The moment Ellen Kassel asked how to describe Column 8 to overseas friends (C8) it was apparent the feedback would be copious. So we’re delivering them in short, sharp shots. Here goes: “Intelligent humour and wit” – Garry Thomas from Oatlands; “God’s waiting room for failed authors and comedians” – John Kouvelis of Neutral Bay; “Quirky, quaint, quick, queer … and Queenslanders!” – Mary G. Clarke of Mount Gravatt (Qld); “A daily snapshot of Australian civic life – tiny acts of wit, stubbornness, bureaucracy and accidental poetry, curated with a straight face and a wicked eye” – Serge Nemaz of Illawong; and “A spontaneous sprint inside a random person’s head while simultaneously wondering why on earth you’re there, where to leave your initials, and what time you’ll be back tomorrow” – Suzanne Saunders of Wadeville.
The acclamation from John Whiteing of Willoughby was even more laudatory: “Column 8 is the Herald’s daily temple of trifles, where readers compete for the fleeting, absurd immortality of seeing their pedantry, whimsy or perfectly timed curmudgeonly observation enshrined in newsprint, earning – briefly, gloriously, and to no material benefit whatsoever – the highest honour Australian journalism can bestow.”
“Eric Scott (C8) may have to modify his ‘when the Queen drinks out of a bottle’ beer-drinking protocol as Queen Camilla strikes me as a six-pack stubby imbiber,” offers Kerry Kyriacou of Strathfield.
Some trophies (C8) are just too unique to hand over to The Donald. Mary Billing of Allambie Heights knows of one: “My husband has a medal for winning 100 yards butterfly at the Wimbledon Swimming Club championship, a record that will never be broken as they went metric that year. Trump ain’t getting it.”
“At my school in the 1970s, if you got 10 wickets in a cricket match you would receive the ball mounted on a stand with a plaque denoting the details,” recalls Mark Morgan of Palmwoods (Qld). “After getting a 10-for, I duly left the ball with the details written on a piece of paper on the cricket master’s desk. Some clown must have ‘got-ten’ to the piece of paper because when I received the mounted ball, the plaque said the bowler was ‘Mark Moron’. I didn’t keep the trophy, although I now wish I had.”
“Oh yes, Ann Clydesdale (C8), there is another type of manure,” says Wayne Duncombe of Lilyfield. “It’s called ‘pollie-speak’. It’s pure, but not organic.”
Column8@smh.com.au
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