fluid and sparing. He tells cruel human truths in poetry, often with caustic, biting humour – ‘just a thought-sip of suicide, nothing more’ (a failed interview), and ‘it was like he was from hospital and she was from Spain’ (lusting after the glamorous wife of a cancer patient). The tale moves at a cracking pace, and Colin’s recollections are used to foreshadow his inevitable comeuppance, creating a sense of foreboding which culminates in the uneasy ending.

Colin and Tilda experience the common epiphany experienced by young people with aspirations; that in reality, life can be mundane and unrewarding, that it’s not necessarily a carnival designed for your own enjoyment, or an indomitable escalator of achievement. Colin is left feeling hollow, and wondering whether other people, like him, are living what they feel is a second-class life. Yet there’s still a sense of possibility; the future is pulling him to an unknown destination.

Sherborne doesn’t let much of what’s human slip through his net, especially if it’s unsavoury. The Amateur Science of Love is a brutally honest exploration of what can go wrong when naïveté, vanity, and unrealistic aspirations meet with the curse of misfortune. It’s packed with psychological juice.

Crude royalism

‘If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.’ This comment, defending the monarchy, was met by a near-unanimous sea of approving nods. I was surprised to discover that the elders in my writing group are almost all devout royalists. In retrospect, it should have been obvious – for many of the older generation, the royals were a big part of their lives, so it’s their heritage.

Some of the group had had close encounters with the royals. One had a father who’d been the chef for the Queen’s father, King George VI (aka Colin Firth) in England. Another’s uncle had once had Charles to stay at his country farmhouse (naturally Charles was totally humble, eschewing royal airs and graces, etc.).

The group tended to see the royals as more inspiring, and less Machiavellian, than Aussie pollies. The predominant view was that as the monarchy doesn’t interfere, it doesn’t do any harm and we should keep it. And I mean, the Chaser saga aside (which I’m sure didn’t exactly devastate the people in my group!), the royals don’t really interfere, do they? We even set the Queen’s birthday on the date that suits us.

I must admit, I was totally carried away by the elaborate archaism of the royal wedding. One of my friends hired out a room at the back of the bar for her 30th birthday and we watched it as a group, attired in semi-royal garb and alternating between snide and admiring comments. I had made a crude crown out of alfoil, which is a perfect crown-making material when you can’t find sticky tape or scissors.

The Queen looked so cute in her canary-yellow suit and hat. I loved her stony face, too, it was like: ‘I’ve seen it all before, mate, don’t you worry, and I’m not going to get my hopes ride on this one.’ Imagine the stories she could tell, if she was able to speak frankly. Imagine if you could drill a hole through her brain and extract her memories, and then publish them uncensored (without harming her or anyone else). It would be a corker.

They say that the monarchy represents undemocratic ideals and taxpayer-funds-wastage and all that, but given that Australian politics feels like eating sand, the royal mythology and ceremonies offer welcome relief.

I guess, to be honest, I’m not really overly interested in the monarchy. But it’s just that events like Di’s death, or the royal wedding, experienced together via mass-media, give you a sense of global community, even it is slightly faux and an inferior substitute for the real thing (which I’m not sure is even possible).

PS. Check out these 90 ‘ghastly’ Prince Phillip gaffes – the meticulous cataloguing of which is surely a significant journalistic achievement. You will enjoy some relishable winces.