Showing posts with label Culture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Culture. Show all posts

The Digger’s Code: Anzac Day and the Vernacular of Belonging

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Stand with your mates old and new. Reclaim the one nation the Anzacs fought to defend. 

As we pause this Anzac Day to remember the fallen and their mates, spare a thought for our native language that few outsiders ever fully master. It is not the formal speech of the silvertails with their airs and graces. It is the laconic ‘Diggerspeak’ that binds Australian servicemen and women tighter than any oath. It entered our military from regional and rural Australia, and it went back and forth from navvie to digger and continues to do so. It is an evolving language that reflects our deep-seated sense of nationhood.

The rhyming slang, the ironic understatement, the rural shorthand and the deadpan inversions turned ordinary blokes into a code. The enemy and even our closest allies struggled to crack it. In the jungles of New Guinea or the paddy fields of Vietnam, it was not just talk. It was a language of belonging.

The Yanks noticed early. By 1942 the US Department of War and the Navy were issuing pocket guides to Australia. These guides were crammed with glossaries of our slang. Their troops kept staring blankly when an Aussie said something was fair dinkum or that the situation was apples. She’ll be right. The guides were well-meaning. They missed the point.

The real test was not whether you could look it up. The real test was whether you got it without asking. Pause to ask for clarification in the heat of the moment, and you quietly announced yourself an outsider. Aussies are not unwelcoming. Far from it. True mateship assumes a shared frame of reference. You do not need to be born here. You just need to be willing to learn the code and live it.

Australian slang has always been a living thing. It evolves with each new trial. What began in the trenches of the Great War absorbed French, Arabic, Vietnamese, and Malaysian influences. (I don’t know how many times I had to diddly-bop off for some makan.)

The language keeps mutating. A bludger in one war became a walloper in the next. In my time it was a Jack-man. She’ll be right carried the same laconic optimism. (Politely put, a Jack-man says: ‘She’ll be right, Jack, I’m okay!) The language is derived from shared challenges, hardships, and best of all, shared glory. The code adapts. Its purpose never changes. It marks those who belong.

The evolutionary nature of the Australian vernacular goes something like this. I remember at Duntroon a particular word came to be used when something was excellently cool. As legend has it, later this word happened to be the surname of a fourthie who was regarded as a complete quamby. He kept getting bumphed ‘cause his work was NUTS. His mates ended up sharing his pineapples. So the word went from being excellently cool to something that was completely bished, if you get what I mean.

It’s not just in the military. In many of the store docks I deliver to, there exists a language of belonging. I learnt quickly not to say, ‘good morning’. What’s bloody good about it? Next time, Morning! At least you didn’t say good, this place is a loony bin. You’ll be lucky if you get out. Hey Chezza, did you tell him he lives here now? This place is awesome! (I wish I could provide the appropriate onomatopoeia for the quiet guttural groan accompanying the bewildered facial expressions.)

I doubt many of my academic and journalist mates could understand Australian like this. In many eyes, modern academics and journalists don’t belong in such places.

Even my good mate from Pakistan. He’s completing a degree in English. He’s working at a servo and a bloke walks in. ‘Packeta Winnie Blues Mate.’ He recalls fondly the process of becoming Aussie. It took him a while, but he got there. Loves his cricket and his snooker, too. And he’s a toiler.

And that’s the point. Australian slang is a language of belonging. A language forged out of our history through shared hardship and a sense of knowing what we’re all about. You can’t learn it. You have to live it.

That same code echoes every Anzac Day. At dawn services from Gallipoli to Kokoda to the local RSL. You hear it still. The wry asides. The understatement that masks profound respect. The easy familiarity turns strangers into cobbers for a day. If you can’t understand the lingo, you won’t get the stories, either.

The stories of the Owen gun’s legendary performance, or the corporal instructor who gives lessons on the Owen’s successor, the F1 submachine gun: ‘The F1 submachine gun can be fitted with a bayonet and used as a dart’ as he throws it into a nearby tree. The yippee shoots. The forced marches where some bloke pulls up from plantar fasciitis. Only it was a piece of wire gone through his GP and into his foot.

The legendary free grog at the boozer then woken at 3am for a forced march. The bloke who did it in his Reg Grundies while smoking a dart. The dargon leading the run who lights up his own darb under the cover of the palm of his hand. He breathes in deeply. Ah, that’s bet-ter! He says in his clipped, guttural, side-of-the-mouth enunciation.

Or the day our Colonel Commandant turns up on the gun position. I’ve taken over the gun position mid-ex from one of my fourthies who was NUTS. And Davo’s left his cam net back at the last position, and he can’t use his platform ‘cause he’s busted the legs on it. The Colonel asks me, ‘where is that gun’s cam net?’ A UD goes off in the CP just as my OPCP SGT starts shooting. I groan. Test-firing, Sir. Johnno’s Bravo crew is up cause Davo’s doin’ his ‘nana at the Alpha boys who have to go back and get the cam net. Karrumpah! Johnno’s gun sends down the first bomb. The dry grass lights up and the entire gun position is on fire. Who’s got the rakes and beaters? I groan again. I look over at my OPCP SGT and he smirks wryly and shrugs. FUBAR. What can ya do, boss? ‘Ere are, I’ve rolled ya a darb, and the lads grabbed a goffer and a gumpy for ya. God bless him.

