OXFORD: “Watch me make 69 reasons to extend one fistic phenotype into Richard Dawkins’ improbable ego!” says a blindly delusional Payton L. Inkletter.

Be all that as it may, meanwhile:

'In other news…'

26^th March 2010

Friday: My plans to work with Bob today were scuttled by my state of health, specifically weariness that would have made driving unsafe; so I slept till well into the afternoon, but still felt I had a long way to go towards feeling well rested when I finally surfaced.

We had something very nice to look forward to, namely, the Chocsons were joining us and The Dear Leader for dinner. They arrived towards half six, and didn't leave till after one a.m., giving us all, as is always the case, a thoroughly enjoyable evening. They are rolled gold friends. As well as Janny's delicious meal, copious quantities of chocolate and cocoa drinks went west, predominantly courtesy of the best efforts of we two younger bucks, oiling the conviviality of the occasion most effectively.

Back from the future update 1: I had the foresight to record Lateline with Windows Media Center on the computer, and late Saturday evening got to watch it: The (Leigh) Sales Graph: Looking a tad nautical with a horizontally dark striped white camisole under a dark jacket, Ms Sales' appearance was faultless, bedecked with minimalist jewellery, subtle-effect make-up, and becoming hairstyle. She had for the regular Friday night fight club interview Liberal Senator George Brandis and Labor backbencher Maxine McKew, the male gendered polly bedecked smartly and conservatively in a dark striped suit, lightly mauve shaded or grey shirt, and maroon with white dots tie, the female gendered polly and former legendary Lateline host and Prime Minister killer bedecked simply as well also smartly in a dark jacket and white high necked blouse, subtle effect make-up and loose flaring hair style finishing the decorations.

As mostly per usual with these sparring pairings, the polarised positions of the pollies was as predictable as the behaviour of a Methodist parson at a parishioner's Sunday roast, but let me note that Ms McKew has lost none of her articulateness honed over many years on this very program, and Mr Brandis kept a professionally controlled delivery, even if the content was unbelievable in places.

For example, he said "… I thought Tony Abbott won the debate hands down" referring to last Monday's health debate with the Prime Minister; I couldn't agree with that, nor did most; Mr Abbott lost it as far as I was concerned when he let rip with that over the top triple harmony laugh.

I would not like to have to defend the behaviour of Barnaby Joyce in a ministerial position, shadow or otherwise, as Mr Brandis chose to do after Ms Sales' raising of the matter of his removal as Finance spokesman in Mr Abbott's shadow cabinet reshuffle of yesterday. Loose cannons like Mr Joyce would be better suited to such positions in developing and illiterate nations' governments, but in Australia's case, keep him away from official portfolio podiums; his opinions, some of which are rather valuable and insightful, are better left to stir up the pot behind the scenes, not in front of the prime time sound byte seeking cameras. Mr Abbott's judgment is worth questioning regarding his placing Mr Joyce in such high public profile positions.

Ms Sales did not have to work very hard to keep these two pollies behaving themselves, for they kept themselves well in check, to their credit.

Thank heavens Stephen Long was next! The (Stephen) Long and Short of It: My word, top marks to Mr Long's hairstylist off camera for taming his freshly tousled curls that his mother insists on messing up every chance she gets, as well as to his own snazzy dress sense tonight, looking expensive in a dark suit and blue shaded striped shirt combo, set off with a glossy and textured light pink tie.

His first subject that Ms Sales tossed to him was Barack Obama's next big economics move, a plan to restructure finance for myriads of beleaguered home owners, followed by Germany's dictation, within the EU, of the terms of Greece's bailout.

As always, it was a pleasure to listen to Mr Long's opinions and analysis.

Back from the future update 2: I learnt 'tomorrow' – Saturday – that my Aunt Pat, 83, died yesterday, in Bayswater, not too far from here. She has been widowed many years now to my maternal blood uncle, Ernest, or 'Snow'. Had I been well today, I had been planning, since Monday, when Mum told me she was home to die from a long stay in hospital, to visit her on the way to Bob's to take him swimming. Such is the nature of the march of mortality: time seals things, and waits for no man.

