Grand Final

I'd really rather not talk about it. But I do feel obliged to clear up a misconceptions.

After the game, I stopped at a petrol station and when I went in to pay the bloke said:

TB: 'So? Are you happy or sad?'
Me: 'Sad' (obviously)
TB: 'Ah well, the Cats did pretty well last year, didn't they?'

Now, as you all know, I am not a Cats supporter, but 'the Cats did pretty well last year' is of no use to me because I wanted revenge.

One of the indelibly traumatic experiences of my childhood is sitting with my then six-year-old Cats barracker younger brother in our uncle's front room and watching the Cats get done by Hawthorn in 1989. For me there are few scenes to equal the pathos of a little kid whose team is getting shellacked. The look of total concentration, the heart on the sleeve.

The 1989 Grand Final left its mark on all of us; Mum, for example, has it in for Malcolm Blight because she holds him responsible for upsetting her little boy. Hawthorn played with the inevitability of the Roman Army and the best Mum could do for my brother was tell him that after centuries of subjugation the Germanic Tribes had finally destroyed the Roman Empire. As far as I was concerned, this weekend was supposed to be Odoacer at Ravenna.

Very Small Government

Today, Mr Turnbull positioned the Liberal Party as the party of small government. Unlike the Labor Party, he told us, the Libs are, apparently, not vain enough to think they can make decisions for everyone else.

This came as a surprise to me; I thought that making decisions is what Government is.

As you can imagine, I was even more surprised to hear that his major criticism of the Rudd Government was that they hadn't been doing enough governing.

When are the poor old Libs going to find themselves a leader who is clear on whether or not he is in favour of governing?

Do Me A Favour; It's a Flaming Book Shop, Of Course We've Got Jane Austen

I have been staying up with my birthday present; a complete set of The Sweeney and an espresso machine - not really, but you know what I mean - and I have to say that the misogyny and racism (when they actually have non-anglo characters) is starting to get to me.

I love The Sweeney. I do. Men in high heels, paisley ties, skin tight three piece pin-stripe suits and very approximate hair cuts. Denis Waterman, I've loved since I was a kid. I even like On The Up. And it's not like there's some particular incident, its just the relentlessly of the sexism.

A little girl interviewed in 1975 said in response to a question about female characters on Doctor Who 'it's a bit better, but its still mainly the girls falling over and ruining everything'. When I first heard the interview I failed to appreciate her ability to find the nub. I was hoping for subtlety, complexity, deconstruction. I was young and foolish and didn't realise that the problem was a lot more basic than I imagined.

People talk about how no one writes 'good female characters'. When they elaborate, it turns out they mean morally good or psychologically complex or kooky, and most often, just more like themselves. Honestly, I'd just like one female character on The Sweeney who wasn't a drag.