It is the vernacular of belonging. It says we have been through the fire together. We know the score. We stand shoulder to shoulder anyway. Anzac Day does not demand uniformity of background. It demands unity of spirit. That spirit has always been more powerful than any official policy or government-sanctioned school curriculum.

Which makes the present moment feel particularly sharp. Decades of mass immigration without a corresponding insistence on cultural integration have left too many newcomers unwilling or unable to learn the code. Their cheer squads in the academy and the media make the problem worse. Some arrive in a nation that offers them every material advantage. They then treat its founding myths, its institutions and its very language of mateship as relics to be deconstructed rather than embraced. Decolonised, if you will.

The result is not the vibrant mosaic we were promised. It is parallel societies, simmering resentments, and a fracturing of the very sense of us that Anzac Day once renewed so effortlessly.

Worse. Those divisions have been actively cultivated. Outsiders to our national story and the domestic elites who amplify their grievances have worked systematically to undermine the institutions that once transmitted the Anzac ethos. The schools once taught pride in our military history. The media once celebrated it. The public square once honoured it without apology. The campaign has relentlessly targeted our shared identity. That identity transcends class, ethnicity, or postcode. When that identity frays, social cohesion frays with it.

No wonder Australians are looking outside the major parties. In the latest Sky News Pulse survey, Pauline Hanson’s One Nation has surged to level pegging with Labor on the primary vote at 27 per cent. This is a remarkable shift. It reflects deep disillusionment with the major parties’ failure to defend the things that make Australia work.

Even Prime Minister Anthony Albanese has reached for the language of one nation in his rhetoric. His government’s approach has too often amplified the very divisions that erode it. One Nation’s appeal is not narrow ethnic nationalism as its critics sneer. It is precisely the opposite. It is the insistence on one nation. Belonging is available to anyone prepared to adopt the values. It includes the work ethic, the fair go egalitarianism, and even the lingo that has defined us since before the trenches of the Great War. It is the Anzac spirit translated into contemporary politics.

That is why a return to the Anzac ethos is not nostalgia. It is remedy. It is not about excluding newcomers. Many Diggers were sons of immigrants. It is by insisting that those who come here join the code rather than rewrite it. The willingness to belong is what separates the citizen from the passenger. Anzac Day reminds us that belonging is earned in the quiet moments. It is the shared joke no outsider quite catches. It is the understatement that carries the weight of history. It is the instinctive understanding that she’ll be right only works when everyone is pulling in the same direction.

So today, as the last post sounds and the crowd murmurs Lest We Forget, listen for the deeper message beneath the words. It is an invitation. Learn the code. Embrace the spirit. Stand with your mates old and new. Reclaim the one nation the Anzacs fought to defend. The alternative is not diversity. It is division. And Australia has had quite enough of that.

 This article first appeared in The Spectator Australia on Anzac Day 2026 as The Digger’s Code: Anzac Day and the Vernacular of Belonging.

Dob in a servo? How very un-Australian

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We would be far better off with a ‘dob in a useless politician’ scheme.

The NSW Labor government has found a new way to distract us from its own failures. It is encouraging the public to ‘dob in’ service stations charging what it considers ‘high’ prices for fuel.

In a move straight out of the Covid-era snitch handbook, motorists are being urged to report servos via the FuelCheck app for alleged price gouging. This is not a tough-on-business policy. It is the politics of incompetent governance dressed up as consumer protection.

And it is utterly un-Australian.

My latest in The Spectator Australia, Dob in a servo? How very un-Australian.

Our youth are impressionable, but not stupid

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The Age of Woke is over and young people know they were lied to...

Let’s be honest. Australia’s young people have been marinated in Woke ideology from the cradle to the doctorate. From childcare centres, where toddlers learn about ‘gender fluidity’ before they can tie their shoelaces, through school curricula that treats Western Civilisation as an original sin, to university faculties that reward grievance studies over rigorous inquiry.

The left has had a captive audience for decades. They’ve been told that feelings trump facts, that capitalism is the root of all evil, and that the only moral posture worth striking is performative outrage. Impressionable? Absolutely. Stupid? Not even close.

The proof is in the polling.

My latest in The Spectator Australia, Our youth are impressionable, but not stupid.

ABC staff chuck a tantrum while taxpayers foot the bill

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The ABC should remember that when you’re bankrolled by the punters, it’s not a strike, it’s a tantrum.

From Hong Kong: While the rest of Australia is doing it tough under Labor’s cost-of-living catastrophe, state-owned media, the ABC, has staged its first strike in 20 years.

People forget that unions love striking when Labor is in power. Other governments are reluctant to give in to their selfish demands. But demanding more of your hard-earned cash to keep pumping out one-sided political sludge is, to quote my country mates, bull.

