Gerard Henderson, and yet another dose of a Gradgrind with a bee in his bonnet ...

Tory Maguire struggling to understand Kyle Sandilands in No wonder our politicians treat us like we're stupid:

He’s not an idiot, but he clearly thinks his listeners are. Yet one million of them continue to tune in.

Sheesh Tory, that's because they're idiots. Ijeets to you.

We complain constantly that politicians treat voters like they’re stupid. Considering how so many of us a prepared to pretend we are, you can hardly blame them.

Maybe that's because the best way to pretend they're stupid is to read The Punch, Australia's dumbest conversation? How dumb is it to try to make sense of Kyle Sandilands?

Phew, now that's been sorted, we can attend to our regular weekly sermon from our very own antipodean Reverend Stiggins, the honourable Gerard Henderson, deputy Liberal shepherd from the Phillip street branch of the inner city chardonnay swilling chattering members of the Association of Grand United Order of pontificating poobahs, commonly known as the Sydney Institute (with apologies to Dickens and as a variation, since calling this scribe a prattling Polonius is as tiresome as repeated reminders of the fearful awfulness of a great big new tax, or alarums sounding about a bunker in Ultimo full of cardigan wearers, when usually it's full of visiting commentariat commentators ready to vent their spleen and drop their bile).

Wow, that's an elaborate introduction, so what's Mr Henderson got for us today that'll live up to the sell job?

Oh Magoo you've done it again, in Labor top of the list misjudging Abbott:

You see, you can always rely on the Pecksniffian, Gradgrindian Henderson to deliver a few lines like this:

The view that Abbott is unelectable reflects the mindset of the secular inner-city intelligentsia and finds expression among some journalists.

Dear long absent lord, has the man got a bee in his bonnet, or what. Which reminds me of that delightful, possibly Scottish phrase, and its explanation here in the excellent Phrase Finder:

This phrase clearly alludes to the state of agitation one would be in when finding a bee inside one's bonnet. It follows on from the earlier expression - 'to have bees in one's head', which had much the same meaning. This is recorded from the 16th century, for example, in Alexander Douglas's Aeneis, 1513:

Quhat bern be thou in bed with heid full of beis?

Beekeepers have always worn protective headgear when working with bees and it is possible, although entirely speculative, that the bonnet refers to this.

The first citation of 'bee in his bonnet' in print that I have found is the Reverend Philip Doddridge's Letters, 1790:

"I suppose you have heard of Mr. Coward's pranks. He has, as the Scotch call it, a Bee in his Bonnet."

Yes, the English language is always more interesting than Henderson.

Of course each time that Henderson launches a sally at secular inner-city intelligentsia and ABC journalists, the pond regularly remembers that Henderson is a member of an inner-city based intelligentsia and elite that bungs on high minded affairs, where the chardonnay, or similar, flows like sweet tasting nectar (as might be expected of a John Howard lover who remembers the man's fondness for reds and draining the taxpayer-funded cellar).

Why if you rush off tonight you can hear Kate Jennings and Shelley Gare, explaining the art of sticking your heard above the parapet, only to have Henderson take pot shots at it - but remember that will require you to head into the inner city and mingle with the inner-city intelligentsia.

If that's not to your taste, why shortly there'll be David Gonski and Elizabeth Broderick doing board representation balancing the gender mix, and next week David Marr and Nicholas Stuart doing over the Rudd Prime Ministership, and so on and on (it's all here), and if the pond happened to be a member of the inner city elite and intelligentsia, what a delight it would be to trot off and mingle and drop bon mots, and perhaps a little Francais, because you know one can ...

What's worse, we've just given the Sydney Institute a free plug, and the way we carry on makes it sound as if we have a bee in our bonnet.

Let's get back to Henderson's bees and their ever so predictable buzzing, which as usual involves the petulant stance of a young lad in shorts saying "it's just not fair, you're never fair and balanced like I am, which is to say that Tony Abbott is wonderful and masterful and a real challenger, and should win, and the only thing that's stopping him is the intelligentsia and the media, and in particular, secularists, and ... (here a stamp of the feet and a petulant pout) ... it's just not fair."

