Janet Albrechtsen, and time for that sitcom Not Happy Janet?

We almost thought of passing over Janet Albrechtsen this week, because there's only so much tripe long suffering humanity can bear, and there's a huge amount of tripe on view in Don't blame sexism for the PM's woes.

Let's start with an obvious question. Would the ABC at any time during John Howard's time as a politician have contemplated a sitcom, perhaps with the title At Home With John, or perhaps At Home with John and Janet, or perhaps Liberal PM Married with Children, or perhaps Liberal Rock Far From the Sun, or perhaps $h*! My PM Says or Liberal Family Guy with talking dog or Australian PM Dad or Big Liberal Bang Theory?

Not really. They couldn't even get around to doing a proposed telemovie about Howard's defeat in the seat of Bennelong.

So what makes Julia Gillard such an easy target? How does she get to earn a four part sitcom At Home with Julia? Which doesn't pass muster as political satire, and which, by spending too much time with her private life (and that of her partner) certainly doesn't fit into the political satire that's been long running, whether done by Max Gillies or Rubbery Figures, or more recently by the musical about Keating.

The obvious answer is that she's a woman.

But obviousness is never apparent to the oblivious Albrechtsen.

Sexism again? Think again.

Tonight, our national broadcaster will air the second of a four-part comedy series called At Home with Julia. When the first episode screened last week, immediately we heard the whispering lament of sexism at work. The Prime Minister is being mocked and ridiculed because she is a woman. Alas, as with most claims of sexism used in the same sentence as Gillard, this one is also off the mark.

Alas, even the blindingly bleedingly obvious can never penetrate the ideologically thick skull of a conservative with a bee in bonnet about the evils of sexism. That's the evils of the term, not the evils of the practice.

Albrechtsen comes close to understanding:

Before it becomes part of the political orthodoxy, take a closer look at Aunty's new political sitcom. Described by Radio National's Fran Kelly as part of "the great tradition of Australian political satire", At Home with Julia is far less political than it is personal.

Uh huh. It has about as much connection to the great tradition of Australian political satire as that other great sitcom, My Name's John 'McGooley' Howard, What's Yours?

Naturally the ABC will insist it's political satire, but explain to me how the sight of a former hairdresser taking out the wheelie bins and copping a mocking from kids is political satire?

Back to Albrechtsen:

But it's certainly not sexist. The real problem is that the comedy invades a private space that even our most public figures deserve to keep to themselves.

Actually the real problem is that it was made, and why was it made, why was it contemplated, when no Australian male politician would have to put up with this kind of intrusion into private space?

The answer's obvious enough, it's just that Albrechtsen doesn't want to go through that gate.

Instead she wants to hare off after anyone else who has used the words 'sexist' or 'sexism' in relation to Gillard and coverage of Gillard, and truly, it's utterly tedious.

A rough equivalent would be hunting down any references to Obama as black, or semi-black, and pretending that his colour bears no weight in political discussions, or in political considerations.

Of course being a woman gets turned into part of the political discussion, as Margaret Thatcher showed when she turned it to her advantage, by proving she had more balls than the men around her.

And some will resort to colourful sexist language to make a point. Is there any doubt that Alan Jones knew exactly what he was saying, when routinely referring to Gillard as a lying bitch, and suggesting she should be stuck in a chaff bag and dumped at sea? (As recorded in Media Watch Personal or policy? You be the judge).

None of this is to suggest that Gillard is a wilting flower, a shy violet, or that she isn't above heading off to the women's magazines for a story and a cover for her political advantage.

Yet Albrechtsen won't have a bar of the bloody obvious:

There is a reason John Howard was not known in the electorate as John and it has nothing to do with gender or sexism.

Actually Howard was known universally as John in the 'Not happy John' phrase that echoed through his electorate and the land, but I guess that such things are best forgotten by a worshipful commentariat.

Neither does sexism explain ABC1's At Home with Julia.

Uh huh. But it might explain why the ABC contemplated making the monstrosity, why they thought they could get away with it, and why they thought they had a fresh angle.

Yet we seem to have reached a point where any strident commentary or even comic send-up of the PM is now sexist just because the PM is a woman. The national broadcaster's latest foray into political satire is hardly sexist when tested against the torrent of political send-ups aimed at former prime minister Howard. Count the weeks that comedy duo on the then 7.30 Report, John Clarke and Brian Dawe, aimed their Friday night fire at Howard. It became tiresomely predictable.

And there you have it.

No sooner than she's dismissed the ABC defence that the show is political satire, when it's deeply, obviously trading on the personal, albeit set in the Lodge, than straight away, for the sake of her argument, Albrechtsen embraces the ABC notion that it is in fact a foray into political satire ...

The show in fact bears absolutely no relationship, in styling or in genre, to the satirical outings of Clarke and Dawe, who never dressed up and pretended to be John and Janet, and I'd love for Albrechtsen to provide evidence that somehow their comedy routines involved some kind of sexism aimed at John Howard ...

Strike me pink, set fire to the black stump, has Albrechtsen no idea of rhetorical absurdity?