Apparently, the ABC even called in the BBC to fill in for them. Talk about a WOFTAM.

My latest in The Spectator Australia, ABC staff chuck a tantrum while taxpayers foot the bill.

Who gives a toss about Kyle and Jackie O?

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Kyle and Jackie O's Radio Royalty fallout is the quintessential binfire. 

This week the news cycle has been dominated by the spectacular implosion of Australia’s highest-paid radio duo, Kyle Sandilands and Jackie ‘O’ Henderson.

After more than two decades of on-air banter, celebrity interviews, and the occasional boundary-pushing stunt, their partnership ended (perhaps) in a blaze of recriminations, contract terminations, and a reported $200 million deal gone up in smoke. Jackie O has walked, Kyle has been suspended, and the KIIS FM breakfast show looks like it is off the air effective immediately.

And yet, today, as I experienced my first heavy vehicle food delivery job from Yass via Temora, listening to ABC Radio doing its best to recruit ‘future Wokerati’, I wondered if ‘I’ was the only person in the country who genuinely doesn’t give a toss about ‘K’ and ‘O’?

Writng in Unfiltered, Alexandra Marshall was unapologetic:

I hate our Canberra correspondent, Michael de Percy. I rang him this afternoon to tell him as much. He was terribly pleased by the news. Let me explain. While the world teeters on the edge of hot war between empires, Michael was being vexed by the endless Kyle and Jackie O coverage on his local regional radio. Print media is just as bad. A full two-thirds of the Daily Mail was devoted to the saga (instead of … you know … world war three). And so he wrote a piece for me about how pointless Kyle and Jackie O are to our society, asking, ‘Does anyone actually care?’ Google picked this up and instantly his rant about two vacuous radio presenters became the top trending piece. It’s infuriating. And I hate him. That said, the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. Humans are ruthlessly social creatures. Even on the day Hitler died, the front page was shared with celebrity gossip. Maybe it’s a good thing that our species always carves out room for entertainment. Or maybe Michael is right.

Terry Barnes was less direct in Morning Double Shot:

Now for what really matters. Kyle Sandilands and Jacki ‘O’ Henderson have busted up spectacularly, and hopefully their brand of broadcast filth is at an end. Michael de Percy asks who cares, and answers: nobody. Speaking of de Percy, he’s written a cracker chapter in a new book, The Menzies Legacy, which I plan to review shortly.

My latest in The Spectator Australia, Who gives a toss about Kyle and Jackie O?

God, King, and Country: British identity and the Australian Defence Force

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My great-grandfather, my grandfather, me, and my son all wore our country's uniform.

Speech at 'Menzies and the British Commonwealth of Nations', Robert Menzies Institute Conference at the University of Melbourne, 28th November 2025.

"God, King, and Country" is an intriguing concept. As a political scientist, my approach tends to be historical institutionalism, focusing on legacies and how they inform policy choices in the present, as well as elements like continuity, disruption, and often serendipity.

In terms of serendipity, it's notable that Lord Kitchener was invited to Australia by Prime Minister Alfred Deakin to report on the Australian land defence forces, specifically the Australian Army. At the time, there was controversy over whether it should have been Lord Fisher to review the Navy, which might have made more strategic sense. As it happened, Kitchener arrived in 1909 and stayed until 1910. He travelled extensively throughout Australia, visiting places like Seymour, Darwin, Townsville, and elsewhere. He was greeted with great fanfare; the country folk particularly admired this war hero, known as Kitchener of Khartoum. Kitchener, of course, became the face of the First World War recruitment campaign. Eliza and I discussed this last night, noting how Uncle Sam is a fictional character, whereas Kitchener was a real, living hero. He was often criticised for sending many young men from British country towns to their deaths. In any case, Kitchener advised the formation of the Royal Military College Duntroon, which was established in 1911 along the lines of Sandhurst in the UK. It was quite natural that British identity would form part of the early institutions of the Australian Army in particular, and the military more generally. Kitchener remarked that Australians were natural soldiers.

I probably won't offer any groundbreaking theoretical contributions today, but one thing that stands out for me is my personal connection: I am one of four generations in my family who served in the Australian Army—my great-grandfather, my grandfather, myself, and my son. The Australian Army has been part of our family history for a very long time, and it feels entirely natural. As a teenager, I had the Union Jack and the Australian flag hanging in my bedroom, and I took them to Duntroon for my room in 1992 and 1993. I don't know exactly why I did that—it just felt right. That's what I mean: there's something inherently natural about that British identity in the Australian Defence Force (ADF).

When it comes to "God," my first experience in the military was the laying up of the colors for the 51st Battalion, the Far North Queensland Regiment, in a church during a church parade. That was my initial encounter with the military. I'll never forget at Duntroon the trooping of the colors on the Queen's birthday. The call was "three cheers for Her Most Gracious Majesty: hip, hip, huzzah!" Honestly, if you're not a monarchist after shouting "huzzah," what's wrong with you? Again, it felt very natural. And for "country," the 51st Battalion's motto is Ducit Amor Patriae, which essentially means "love of country leads me." Thus, God, King, and Country are embedded in the symbolism, practices, and institutions of the Australian Defence Force.