There is a pervading view Australians, particularly women, will not vote for a party led by a social conservative who declares himself to be an imperfect Catholic. This was very much the theme of Liz Jackson's Four Corners profile of Abbott in March. Even Manne acknowledged this was "the left-wing version" of the Opposition Leader. So far ABC TV has not aired a similar program on Gillard, where she is subject to cross-examination about her words and deeds of some three decades ago.

Ah yes, it's just not fair. What we need is a cross-examination of the words and deeds of what everyone said and did some three decades ago. And instead of doing a profile of Tony Abbott, why the ABC should simply ignore the Liberal party and stick to its natural turf.

Why, for example are there so few programs about the manufacture of cardigans? Why isn't the 7.30 Report replaced, now that they have a news channel for such dross, with an educational program for knitters, or perhaps a program aimed at cat lovers?

I'm sure the Enmore based Cat Protection Society, our local jewel in the crown for oldies anxious to save the cats - won't someone think of the cats as well as the children - would only be too happy to help improve and enhance the ABC's programming. (But won't someone think of the birds, and the parrots munching at the moment on cherry blossoms?)

Never mind, cats and the Scottish contribution to the English language are so much more amusing than Henderson. How's he going now?

It would be foolish to predict the election outcome.

That's it? If you started at the beginning - I couldn't be bothered - you would have copped Henderson doing over Bruce Hawker and (oh spare the predictability of it all) the likes of Robert Manne and Hugh Mackay.

Given the peculiar Henderson mindset, this was about as useful and meaningful as a coach for a rival team going over the weaknesses in the Sea Eagles rugby league line up (insert other detested teams such as Collingwood or the Crows to make this metaphor meaningful anywhere).

Yet when it comes down to it, all Henderson can do is put is elbow in the water and pronounce it ... well, it would be foolish to predict the actual temperature of the water.

Not to worry. We're dealing with bees in the bonnet, and here's a classic statement of the ongoing, perpetual motion, never ending conservative Henderson bee in the bonnet relating to the quite rough hewn and disturbing outer reaches of society, where there be dragons:

But the evidence suggests Abbott has a certain appeal among lower-socio-economic groups in the outer suburbs and regional centres where life is quite tough and long-term and youth unemployment disturbingly high. Outside the inner city, Abbott's social conservatism is not a reason for sneering - since most Australians are conservatively inclined.

But what does this actually mean? Does it mean Australians are socially conservative? As in finding homosexuals threatening? Or are they economically conservative? Do they care about climate change? Were they disappointed that Rudd dropped this particular bundle? Is it possibly to be so comprehensively stupid as to make such a bland blanket statement as "since most Australians are conservatively inclined", and think it actually means anything at all?

Well of course the point is as always political, and that requires an absolution of Tony Abbott:

It makes sense for Gillard to be Gillard. Yet this necessarily has come about because Abbott insisted on being Abbott, irrespective of those who dismissed him as a fanatical "Captain Catholic". As a Howard government minister, Abbott did not seek to change the abortion laws and he was not the driver of the Work Choices legislation.

You see. He's a clean skin. Nothing to do with him, and a perfectly safe pair of hands. He won't drop the ball.

But, but, but. ... if Australians are conservatively inclined, why should they care a whit or a jot about whether Abbott wanted to, or will seek to change the abortion laws?

Surely as social conservatives, they should be right on board, demanding the end to abortion, and a return to the good old days in the nineteen fifties of backyard abortions with coat hangers. Like the Catholic church ...

Or is Henderson simply talking through his pompous backside?

Because you could apply the same logic to Work Choices.

If Australians were economically dry conservatives, they should be right on board with Work Choices, demanding that the labour market be freed up, and everyone allowed the right to work for a pittance, so business can match the Chinese factory system, and flood the world with dinkum Aussie two dollar boomerangs ... (and watch out it doesn't come back to hit you in the head).