And then for a moment it seems as if Albrechtsen might begin to understand:

What marks out At Home with Julia as different from previous satires is that it intrudes into a private arena that is, to be blunt, none of our business. By focusing its lens, even a comical one, on the private lives of Gillard and her partner, Tim Mathieson, the show crosses the privacy line. Even politicians are entitled to a private life and the partners of politicians are especially entitled to be spared such intrusions.

Yes, and why - you have to repeat these sorts of ideas over and over to dunderheads - did the ABC think they could get away with this kind of show, why would Gillard have to smile and wear it, why have we never copped the Paul Keating Divorces His Wife sitcom?

Satirising private moments between "Jugs" and "Teacup" may amuse some by exploiting our natural inclination to treat comedy as just that. Inevitably, critics will be seen as humourless killjoys. In fact, the ABC's At Home with Julia is not a clever political satire in the league of the BBC's 1980s classic Yes, Minister and later, Yes, Prime Minister. That series was clever because it was generic. Parodying the political class as a whole, the British sitcom will stand the test of time.

Yes, yes, that's it. A clever sitcom about the political and bureaucratic ruling elite is always a good target, provided you have clever scripts and good actors comfortable in their roles, neither to hand in At Home With Julia.

You know, by the end of her piece, Albrechtsen is almost dying to use the word sexist, but she can't bring herself to it. You know what they say about horses and the commentariat and water:

By contrast, by poking its nose into even a fictional lounge room of Gillard and Mathieson, At Home with Julia is a series of short-term gags that offends an important principle best described by former PM Paul Keating.

Speaking at the Centre for Advanced Journalism at the University of Melbourne last year about privacy and the media, Keating said "the social contract we are subject to involves the surrender of certain rights in exchange for other societal benefits and protections. But at the core of that contract there must never be derogations such that the notion of individuality is materially or permanently compromised. The essence of the dignity of each of us goes to our individuality and our primary need to be ourselves."

Yep, it infringes on privacy, but why is Gillard the first to cop it sweet in this way?

Well you can get away with it with Gillard because she's a woman, and she just has to grin and bear it, and show what a terribly good sport she is, like the waitress is supposed to think a pinch on the bum is just a sign of mateship, and the bar maid is supposed to smile as the ten - or the one - schooner client goes the grope (no, I'm not bitter).

You see, it's all because Gillard, by trawling and smirking and smiling, has asked for it. The brazen hussy has invited it. The damn sitcom is all her fault:

Yet, even here, one has to ask, have our politicians, particularly Gillard, invited the intrusion that breaches a contract that should allow politicians to be themselves away from prying, prurient eyes?

Oh yes, put her in a niqab, the damn cheap bit of raw uncovered meat is just inviting sitcom writers to eye her off.

From dressing up for a glossy spread in Women's Weekly to giggling for the 60 Minutes cameras outside Mathieson's shed at the Lodge, Gillard has encouraged a level of voyeurism into her private life that does nothing to educate or inform us about the things that really matter. Gillard is not alone here. By trying to manage the media with carefully controlled puff pieces about their private lives, politicians invariably fuel intrusions that may not be so carefully controlled.

Yep, Gillard has encouraged a level of voyeurism that makes sitcom writers slobber at the mouth. You know, she has a funny accent, and she's short and she waddles as she walks, and she streaks her hair and she lives with a former hairdresser. Hilaaarious. It's all her fault we look at her in fascination instead of thinking about policies ...

The funniest thing? Somehow Albrechtsen manages to suggest that all politicians invariably fuel intrusions, and yet somehow male politicians in Australia have thus far managed to avoid a sitcom making fun of their private lives.

Why might that be? When can we look forward to Tony Blair, Cherie, the diet tea seller, and the bombing of Iraq, full of hundreds of jokes and thousands of corpses?

And therein lies the reason the ABC is now screening At Home with Julia. If you invite the cameras into your private life, don't be surprised when the cameras also appear without an invitation. The shame is that our politicians are not more careful to guard their privacy. We might respect them more if they did.

The real shame? That someone could pen such nonsense in the name of commentary.

The ideological blinkers, the utter detestation of feminism that courses through Albrechtsen, whereby she must invent explanations for the bleeding obvious, no matter that the bleeding obvious is smacking her about the chops.

Well let's hope that, if the Liberals get into office, we're spared At Home with Bronnie in Mosman Kingswood Country, or Hey Sophie!, a whimsical insight into Sophie Mirabella's rural lifestyle.

Because after all, Bronnie and Sophie are just asking for it, being female politicians, and they shouldn't be surprised the ABC is just rearing to go with the cameras, because let's face it, female politicians, heck politicians in general routinely expose themselves like fresh meat to the media, and so bring out the voyeur in all of us. How shameful they are.

Of course those shows will have to be after the ABC finishes off the 26 eps of How I Met Your Father Tony, and Barnaby and the New England Hillbillies ...

Bring on a media enquiry, bring it on now, and can we have as the first item the perverse stupidity of the commentariat ...

(Below: for once we lean out the window with Peter Costello, found at the NMA).