+paytontedwithlove+

PERTH: "Big storm bin come up!" Payton L. Inkletter exclaimed, shaking his fur dry, after experiencing the breaking of the longest dry spell on record

Be all that as it may, meanwhile:

'In other news…'

22^nd March 2010

Monday: Soooo tired, but up we dragged ourselves, to get ready to visit Mum and take her to her doctor. I hit the sack last night after three, but took ages to fall asleep, and was fighting a headache inhabiting the shadows, refusing to show itself and fight against some white comforters (I was too exhausted to get up to engage in some chemical warfare).

Getting ourselves ready, from our mid-morning get up onwards, the humidity and heat were stifling, and it was a harbinger for what was to come as a result of the sauna and inferno like conditions late in the day…

We arrived towards one at Mum's in Melville, then found ourselves on time at her doctor's surgery at half one in Booragoon, but the doctor was running an hour late. A long wait ensued.

Finally, in the Garden City shopping centre nearby, Mum treated her favourite child, moi, to a Miss Maud's savoury spinach roll and a Goulbourn Valley apples and guava juice, Missus Inkletter, her favourite daughter-in-law, settling just for a juice, due to her strict Byetta inspired diet. Then began our shopping in Coles, and while in there the heavens broke…

For ages we heard hail thundering down on the roof, and later on our way back to our car in the basement near Myers we passed a huge section of the mall covered in water. The car park had a lake in it.

We drove to the Myaree Shopping Centre in steady rain and a spectacular lightning show, and Mum got some things in the newsagency there, with the lightning outside and above us intensifying. About five o'clock, when we stepped out of the newsagency, the rain began sheeting in horizontally, and even though we were six feet back from the roof drip line and against the wall, we were soaked.

The newsagency closed its doors, and we were stuck for ten minutes as one of the most intense rain storms I've experienced in Perth drenched me while I sheltered Mum in a nook, my back from my neck down to my shoes being soaked to my skin, and all the while six feet in from the edge of the low roof line. Mum began to shake from shock, fear, and wetness, poor thing, the lightning immediately above continuously splitting the suburban sky, prematurely dark. I eventually shepherded her into the nearby chemist, where they let me get a chair for her, and I held her to comfort her. Mum kept saying she would fall ill from getting wet, and I kept assuring her that due to the heat this would not happen: this rain was warm, and the air was warm, the storm brought much latent heat from the heavens. I got her into the car some twenty minutes after this explosion of water, blinding light, and electricity from the skies, even though it was still raining, but the extra wetness we copped from this short excursion was of little import – we were already drenched, Mum less than than me, fortunately.

Missus Inkletter had remained in the car, and it was so dark she saw none of our plight, even though we were but twenty feet from her. Even she was scared by the buffeting the Suzuki sustained during the storm. We carefully drove the few kms back to Mum's unit at Melville, negotiating gloom, huge puddles, and chaotic traffic, and got Mum to her front door, where who should we find standing there but sister Helena, one of my two loving sisters, who was up from Broomehill this afternoon, some ten thousand miles southeast in the wheatbelt. So joy it was to see and hug her.

We ushered Mum inside, and she quickly dried herself and changed into her night garments, and even though I was drenched, I sat on a plastic bag on Mum's couch and with Missus Inkletter, the four of us chinwagged for well over an hour. I shared my wild idea with Helena, the one that I had back two or so weeks ago, and which we told Mum about shortly thereafter. So the the seeds are planted, as unlikely as it is truly to ripen in the form we've described. If anyone can catalyse an idea that has a shred of possibility, Helena can.

When we set off home, it was after 7, and naively I entered the Kwinana Freeway from Canning Highway heading north, only to find quickly it was a mistake, for the traffic was crawling all the way to the city centre. The huge puddles we encountered all the way to our home in the northern suburbs were testament to the fact that the city's drainage system is designed only for averages. Trees were down, and rubbish strewn everywhere. But wow, Perth's longest dry spell has broken, hallelujah!

