A. Dill's Prescription

THERE IS a bit of thick-headedness at the Billabong this morning, a consequence of an evening that began with several Boag's lagers, moved to some whites and then a bottle of red, plunged into the champagne and tailed off in the wee hours with a little port -- well, more than a little, actually -- before drawing to an end, according to the evidence of the morning on the bedside table, with, of all things, a vodka and orange. The last item is something of a mystery, as it has not been a favoured tipple since the Fourth Form break-up party, and that was back when John Gorton occupied the Lodge. The emptiness of the adjoining pillow is another riddle. Memories are foggy, but it is a near certainty that a special someone occupied that spot when the lights went out. Very shortly it will be time to place a diplomatic phone call, one that will need to begin with a carefully weighted choice of words and the option thereafter of veering into the realm of apology.

Not to worry. If there are to be  recriminatory words about  the Professor's behaviour -- and the remains of a barbecued lamb leg used as an ashtray, also on the bedside table, suggest there will be --  then praise be to the Great Bunyip for shaping from the clippings of social workers' manuals, dried-out chardonnay corks and designer coffee grounds the wonder that is A Dill Horin. It is true that the Silly's joyless scold seldom adds to the sum of human knowledge, but this morning's column is the exception. If there was bestial behaviour last night and if some judicious grovelling will be required, the latter can now be qualified by quoting from A Dill's praise for the Nanny State and its regulations.

Intoxicated? Obstreperous? Back on the fags? Thank God for Adele, who proves that all those grave flaws of character are the fault of naysayers who would stay the state's hand from crafting fresh rules to regulate  the individual's folly. As Adele explains it,

Yes, we have reason to be thankful that governments sometimes legislate in ways that infringe on our liberties. Personal responsibility is too flimsy a bulwark against the forces of irresponsible, laissez-faire capitalism.

So very true! If only legislation had been on the books to foil the mixing of drinks and gnawing of lamb bones in bed, the Professor's head would not be throbbing, nor would this post have been interrupted twice by the demands of a fractious bowel. In this instance A Dill is putting the case for controls on punters' right to lose their money on poker machines, but her wisdom is clearly universal. After the pokies, let our governments and bureaucrats save us from fatty foods and riding bicycles in unapproved attire. Hang on, they have already attended to the latter, so Adele and her morally superior friends will be free to focus on their next campaign of legislated betterment.

Compulsory jogging, anyone? Wait a bit and Adele and her pals will tick that box as well, no doubt about it.

Now for that ticklish phone call.