Or help out Henderson in getting young things to work for retail chains for three fifths of fuck all, serving up rubbishy food and other rubbishy junk made in our own dinkum sweat shops ...

On the other hand, you could, if you were so inclined, make a case that the larrikin myth of Australia is quite liberal and perhaps even a tad socialist (see Ward's The Australian Legend), and that there's a knockabout "I'll take you as I find you and as you do by me I'll do by you" aspect to the culture, with an open dislike for wowsers and Methodists and Mother Grundys and tosspot wankers. Only however if you were inclined like Henderson to sweeping generalisations to support your own particular, biased world view ...

But okay I'll bite, who or what is Tony Abbott:

He is a pragmatic politician with certain convictions.

With certain convictions?

Well that's as tidy a phrase as the celebrated "economical with the truth" and it takes Henderson to the top for evasive non sequiturs. Certain convictions? Well it gave me a hearty chortle, and that's a fact.

With this kind of form, our man could easily take out the 'gherkin of the week' award, but can we just - for the moment - settle for calling him a prattling Polonius.

And how does our Polonius call the election?

Which is why Labor is concerned about losing office on August 21.

Yes, the man doesn't even have the balls to barrack for his team, and say Abbott is certain to win the election. You know, rah rah, come on Tony, you can do it. No, it's Labor is concerned about losing.

Tragic. Talk about a stick in the mud. You know, the more we read Henderson here at the pond, we come to the conclusion he's an inner city intelligentsia wanker ...

And now, since it's been a while, and since we regret each day that Charles Dickens isn't around to do over Henderson proper-like, give that steaming kettle a right royal polishing, here's Dickens doing Gradgrind:

"Now, what I want is, Facts. Teach these boys and girls nothing but Facts. Facts alone are wanted in life. Plant nothing else, and root out everything else. You can only form the minds of reasoning animals upon Facts: nothing else will ever be of any service to them. This is the principle on which I bring up my own children, and this is the principle on which I bring up these children. Stick to Facts, sir!" The scene was a plain, bare, monotonous vault of a schoolroom, and the speaker's square forefinger emphasized his observations by underscoring every sentence with a line on the schoolmaster's sleeve. The emphasis was helped by the speaker's square wall of a forehead, which had his eyebrows for its base, while his eyes found commodious cellarage in two dark caves, overshadowed by the wall. The emphasis was helped by the speaker's mouth, which was wide, thin, and hard set. The emphasis was helped by the speaker's voice, which was inflexible, dry, and dictatorial. The emphasis was helped by the speaker's hair, which bristled on the skirts of his bald head, a plantation of firs to keep the wind from its shining surface, all covered with knobs, like the crust of a plum pie, as if the head had scarcely ware-house-room for the hard facts stored inside. The speaker's obstinate carriage, square coat, square legs, square shoulders,-nay, his very neckcloth, trained to take him by the throat with an unaccommodat-ing grasp, like a stubborn fact, as it was,-all helped the emphasis. "In this life, we want nothing but Facts, sir; nothing but Facts!" The speaker, and the schoolmaster, and the third grown person present, all backed a little, and swept with their eyes the inclined plane of little vessels then and there arranged in order, ready to have imperial gallons of facts poured into them until they were full to the brim.

.... THOMAS GRADGRIND, sir. A man of realities. A man of facts and calculations. A man who proceeds upon the principle that two and two are four, and nothing over, and who is not to be talked into allowing for anything over. Thomas Gradgrind, sir-peremptorily Thomas-Thomas Gradgrind. With a rule and a pair of scales, and the multiplication table always in his pocket, sir, ready to weigh and measure any parcel of human nature, and tell you exactly what it comes to. It is a mere question of figures, a case of simple arithmetic. You might hope to get some other nonsensical belief into the head of George Gradgrind, or Augustus Gradgrind, or John Gradgrind, or Joseph Gradgrind (all supposititious, non-existent persons), but into the head of Thomas Gradgrind-no, sir !

(Below: by golly that chappie looks just like the sort of chappie who'd be right at home in the Sydney Institute).