Sorry to say this, but there’s an elephant in the room.
Actually, the elephant is sitting squarely in the offices of the Sydney Institute.
In fact, dare I actually write this [yes I do]: the elephant has taken a giant dump in Gerard Henderson’s brain hole.
Rude, crude, but, oh so sadly, true.
A few days ago I described Dr Henderson’s Media Watch Dog blog in less than flattering terms:
It reads much like a discussion the Mad Hatter might have with himself on rising from bed and trying to work out which pants to put on.
I realise now that was flattery of the worst kind. He has outdone himself with today’s poor effort.
I can say no more about this. The evidence speaks for itself:
Sandal-Wearer Simons Steps Out
In today’s Daily Telegraph, Miranda Devine reports as follows:
“When sandal-wearing freelance journalist and prolific tweeter Margaret Simons told the print media inquiry newspapers had “hundreds” of journalists sitting around in their newsrooms, smirks and discreet eye rolls swept the ranks of working reporters.
Those who’ve worked in a newsroom any time in the past decade are painfully aware of rows of empty desks that tell a story of declining circulations and shrinking revenue. But that reality doesn’t seem to have intruded much on the inquiry in a small tatty room in the bowels of Sydney University’s School of Tropical Medicine.”
Quite so. Don’t say MWD hasn’t warned the world at large about leftist sandal-wearers. Or Sandalistas. It’s not so long ago that Ms Simons entered into personal correspondence with MWD objecting to the fact that Nancy’s co-owner had described her as a sandal wearer. [I’m surprised you did not publish this personal correspondence - Ed].
Ms Simons also became upset when Nancy’s co-owner described her as a compost-sexual and revealed that her award winning book Malcolm Fraser: The Political Memoir – which she co-authored with Malcolm Fraser – was littered with factual errors. As to the compost-sexual reference, this is what Margaret Simons told The Age on 27 May 2004. Here we go:
“Compost is earthy and sexy in both the literal and metaphorical sense. The smells of sweet, well-made compost are not dissimilar to the smells of a bedroom after sex. It is the smell of the stuff of life. To my mind, a good composter is likely to be a good lover – in touch with their sensuality and aware that sex has nothing to do with airbrushing and deodorising and shaving and counsels of supposed perfection. Sex is animal. It is to do with smells, tastes, fertility and growth. The same things are true of compost.”
According to Tim Dick’s report in this morning’s Sydney Morning Herald, Margaret Simons told the Media Inquiry:
When I’ve criticised the ABC, I’ve been quoted in The Australian as an independent and respected media commentator. When I criticise News Ltd, I’m a gardening writer and a blogger.
For the record, MWD regards Ms Simons as a “gardening writer” – which helps explain the howlers in her Malcolm Fraser book.
Unfortunately, Nancy has never been invited around to Margaret Simons’ inner-city Melbourne digs to check-out her compost. But, if, as the saying goes, she’s up for it – then Nancy would sure like an offer to get-down-and-dirty in the Simons’ compost.
In the meantime, Nancy fantasises that there was a scent of compost on the sandals that the sandal-wearer Simons wore to Ray Finkelstein QC’s inquiry in Sydney yesterday.
I have not altered a word or a comma.
If you think this is OK or even funny then you are a bigger dribblejaws than Gerard Henderson.
Gerard, you and Nancy really do need that well-earned break.
This is the last MWD until 27 January 2012. Like her journalistic colleagues, Nancy does not do holidays. But she certainly does well-earned breaks. So, as from (after lunch) today, Nancy will be heading for the kennels and her WEB. Some material scheduled for this week has had to be held over until next year. Here’s hoping youse all can wait.
However, be warned. Nancy is now in theTwitter Zone and may send out occasional Media Watch Dog messages over the Festive Season.
Yeah, get out of here you stupid, horrid little twerp.