Good Form, Poor Form (September 2014)

POOR FORM to all the bad news on TV. Why can’t journalists report on something a little less depressing for a change? They seem obsessed with misery. There are plenty of fun things happening if you know where to look. Our rabbit, Sven, had kittens the other day for instance. We dressed them all up as celebrities and floated them across the pool in a shoebox so the kids could shoot nerf guns at them. The kids were happy as Larry, and you should have seen Larry! He practically jumped out of his skin when the Oprah Winfrey kitten copped one between the eyes. Eventually he had to be sedated for his own safety. It was really quite exciting. Not as sensational as a real live human beheading perhaps, but more funny, and far easier on the stomach. Yet no one from the media was “on the ground” as they say, so it went unreported. I guess they were all too busy hanging off the coattails of Vladimir Putin or Clive Palmer or some other desperate attention seeker. Rolf Harris maybe. That was hardly news; I mean you’ve only got to look at the guy. It’s not rocket science. Speaking of rocket science: Mars? I think not. Seriously, what do they take us for? The moon, maybe, but Mars? And all these constant updates on wars and plagues and race riots in far-flung places; how do we know these places even exist? I know Bali exists because I’ve been there, but Burkina Faso?? Come on! This isn’t Star Wars. Speaking of Bali, when we arrived there my family and I passed through immigration and customs without a hitch. Not one of us was arrested for drug importation. Of course the papers the next day ignored the entire episode. Meanwhile Schapelle continued to hog the limelight. Is this balanced? Impartial? The Flight home was pleasant enough, and it was not hijacked or shot down by separatist rebels. Upon our landing our Prime Minister was predictably tight-lipped. Presumably His Lordship felt the news was not “evil” enough for the public to digest. Well, grow some nuts, that’s what I say. And I’m not speaking euphemistically but literally. Why not grow some nuts? Plant a nut tree. It might seem like a boring waste of time but at least it’s not impossible – unlike clearing your name or drinking cheese through a straw. If it’s world-wide coverage you’re after then decapitate away. But I’m getting started on the best damn nut farm on the planet. And someday, Prime Minister, you’ll find my nuts in your breakfast cereal. Maybe then my efforts will be deemed newsworthy.

          Quentin Horbath, Mornington

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SIMON PETOCHIO