Cadbury the tabby stray kitten spent half the evening till after midnight alternating between our laps while we watched our regular Aunty programs, including Four Corners, Q&A, Lateline, Lateline Business, and then Letterman on Ten. Just when I sat on the throne to do a poo, Missus Inkletter having retired an hour earlier with the door closed and the fans on, thus insulating the bedroom from noise, the mobile phone rang (our landline off the hook as per the usual procedure overnight in the interests of an undisturbed night's sleep), but I was at such a delicate stage of the evacuation procedure, that I had to let it ring out; when I finally was cleaned up and able to, I checked it, fearful it was The Dear Leader phoning in distress (as has happened dozens of times over the years), the whole reason we are forbidden ever to be away from this infernal mobble, but it was Baby Inkletter. I was worried also that she might be in distress, as has happened before, so I phoned her back to learn that she was unaware that it was so late! We had a chat about the day's wild storm, Cadbury, and an email joke we are playing on each other at the moment.

Back to Lateline: The (Leigh) Sales Graph: I couldn't believe it when I beheld Ms Sales interview David Letterman's mother! Or at least an amazing dead ringer in the form of the Brookings Institution's senior fellow in governance studies, Dr Thomas E. Mann! Ms Sales was turned out in a smart dark striped jacket contrasting with a white camisole, no jewellery but for tiny pearl earrings, subtle-effect make-up, and a most becoming slight variation of her hairstyle of late, loose and flaring, while Mrs Letterman, er… Mr Mann was smartly presented in a grey suit white shirt combo, a spotted maroon tie, and a blue rinse hair-do.

Their topic was the US health-care-reform bill which has just passed the House of Representative, and the discussion they had was informed helpfully for me by Ms Sales' brief discussion with Stephen Long just last Friday night about the bill. I enjoyed this interview, and Mr Mann is obviously close to the heartbeat of what's going on in the U.S.A. Government, and Ms Sales' questions were those of someone also following things there rather well. Frankly, keeping to a Letterman theme, I wouldn't give the U.S.A.'s problems to a monkey on a rock.

I got an email reply today from the Perth Observatory to my questions about the strange markings I saw crossing the crescent moon Friday evening:

From: Payton L. Inkletter [mailto: paytonlinkletter@gmail.com]

Sent: Saturday, 20 March 2010 1:09 AM

To: Observatory, Perth

Subject: Moon markings Friday evening 19th March

Hello friends

Between about 7.40 p.m. and 7.50 p.m. yesterday evening, Friday 19th, whilst driving west along Marshall and Beach Roads near Whiteman Park I witnessed some very dark geometrical and other shapes moving across the crescent moon, low on the western horizon.

I have never seen anything like this before, and I am certain it was not caused by clouds. Has anyone else asked you about this?

Was I imagining things?

Kindest regards ... Payton L. Inkletter

----- Original Message -----

From: Williams, Andrew

To: paytonlinkletter@gmail.com

Cc: Observatory, Perth

Sent: Monday, March 22, 2010 12:22 PM

Subject: RE: Moon markings Friday evening 19th March

The moving patterns you saw were almost certainly clouds, but very distant ones. The moon set at 8:04pm that night, so between the times you mentioned, any clouds in front of the moon would have been 10-20km away, much further than you would be able to see clouds normally unless they were fairly thick. Thin, wispy high level clouds at that distance would have been invisible, except as they passed in front of the moon.

Andrew

----- Original Message -----

From: Payton L. Inkletter [mailto: paytonlinkletter@gmail.com]

To: Williams, Andrew

Sent: Wednesday, March 24, 2010 2:37 AM

Subject: Re: Moon markings Friday evening 19th March

Hello Andrew

I appreciate you taking the trouble to reply to me, and given that an alternative to your reasonable explanation is that I was witnessing an alien space craft invasion of the moon and earth, I think it makes by far the better sense to accept your high cloud explanation!

It was certainly a fascinating sight the likes of which I've never experienced before in my 53 years, so if it was clouds, more power to them!

