Thursday, February 23 .....

One of the best things to happen to Australian TV over the last few years has been the breakfast program on the ABC. At last, a show which has a quiet dignity about it and doesn’t encourage the inanities of a Kochie or a Karl.

Virginia Trioli is a star. I think her Twitter address says all that we need to know about her: LaTrioli. No false modesty there, Dame Joan Sutherland was La Stupenda; Virginia clearly sees herself in that company. I know that lots of people can’t tolerate her ‘rudeness’ when she interrupts her political guests, but I see it as her determination to pin them to answer the question she has asked. Even if she doesn’t get them to tell the truth, she does show them up to be the weasels they really are. I can’t wait until she comes back; Karina is pretty but is a lightweight compared to Latrioli.

Now Michael Rowland. I can really relate to him. I suppose he could be called a dweeb (is that a word?) and I can see a lot of myself in him. He loves puns and never resists the temptation to share his delight in them. He’s also a fan of Monty Python and is prone to quote from one of their movies at odd times. This morning he was interviewing Nicola Roxon about Kevin Rudd’s resignation, and the whole tone of the interview was very serious. Nicola was suggesting, po-faced, that Kevin saw himself as a messiah, ready to bring the ALP out of the wilderness. Michael couldn’t help himself and blurted out the line from the Life of Brian, ‘He’s not the messiah, he’s just a naughty boy.’

A magic moment in this whole fine mess (that’s a reference to Oliver Hardy in case you missed it).

I’ve spent today in town. I dropped the car off for a service this morning and thought I would have a quiet day away from the computer. It was a good chance to spend an hour or two in the Library and Harvey Norman and Officeworks. Great!

In the Mall, I met this bloke busking with his alpaca. I suppose it was, technically, busking even though neither the man nor his alpaca sang or played an instrument. The alpaca (beautiful creature!) had a leather pouch around his neck and would lift its head to receive your coins. I reckon the bloke was on to a good thing.

A postscript to my comment on the book, The Hound of the D’Urbervilles – after the first chapter or two the cleverness became quite forced and the plot was certainly a bit thin. If I were writing a report on it, I might say: Began with great promise but its fundamental weaknesses soom became apparent.
It’s back to obscurity for Kim Newman.