For me, this is deeply personal. What I'll argue, in terms of Robert Menzies, is that he was part of that continuity. I dare say that without Queen Elizabeth II reigning for so long, we wouldn't have had the same level of continuity. I don't know if King Charles would have had the same appeal had he been the monarch we relied upon as the representative of the Crown for Australia. There was a deep affection for Queen Elizabeth II, shared by Robert Menzies—famously "British to the bootstraps"—as seen in his poem about the Queen walking by him in Old Parliament House. So much of this feels natural, serendipitous, and enduring. The importance of God, King, and Country in the ADF stems from the unique sense of purpose it provides, which most other professions lack. When commissioned as an officer, you receive a commission from the sovereign—in my case, the Queen—stating that you are to follow orders, even if that means sending your soldiers, and yourself, to their deaths. That's profoundly powerful, and it's shared by warrant officers and other ranks as well. I'm examining Menzies' role in perpetuating this ideal, which truly begins in the modern ADF context with the Korean War. I'll explain that in detail, but I want to start at the end.

The Australian Defence Veterans' Covenant was introduced in 2019 under the Morrison government, building on earlier veteran support initiatives from previous administrations, including the Howard era, and has been reaffirmed in recent years. It's interesting because my generation of Australian soldiers was very disillusioned with the Returned and Services League (RSL) and the Department of Veterans' Affairs (DVA). Only in recent years have we started returning to the fold. I don't know why, but I think we missed it, and we've reached an age where we realise its importance and want to reintegrate it into our lives. I wasn't even aware of the Covenant until my hearing failed—as an artillery officer, of course—and I discovered I was pre-registered for hearing aids. Suddenly, I needed an RSL advocate, so I rejoined, dug out my old badge from 1999, and off I went. The Covenant introduces an American-style "thank you for your service" ethos, with its oath: "for what they have done, this we will do." One of its most important aspects is that the DVA covers all mental health treatment for every single soldier, sailor, and air person who has served. Things have changed significantly, much like after the First and Second World Wars, in terms of veterans' status. Yet this Covenant sits comfortably alongside British military customs. Attlee's idea of the New Jerusalem was similar in its general commitment to looking after veterans, though with more of a socialist bent than Sir Robert Menzies would have liked.

The living British traditions in the ADF are evident. In the regular army, I served with the Royal Regiment of Australian Artillery. This title was granted by Queen Elizabeth II in 1962. I'll never forget, as a young officer—a subaltern—being the newest member of the regiment and having to say grace at a dining-in night. These are formal events where you're not allowed to leave for the bathroom until the loyal toast is done, and they could be quite excruciating back in the 1990s—I can only imagine what they were like before that. The grace was simple: "For what we are about to receive, thank God." When I was told to say that, it reminded me of Duntroon, where I once asked the regimental drill sergeant major for advice on a parade and got a bum steer, landing me on extra drills for two weeks. I was always wary of pranks, like a tradesperson being sent for skyhooks—that was the culture. But the grace was indeed correct. The loyal toast for the Royal Regiment of Australian Artillery in my day was "the Queen, our Captain General." Of course, King Charles is now the Captain General. These are direct, frequent affirmations of the Crown and the Christian tradition.

That tradition continues in the RSL, which has its roots in the First World War. Like the Gallipoli Memorial Club in Sydney, which still exists, they initially faced issues with restricting membership to only Gallipoli veterans, but that didn't last long historically. They've had to adapt over time. Even today, at RSL meetings, we usually have a Union Jack alongside the Australian flag, and we always recite the Ode with the Last Post—it's almost archaic but very moving.

I mentioned the Korean War. My grandfather, whom I knew well, served in the Second World War and then joined the 67th Battalion, deploying to Japan in Hiroshima as part of the British Commonwealth Occupation Force (BCOF). Australia was naturally part of this Commonwealth effort. The 67th Battalion became the 3rd Battalion, Royal Australian Regiment (3 RAR) in 1948, which was our paratroop battalion until recent times. The "Royal" title was appended to the Australian Regiment in 1949. It's interesting that we began serving with Americans as the Royal Australian Regiment during the Korean War in 1950. Before that, it was simply the Second Australian Imperial Force (AIF) and BCOF. As a forward observer in the artillery, I worked directly with Bravo Company, 6 RAR, in Brisbane, and you really feel part of it. They are extremely proud of the Royal Australian Regiment. The Royal Australian Navy and Royal Australian Air Force have their own traditions, which I can't speak to as much, but we see the continuation of the British Army regimental system in Australia. In my time, we still used titles like SO3 (staff officer grade three), which was a captain, followed by your specialty like command and signals. That has now changed to American titles for interoperability, but the British have evolved along similar lines anyway—it's more of an alliance thing. Honors and awards are still approved by the sovereign, and the Crown remains the legal source of military authority in Australia.

