No Laughing Matter

IT WAS a long time ago, but unless memory deceives, Max Gillies once had some ability to amuse. Why he lost it, well anyone who saw last night's Q&A would not want for an explanation.

Gillies is married to panelist Louise Adler.

UPDATE: That was a most unfair remark, so apologies from the Billabong to shrews and empty vessels everywhere. And also to Max Gillies, who may yet prove that, in the right house and before the perfect crowd, he can still raise a titter. That audience will be the one at the inevitable variety benefit to save Fairfax and raise awareness of the evil that is Gina Rinehart. And what a constellation of Australian stars those ticket-buying Age readers will get to see. Perhaps to be called Stand Up for Fairfax, can't you just imagine the cavalcade of wits and wags.

Why, our Premier will surely volunteer to serve as master of ceremonies, seeing the evening as an encore opportunity to ingratiate himself with Greens voters, Occupists and other of the Age's current audience. He has been working up his act at the Premier's Literary Awards, where aides assure him there wasn't a straight face in the house when he had finished handing the proceeds of so many revenue-camera fines to writer-practioners of advanced Indigenous victimology, abrasive feminism and innovative sexuality.

Expect Baillieu to introduce as the first act of the night Circus Oz's current harangue about the injustice done to Aborigines. When you're in the mood for jugglers and acrobats, nothing quite beats being lectured about unwashable white guilt. And it is good for the environment, too. At the latest Circus Oz, which also enjoys the taxpayers' sponsorship courtesy of Mr Baillieu's hobby portfolio as Minister for the Arts, the house has been half empty after intermission, thus staggering the departing crowd and easing the burden on our public transport system.

And who else would we be likely to see? Rod Quantock, of course, and perhaps Catherine Deveny too. Now that Paul Ramadge, the editor who sacked her has himself been sacked., the Disabilities Ambassador will tap that rich vein of humour to be found in the spaz jokes her caring and exquisitely  compassionate audiences so love and enjoy.

Into his heady mix, inject Andrew Jaspan in his little car and giant shoes, plus an apparent drag act that will, to the embarrassment of some, turn out to be Michelle Grattan.

Visiting from his Fairfax-paid digs in Washington, Paul McGeough and his activist spouse will lead the audience in a chorus of those peculiar ululations so popular at suicide bomber funerals, after which  expect a door prize for the first person to spot a wolfish Zionist. As Leunig's most celebrated cartoon -- celebrated by the Iranians, no less -- significantly diminished readership in East St Kilda and Caulfield, expect to find very few sons of Abraham in such an assembly of Age readers. Funny how some folks just don't get that Auschwitz humour.

And finally, in a burst of song, anticipate the Age's 93 full-time environmental reporters joining as one to bid the night adieu in massed chorus.

The Murray's dry

We're about to die

So goodnight all

Farewell, goodbye

They say Adam Morton is a wonderful tenor.