Kindest regards ... Payton L. Inkletter

+paytontedwithlove+

GINGDUCK: "The Big Coathanger made crossing Sydney Harbour a sight easier, but who knows it breathes, up to 7 inches up and down?" asks P.L. Inkletter

Be all that as it may, meanwhile:

'In other news…'

19^th March 2010

Friday: Warm and dry, it never ends…

I got myself ready for taking Bob swimming, making it the third time I will have seen him this week – a very rare occurrence, given my state of health and energy levels. I did get some bamboo watering done before leaving, and I'm heartened that at long last I've got a couple of giant shoots of the Bambusa oldhamii coming up, very late in the season, but the sight of them has done wonders for my horticulturally despairing soul, even if the impending coolness of autumn around the corner will cut short their quest for the heavens.

Bob enjoyed his time in the water at a busy Swan Aquatic, and at his insistence he stayed in the water half an hour longer than I planned for. We finished at dusk to dark at Fish Market Reserve, with a walk and cup of tea for the Bobster, a hot water for the moi.

On my drive home I saw something I cannot explain: it was between 7.40 to 7.50 p.m., and I first noticed something strange with the crescent moon hanging not far above the western horizon as I was travelling along from the eastern end of Marshall Road, Whiteman Park. Dark marks were slowly making their way across the face of the crescent moon, and between the trees and later the buildings in Malaga's industrial area I saw several more of the most unusual shapes, all dark or black, moving across the moon. One appeared to be a circle with circumferential cut outs near the edge. There were no clouds at all in the sky, or at least the western horizon area where I saw all this.

Maybe there is a simple explanation for what I saw, but I'd like to know what it is. On Monday, along the same stretch of Malaga, late in the day, I saw a little patch of cloud low on the western horizon, close to the sun which hadn't yet set, which had a smudge of rainbow colours in it; again, I have never seen anything like this before; it was all wrong to be a rainbow effect, for such would have to have been behind me on the eastern horizon, and an arch not a smudge.

Anyway, I emailed the Perth Observatory later in the evening about the moon effects, hoping they might have an explanation for me, or have heard from someone else. And no, I wasn't on anything.

The worn-out worsted yarn was too tired to walk, so I remained in front of the box, catching yet again Hitler's Bodyguard on SBS, and after Moving Wallpaper on Aunty it was time for Lateline: The (Leigh) Sales Graph: Ms Sales' appearance was gorgeous, if that's not too politically incorrect, from her loose flaring hairstyle which so suits her, to her subtle effect make-up and tiny earrings being the beginning and end of her jewellery, while her two federal level political sparring partners for tonight's Friday night fight club, ex-President of the Victorian Liberal Party Michael Kroger, as conservatively dressed as possible with his multiple variations upon dark shades, from his charcoal grey suit and dark blue tie to his light bluish-mauve shaded striped white shirt, and, known for his relative naiveté, National Secretary of the Australian Workers Union, Paul Howes, bedecked in a dark grey pinstriped suit, white shirt, and an impressive strongly tightly black on white striped tie.

Their topics of contention – and as predictable as all get out these boys were in their slants – were the federal health care debate and the elections in South Australia and Tasmania tomorrow, in which encumbent Labor governments have to face the music. I often find myself observing idiosyncrasies more than content when it gets boring, and this is no reflection upon Ms Sales, for she has little control over the pseudo-neuronal activity of the politically motivated puppets she has to interview as part of her job description. And so, what a revelation it was to behold a Mount Rushmore - like visage descend from the granite and join us from Melbourne: I'm speaking of the marvellously igneous features of Michael Kroger, for which I'm certain Gutzon Borglum would gladly resurrect to carve as a fifth stern and silent sentinel to sit beside George, Abraham, and the others. All the more starkly silhouetted against Paul Howes' Johnson & Johnson baby face soft features.

Now I have to say that a slip up from Paul Howes takes the cake tonight, when he said "bungee smuggling" in regard to Tony Abbott, when he meant 'budgie' (don't rely on the transcript on the ABC website, but listen to the vodcast); I think he paid an unintended compliment to the Opposition Leader there, for imagine (as a red-blooded bull koala I find it excruciating, by the way) a bungee rope stuffed down Mr Abbott's bathers!