The RSL was very much focused on imperial service, even in the interwar and postwar periods. My grandfather, after retiring, lived in an RSL home called War Haven in Cairns, which was essentially an entire village of veterans—you can imagine the shenanigans. But there was this sense of loyalty, belonging, and camaraderie. Service in the two world wars was largely seen as service to the Empire. Even though Curtin brought back the 6th, 7th, and 9th Divisions, turning toward the Americans out of necessity, it hasn't diminished that inculcated Britishness in the ADF. Returned soldiers received enhanced social status; if you look at property maps of Australia, you'll see the impact of land grants and other benefits, particularly in country towns. Military service was a badge of superior citizenship, rooted in British imperial loyalty.

Menzies was self-described as "British to the bootstraps"—it's almost a cliché when discussing him these days—but he sought to preserve a cultural Puritan inflection of British character in Australia. I think it's unfair when the left admonishes him for this, as he did lecture in the United States and had fond connections there. Through his demeanor, in my view, he reinvigorated monarchist and imperial sentiment in the 1950s and 1960s. When you add that our military units were gaining royal titles—which still exist relatively unchanged today—it created a favorable climate for the RSL's British-oriented veterans' culture, which persists to this day. The Royal Australian Regiment formed from the BCOF, and this happened under the Chifley government. This is not all Menzies' doing, but in my previous chapters on communications and Menzies and nuclear policy, he wasn't always the instigator but certainly the perpetuator of these ideas. The Royal Australian Regiment became the first permanent Australian infantry regiment, based on British models.

Going back to Kitchener, he recommended compulsory military service, which existed from 1911 to 1929. Menzies reintroduced national service in 1951. During these foundational periods in the ADF, basically every able-bodied male of a certain age experienced that tradition, perpetuating the inculcation of British military history through the Australian military. If you come to Gunning in my village in the southern tablelands of New South Wales, with a population of around 800, we routinely get 300 people turning up for the Anzac Day dawn service. Particularly in the regions, this culture and sense of identity still exist. The Royal Australian Regiment's hat badge motto is "Duty First." If you weren't doing your job, your colleagues would remind you to read your hat badge. You might not think much of symbols like the Melbourne University insignia, but in the military, these are constantly reinforced—they're living institutions in themselves, inculcating a sense you wouldn't find elsewhere.

In the Commonwealth of Nations context, Australia retains the Crown even as republics have been admitted, but the ADF continues to operate within Commonwealth military culture. This includes the ABCA Armies program (American, British, Canadian, Australian), with New Zealand joining later to form ABCANZ, involving regimental exchanges. At Duntroon, my gunnery officer was from the 1st Northumberland Fusiliers, a British regiment. Our artillery regimental officers' basic course was trained by a regimental sergeant major from the Royal Horse Artillery. These exchanges between Australia and the British military continue to this day and are very important. The integration is surprisingly seamless—the main cultural difference is that Aussies tend to rib each other more than the Brits or Kiwis do, aside from a few drill variations.

In terms of British identity in the defence force versus civilian Australia, in civilian life it's largely symbolic and declining. We still see influences like coats of arms in regional towns on prisons and courthouses, but they're not in your face or a lived tradition. In the ADF, these traditions are institutional, daily, and operational. In many ways, I see the ADF as the last redoubt of God, King, and Country. The difference persists because tradition and esprit de corps require continuity—you can't recreate history. If you've ever marched in column to a pipes and drums band playing the same tunes the British marched to in the Seven Years' War in the 1750s, you know how that adrenaline surges. These are tried-and-tested ways of motivating troops, and the same tunes continue today. The regimental system is inherently conservative because tradition is vital. There's also interoperability with UK and Commonwealth partners, extending to the Americans now. But there's a constitutional reality: the King, through the Governor-General, remains the commander-in-chief of the military. Veterans' organisations continue to reinforce that Britishness.

To conclude, the ADF remains one of the most British institutions in contemporary Australia, and loyalty to King and Country—and implicitly God—is not mere ceremony but a living tradition. I'll never forget, in my early days at Duntroon, lessons on various religions where the lecturer asked, "Hands up who doesn't believe in God?" A few raised their hands, and he said, "Well, let me tell you this: when we were caught in an ambush by the Japanese in New Guinea, everybody prayed." Implicitly, God is part of that. There's a saying—the Americans have it—that there are no atheists in foxholes. This identity was consciously preserved through the Menzies era and continues to shape the profession of arms in Australia. In my chapter, I hope to highlight examples of Menzies integrating with and delivering speeches to the RSL—he was a strong supporter. In the military, more than anywhere else in Australian society, this British identity endures.

Just in conclusion, if you look at the black-and-white photographs across the top, that's my great-grandfather. The second photo is before he went overseas, and the ones on either side show him changed substantially after war preparation training. The photo on the far right is him in the Second World War, as he went back for another six years. You can imagine that impact. Underneath are my grandfather, myself, and my son. As I say, it's very difficult to separate the personal from this idea of British identity because, to me, it's just natural. Thank you.

Flag-burning justifies audits of funding for activist groups

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If activists don't want the Australian state, then we need to ensure they are not benefiting from it.

My latest in The Spectator Australia, Flag-burning justifies audits of funding for activist groups.


Silvertail Liberals are up against sons and daughters of Anzacs

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The Liberal Party thinks that changing their leader is going to fix the party’s problems.

Anthony Albanese is having a field day. The worst Prime Minister in Australian history is getting away with incompetence because his complete rock-show of a circus has been overtaken by the Liberals’ own clown show. It’s been happening for years, and the faceless machine-men and their turkeys are all coming home to roost. Even the ABC’s former chief leftologist has gleefully come out of retirement to tell us that, historically, One Nation’s surge hurts the Coalition most.

The problem with this idea is its premise. Once the Coalition finds its feet, it can turn back the tide … but that is nonsense.

My latest in The Spectator Australia, Silvertail Liberals are up against sons and daughters of Anzacs.

Adelaide writers’ festival meets the ghosts of socialists past

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Reasons given for boycotting the event included not being ‘party to silencing writers’.

The implosion of the Adelaide Writers’ Festival stands as a hard reminder of historical lessons ignored.

Initially, the board cancelled a scheduled Palestinian-Australian author. A mass exodus of left-wing authors followed, culminating in the resignation of festival director, Louise Adler, and the cancellation of the event.

The author’s cancellation also brought a wave of withdrawals from writers and others, protesting what they call censorship.

Reasons given for boycotting the event included not being ‘party to silencing writers’.

However, uninviting controversial writers from a publicly-funded event is a far cry from silencing writers in general. It is my view that if people want to write controversial stuff, then they can do so at their own expense.

Among those who withdrew from the publicly-funded event were ABC journalists, whose actions raise sharp questions about the dangers of blind idealism. Such misplaced idealism is not new.

In the Morning Double Shot newsletter, Terry Barnes wrote:

What is the collective noun for a gathering of useless people who deserve one-way tickets for the next rocket to the Sun? That’s right, a writers’ festival. No-one should mourn the demise of the 2026 Adelaide Writers’ Week, and nobody should express any sympathy for, let alone solidarity with, the person who caused the controversy, nor the luvvies who flounced out after her. The real issue is this. If you take taxpayers’ coin for your love-in, the government of the day which approves the funding has a right to say who comes to the party. If you don’t like it, send the money back and do your own thing. I could say more, but…Michael de Percy shares his own views on the stupidity.

 My latest in The Spectator Australia, Adelaide writers’ festival meets the ghosts of socialists past.

Merry Christmas from the heartland of Santa Claus

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Easily the most amazing experience I have had so far is visiting the Neuschwanstein Castle.

From Munich: German Christmas markets are the best in the world. There’s something about Germany that makes Christmas feel more like Christmas than anywhere else. The focus is on food, drink, and good cheer, just as the Santa of my childhood represented. Back then, Christmas was special. It was a celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ. It was a time where everyone said Merry Christmas to each other, and it was the most special time of year.

In light of recent events in Australia, I think the Christmas spirit, much like chivalry and civility, is not dead. It has just been hiding in a closet, biding its time. The good news is that that time has come. And Germany, for all its faults, has reminded me of all that is great about the Christmas spirit.

My latest in The Spectator Australia, Merry Christmas from the heartland of Santa Claus.

Parliament cancels A Super Progressive Movie trailer: ‘It might offend someone’

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Cancelling the trailer was great marketing for One Nation's full feature-length movie.

What should have been a straightforward 5.30 pm event in Parliament House turned into a late-night 9.15 pm screening at Dendy Canberra after parliamentary services pulled the booking yesterday morning. The reason given: the content ‘might offend someone’.

The 90-second trailer and the first five minutes of the film (set in a dystopian ‘Naarm’) were shown to a packed cinema. Despite the short notice and the late hour, around half of the original ticketholders still turned up. Some had driven from Wagga Wagga, others from interstate. Dendy Canberra looked after everyone, and seeing it on the big screen with the big sound in layback chairs was impressive.

Terry Barnes had this to say in the Morning Double Shot newsletter:

As a declared Liberal, I’m not a spruiker for Hanson and One Nation. But the treatment of her this week, including by Liberal senators, has been appalling. It even extends to Parliament House staff, responsible to Labor presiding officers, banishing a screening of the trailer – a mere trailer – to Hanson’s Please Explain movie out in January, which then had to be held elsewhere. Michael de Percy followed the screening around Canberra, and reported from the cinema. I do wonder about Labor and Liberal political judgment sometimes: if they victimise a political opponent as they are Hanson, she not only gets the attention they want to deny her, but they win her sympathy and support. Burkas and berks!

My latest in The Spectator Australia, Parliament cancels A Super Progressive Movie trailer: ‘It might offend someone’.

Vale Allan Moffat, the gentleman racer

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With Allan Moffat's 1977 Hardie-Ferrodo 1000 winner's trophy at the Dog on the Tuckerbox.