Mr Kroger flirted with the possibility of Kevin Rudd's government being the first federal one in 80 years of being a one termer, and went on to relate that Rudd has no friends in the Labor Party, due to his unpleasant ways, which he earlier described thus: "The real Kevin Rudd is abusive, he swears at his staff, treats his ministers with contempt, is abusive of union leaders, abusive of his colleagues…"; it appears to me that Kroger's assessment is sadly closer to the truth than the starry-eyed Howes' adoration of his Dear Leader.

I give this interview to Mr Kroger, who spoke with more directness, pragmatism, and honesty than Mr Howes; on just a couple of points to illustrate this, his remarks around the paid parental leave scheme of Abbott demonstrated he is unafraid to put his own slightly contrary slant on it, and his comment "If you wanted to vote for what you thought were the party which would best deliver services you voted for state Labor…" concerning the Howard Government years.

Ms Sales handled the boys well; she is getting better at refereeing these boisterous encounters of antipathetic politically saturated organisms of the social undergrowth, giving them room for some rough and tumble but keeping them on short leashes when required.

Thankfully next it was Stephen Long: The (Stephen) Long and Short of It: tonight a smartly presented Mr Long, resplendent in his dark suit and white shirt combo set on fire with a burnt orange tie and freshly frowzled curly hair by his mum in the wings, turned his economic wisdom upon President Obama's healthcare reform package, at the invitation of a glowing Ms Sales.

Now what an indictment Mr Long gave on both the present healthcare system in the U.S.A., and Obama's reform! He highlighted one of the main structural problems as the vulturous private health insurers, who will remain at the core of the new system, if it passes into law. Mr Long's recommendation to focus more on preventative health measures based upon an Australian health system model made a lot of sense, as the man most always does.

I haven't yet revealed that this past week we have been sharing a goodly part of our evenings with a little stray guest, a tabby kitten we've named 'Cadbury', who appeared on our carport a couple of weeks ago, and which we began to feed. Baby Inkletter, who is a cat whisperer, managed to pick it up a few days back while offering it food in her hand, and now she – it's gender established by The Babe – comes to us in a mad rush just by calling out to her. She stretches out on our laps while we watch telly, and sleeps, purrs, plays, and generally behaves as though we are her pets.

Baby Inkletter began a Facebook page offering Cadbury to a good home, but independently a friend of hers, Jessi, has put her hand up to take her in a week or so. So while we'll miss the little creature, it is comforting to know she'll be going to a loving home.

+paytontedwithlove+

MOUNT CENIS: "I couldn't imagine a more boring activity, germane to turning one into a most uncivil engineer," P.L. Inkletter summarily drilled again.

Be all that as it may, meanwhile:

'In other news…'

15^th March 2010

Monday: Was it warm today? Well yes it was, but a damn sight better than Friday's roaster. I took Bob swimming again at Swan Aquatic, arriving considerably earlier than usual, but for a reason: so that I could join with Missus Inkletter and take out The Babies Ink&Peggletter to dinner for a celebration of her double graduation from UWA last week.

And so, spruced up to the 8s, we set off about seven p.m., and got to Leederville half an hour later, and we had to park in the council's usuriously expensive car park near the end of Oxford Street, for the street itself was packed out. Being of exceptionally modest means, we could not afford the top end of town, settling for Siena's upon Baby Inkletter's advice, and we ended up being so glad we did for this very rare type of outing for us.

The two and half hours we spent there were not only a treat due the conversation and fun banter we enjoyed with our darling daughter and her partner, but we supped on the tastiest Italian dishes imaginable, with the pasta sauces second to none, the pizza top quality, and the desserts rather wicked and delightful, all of us choosing varieties of gelati based creations. And to top it all off, the prices were very reasonable indeed.

We left there a little before ten, thanking the staff for their professional service and the tasty food, and we wrinklies joined The Babies nearby for a night time walk around the entire Lake Monger, and the fact that my darling wife made it with her foot drop and health problems was to her credit. We encountered several individuals and groups in the darkest section strangely enough, among the tunnelled overgrowth along the Mitchell Freeway side of the lake, some of whom looked like they might live in the lake during daylight hours. The temperature was balmy, and love was in the air, on the water with the nocturnal ornithological creatures, and on dry land with the Homo sapiens.