Allan Moffat was Canadian by birth, but Australian by choice and by deed. He arrived here with an accent, a ruthless work ethic, and a gift for driving a race car on the absolute limit with a grace that made it look effortless. Four Bathurst wins, four Australian Touring Car titles, a Le Mans class victory, and more lap records than most drivers have race starts. Yet he was never less than courteous, never less than impeccably turned out, never anything less than a gentleman.

He gave us the 1-2 fairy tale of ’77, and decades of Ford versus Holden battles that felt like civil war on wheels. Australian motorsport would have been quieter, slower, and far less colourful without him.

My latest in The Spectator Australia, Vale Allan Moffat, the gentleman racer.


John Laws, Richo, and the end of an era

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John Laws not only commanded Australia’s airwaves for over seven decades, but our kitchen.

Laws’ voice bridged the gap between our kitchen and the world. When I heard the news that he was gone, I teared up and rang Alexandra to ask if we could do something that focused on the great man.

His departure leaves a void in the media landscape he helped define. For me, it stirs memories of a pivotal moment in my own career.

In the Unfiltered newsletter, Alexandra Marshall wrote:

Michael de Percy has shared his personal story with John Laws and describes his passing as an ‘end of an era’. ‘Laws wasn’t just a broadcaster. He was a cultural institution. Laws’ voice bridged the gap between our kitchen and the world … his voice echoed across generations, and in no small way, it helped shaped mine.’

My latest in The Spectator Australia, John Laws, Richo, and the end of an era.


Dave Rubin comes to Sydney

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People like Dave Rubin are bringing about the end of Woke, one cnversion at a time.

Last night I was fortunate enough to meet with Dave Rubin after his show in Chatswood. The event was hosted by the Centre for Independent Studies, MC'd by new CEO Michael Stutchbury, with Dave interviewed by former Deputy PM John Anderson.

Dave Rubin is an interesting character in the conservative movement. His journey proves that one does not necessarily fit the leftists' bill because of who they are and what they do.

Dave was very generous in spirit and I am pleased I was able to hear him speak about Charlie Kirk, Presidetn Trump, Australian politics, and all things political and cultural.

Labor ruins 125-year-old Anzac tradition

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This isn’t just a budget trim, it exposes Labor for having no interest in defending the nation’s soul.

Clad in their distinctive uniforms, these Salvation Army officers, known colloquially as Sally Men, provided hot brews – tea, coffee, biscuits, and often a listening ear to soldiers far from home. It was during the Gallipoli campaign in 1915 that their role truly embedded itself in the Anzac legend. Amid the mud, blood, and ceaseless artillery, the Sally Man was a beacon of humanity, reminding our troops that someone back home cared.

This tradition, stretching back to the Boer War era around 1900, has endured through two world wars, Korea, Vietnam, Afghanistan, and countless peacekeeping missions. It’s not hyperbole to say it’s woven into the fabric of Australian identity, much like the slouch hat or the rising sun badge.

Fast forward to 2025, and the Albanese government’s latest federal budget has quietly axed funding for the Salvation Army’s military support programs, including the frontline Sally Man initiatives. Buried in the fine print of defence allocations, this estimated $1.5 million annual cut will force the Salvos to scale back their presence in barracks, on exercises, and during deployments.

My latest in The Spectator Australia, Labor ruins 125-year-old Anzac tradition.

Remembering Robert Redford, the man who lit up my youth

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Redford as The Great Waldo Pepper, a daredevil aviator chasing glory in the skies after the Great War.

This week, Robert Redford, that golden-haired icon of American cinema, quietly slipped away at age 89, the same age my grandfather passed a few years ago.

Redford passed peacefully at his Sundance retreat in the Utah mountains. The man who embodied the rugged individualism of the West, played the heist, and soared through the skies on screen, now rests among the peaks he so fiercely protected. It’s a fitting end for a life that was anything but ordinary, a life that provided the soundtrack and scenery to my coming of age.

In the Unfiltered newsletter, Alexandra Marshall wrote:

The golden era of Hollywood has lost one of its most dearly loved stars. Robert Redford slipped away at 89. As Michael de Percy writes, ‘Redford passed peacefully at his Sundance retreat in the Utah mountains. The man who embodied the rugged individualism of the West, played the heist, and soared through the skies on screen, now rests among the peaks he so fiercely protected. It’s a fitting end for a life that was anything but ordinary, a life that provided the soundtrack and scenery to my coming of age.’

In the Morning Double Shot newsletter, Terry Barnes wrote:

Michael de Percy reveals a romantic streak in his otherwise ruthless political persona – although Redford’s politics and Michael’s would be polar opposites. As an actor and director, Redford made great films although, as Christopher Tookey points out in his appreciation, he didn’t fancy himself a great actor. Too many well-known people of the 60s and 70s are popping their clogs this year, but let’s make one thing clear as many of us mourn our lost youth through them: they died, not passed, or passed away. Why is it, in an age where social media brutalises the public discourse, everyone now says dead people ‘pass away’, not ‘die’?

My latest in The Spectator Australia, Remembering Robert Redford, the man who lit up my youth.