It was a special end to a special evening, and a lovely way to remember our daughter's quite outstanding achievement, all things considered, in earning her double degree, the ceremony for the awarding of which we attended last week.

I had recorded Lateline, and was able to watch it when we returned: The (Leigh) Sales Graph: Ms Sales had on a most entertaining and endearing guest, Professor Simon Schama, surely more camp that Gaddafi's tent!

Professor Schama was casually attired, and come to think of it, Ms Sales' attire was on the casual side as well, but as always she shone. They discussed the Obama Presidency for the majority of the interview, in a historical context. I have to admit that while much of the content of what they discussed was significant, I was spellbound by what appeared to be Graham Norton presenting a historian's analysis of the subject. You could turn the volume off and be spellbound by Professor Schama's gesticulations, his head movements, his elastic neck.

What was especially cute was the mimicking that began to occur by Ms Sales, whose own gesticulating when presenting her points and asking her questions began to increase in compass. Her questions were definitely informed, which made the payload for the thinking cohort of the audience high value, and gave the Professor ample opportunity to let his intellectual light shine. Few current affairs journalists put the hard yards into the research required to mine such guests to everyone's advantage as does Ms Sales.

Towards the end of their discussion, prompted by Ms Sales' suggestion that Professor Schama might be invited to write the history component of the new national curriculum if there is a change of government in Britain, the animated Professor became more alive, if that was possible, and the most charming exchanges occurred between them. Professor Schama asks Ms Sales if History is called 'Social Studies' here, and if you get the chance, watch the immediate next section of the vodcast at the ABC Lateline website, about 17 minutes and 40 seconds in, and see if you don't agree that Ms Sales' matchless smile comes not only from her mouth but also her eyes. Be sharp, for it's a grab about a mere two seconds long, but it will knock any red-blooded bull koala out of his gum tree.

All said and done, they clearly both thoroughly enjoyed themselves, with Ms Sales' legendary sparkling eyes and winning smile betraying her joy, and Professor Schama got to demonstrate his wit and wisdom most articulately, punctuated by his beaming countenance. Another treasured ABC current affairs interview now stored in my archive. Thank you Ms Sales, thank you Professor Schama, you gave us a treat and them some. And then there was their PRIVATE interview…

+paytontedwithlove+

PINETOWN: "Always give more than you promise," advises Payton L. Inkletter, as he cranked his Big Six Sheriff, hoping to dodge a future piercing arrow

Be all that as it may, meanwhile:

'In other news…'

12^th March 2010

Friday: The big heat, the big dry, on it rolls, there are four month old babies born in Perth who haven't run around in the rain yet…

Anyway, a mere 41 celsius was clocked up today, and the legendary toughness of Australia's flora is really being tested, and here and there I notice a newly dead eucalypt, and that's a concern.

A happy find was in our letterbox: 'Seduction by Design' had arrived, the second of Gladys Hobson's 'Awakening Love' trilogy.

I prepared for taking Bob swimming, and after taking the usual several hours to get to feeling capable of leaving, I set off for and got to Guildford not long after 3, which Bob, bless his soiled jocks, considered early. We arrived at a moderately busy Swan Aquatic, and although the humidity was low outside, the oven like heat made the indoor pool area like a giant sauna. We finished our time together down at Fish Market Reserve, with a walk along the river bank near dark followed by a cup of tea for Bob, and a cold cup of water for me, due to not being able to face the trauma of drinking anything hot. I was impressed with Bob's self control tonight, for he suggested he leave the crisps I bought him from the vending machine to eat later at home. The river bank had far more people lolling about, fishing, drinking, relaxing, recovering from the oppressive heat of the day past but not yet over.

It was after 8 when I made it home, and The Dear Leader and Missus Inkletter were fed and watered, watching Aunty's 'Sleuth 101'. The devoted Devonshire cream lovingly fed me, and then took The Dear Leader home. We watched 'Hitler's Bodyguard' on SBS, and instead of going for a walk with the shrinking violent, I watched the news on SBS, for the cautious cauldron had been told by her brother, Umple Dais, that he'd heard a police request that locals not walk at night for a while due to two knife point hold ups of local perambulators, within about a half and a whole kilometre of our house in the last couple of nights. I will encourage my wife to resume walking with me at night from tomorrow, for the sake of her health, and play down the problem; typical of all anti-social behaviour, it unduly punishes the majority. In my several years of walking alone after midnight locally I have had perhaps but three or four anxious moments, but a few dozen encounters where confidence carried the day such that anxiety did not arise.

I have a soft spot for Moving Wallpaper, despite its regular moments of over the top crudity, so Aunty won my next half hour, and in fact the half hour after that, and the half hour after that too: The Graham Norton Show had that iconic comedienne talent, Catherine Tate on board for his riotous brand of light relief, but that was after Lateline:

The (Leigh) Sales Graph: I say, that blue and white striped shirt that Ms Sales wore tonight, while being less formal than I think the program calls for, looked so good it more than made up for the rebelliousness it represented. She can look excellent with the most simple and minimalist effects, and tonight's combination, including as it did, (or didn't) but tiny earrings, subtle-effect make-up, and loose flaring hairstyle, was a fine piece of evidence. Her Friday night fight club was with a pair of federalis who front up fairly often, God bless their hair shirts, none less than Lindsay Tanner and Scott Morrison, both crisp, dark suited and white shirted, Mr Morrison going for a light grey tie, Mr Tanner opting for a gold model, his 19 strands of hair meticulously groomed to maximum effect. For the record, Mr Morrison doesn't look so well this year; maybe he is simply overtired.

Although, as mostly is usual, this interview had the pollies as predictable as all get out, nevertheless I enjoyed this stoush, in which Ms Sales gave them each enough rope to hang themselves several times. I'm glad Ms Sales got the boys to speak about Tony Abbott's paid parental leave scheme, which I think is an atrocious policy for several reasons, but I'm not against paid parental leave as such. Good on her for quoting Laura Tingle's assessment of the scheme: 'one of the most profoundly stupid, expensive, badly designed, philosophically incoherent policies recently inflicted on the public'.

And double good on her for tackling Mr Morrison with this rejoinder after one of his defenses of the reasonableness of the impost on big businesses: "OK, well, then if you follow that through logically, well, why don't we get these same big businesses to pay unemployment benefits in a time of economic downturn? Where does the buck stop for making big business carry the can?"

Mr Tanner had the easier task being on the anti side of the Opposition's parental leave scheme, and despite Mr Morrison's valiant attempts to put lipstick on the pig, his efforts failed miserably. The best he could do was call the scheme "fair dinkum", sounding so Sarah Palin.

Anyway, this interview had a few gems of wit, with Mr Morrison generating most of them: 'tiddler taxes'; 'it's a bit like a boa constrictor trying to digest the donkey'; 'everyone's keeping to their lines with the feigned looks of tension' – that one takes the cake tonight: thank you Mr Morrison, it was a corker; 'I hear the Prime Minister today squealing'; 'the Liberal Party's completely gone nuts'; 'this is just madness'.

Anyway, it was a breath of oxygen rich air when finally Stephen Long came on for his brief three minutes of economics glory: The (Stephen) Long and Short of It: as ever, Mr Long was immaculately presented, in a dark blue pinstriped suit, white shirt, and a tiny rectangular motifed ghostly gold tie, his hair quickly retamed after his mother tousled it in the make-up chamber. His wisdom tonight was lavished upon the report of the Examiner Anton R. Valukas, the Chairman of Jenner & Block, in Lehman Brothers Holdings bankruptcy.

What a sad tale it all is, and the problems that this over US$38 million report (which reviewed about 10 million pages) uncovered tragically are not unique by any means to this firm.

Ms Sales was so impressed with her professional soul mate's analysis that she declared that she thinks there could be a movie in all of this, and that Mr Long should write the script and make his fortune. I couldn't agree more. I have to wait another whole week to see the best pairing of journalists share their wit, wisdom, and chemistry: I can hardly wait.

+paytontedwithlove+