Charlie Kirk's Assassination #NoMore Double Standards

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It's time to start the #NoMore movement. No more double standards. No more two-tier policing.

The assassination of Charlie Kirk in the United States this week has sent shock waves around the world. Why did a young man ruin his life by taking the life of another? 

One of the things that I think we need to seriously look at now is our education system and how our education system, which has moved further and further to the left, is now arguing progressive points of view. 

We heard Black Lives Matter and the Me Too movement and we saw the extremes that these went to. 

Rather than riots in the United States, what we've seen as a result of Charlie Kirk's assassination have been prayer vigils. 

So for the conservative movement, a tragedy, but at the same time, we really need to start looking at what causes university students to behave this way. And I blame our education system. I think our education system has made it okay, much like the two-tier policing we've witnessed in the United Kingdom, and we're starting to see that in Australia as well. 

Two-tier policing, where leftist progressive causes are okay and conservative causes are not, represents the double standard that we're now starting to see in social and political commentary. It was okay for some to make light or even make fun of or rejoice and celebrate the assassination of Charlie Kirk. 

We saw this in particular with the incoming president of the Oxford Union in the United Kingdom. Repeatedly we hear that freedom of speech is sacrosanct. However, this only applies to the left. Anything that's said by the right is determined to be hate speech. 

Now there are extremes and I'm not arguing for extremes on either side but we need to have a much more centrist approach to this and this has been part of the great conversation and the great contest of ideas that is a hallmark of liberal democracy. 

The problem with moving too far to the left is that we're leaving behind liberal democracy and we're getting ever closer to socialism. 

Two-tier policing is a result of the double standard that is being applied. And we see this in particular with the assassination of Charlie Kirk. 

In the United Kingdom, you can lose your position for misgendering somebody, but for laughing about the assassination of somebody else. These are people in positions of responsibility. If this had happened in the private sector, there would have been outcry. 

However, when it happens in the education system, it's okay because the system looks after itself. 

Our education system has been overtaken by progressive ideas, but not just progressive ideas, but extreme leftist ideas. And this needs to change. 

It's time to start the #NoMore movement. No more assassinations. No more double standards. No more two-tier policing. No more putting up with criminal activity. It's time that our country got back on track.

Gallipoli Scholarship gives Anzac kids a fighting chance

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The audience was brought to tears on numerous occasions. Not through laughter, but pride and humility.

In an era where military service is seen by some as anti-peace and anti-humane, I was struck by the positive nature of the Gallipoli Club and the recipients of the Gallipoli Scholarship Foundation. To hear from two recipients of the scholarship, both direct descendants of working-class Anzacs, was a poignant reminder not to discount Australian youth when it comes to matters of national pride. We often assume our youth do not have the same patriotic fervour but having taught more than 20,000 young Australians over the years, and after listening to the Gallipoli Scholars, you will be pleased to know that patriotism is not dead but rather hiding in a closet.

My latest in The Spectator Australia, Gallipoli Scholarship gives Anzac kids a fighting chance.

Royal Enfield Intercontinental GT 650 bar end update

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The new bar ends work a treat. Much nicer than the chunky grey originals.

I purchased the bar end caps from Cafe Racer Club and tried to fit them to my Royal Enfield Intercontinental GT 650 yesterday.

The original bar end caps.

As others had found, the bar end weights, designed to minimise vibration in the handlebars, do not allow bar end insert mirros to be fitted, or after market end caps.

Left: Original end cap and bar end weight. Right: Cafe Racer Club bar end cap and insert.  

Others have found that removing the bar end weights is relatively easy. Not for me. In the end, we used a slide hammer to get them out.

The new bar ends are much narrower.

Once removed, the Cafe Racer Club end bar caps were fitted, and it works a treat.

The Cafe Racer Club bar ends are the tapered version. They are much narrower than the originals.

With the bar end mirrors and the end caps, I have noticed no noticeable difference to handling or vibration in the bars.

The original bar ends are quite chunky.

I think it looks great and it has shaved a bit off the width of the bars which has proven handy for getting through my gate.

Royal Enfield Intercontinental GT 650 bar end mirrors problem solved!

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Royal Enfield 2025 Intercontinental GT 650 bar end mirrors problem solved!

When my brand new Royal Enfield 2025 Intercontinental GT 650 turned up, the bar end mirrors were slipping all over the place. The message from the workshop was that I would need to adjust them. They also didn't have any blanks to fill the holes left from the stock mirrors.

You can buy the blanking caps for the stock mirrors from Cafe Racer Club.

I bought these mirror blanking screws from Cafe Racer Club and fitted them with some 222 Loctite Screw Lock. Tip for new players: Use a piece of cloth or cardboard so the screwdriver doesn't scratch the paint off the driving slot on the blanking plug.

My GT 650 arrives.

I'd purchased the Royal Enfield branded mirrors but they just didn't seem to fit. Then I watched a YouTube video where the original bar end inserts were replaced when fitting some chrome Stadium mirrors. To get the bar end inserts out seems to be a two-person job. If you peel back the grips slightly, you will see a hole on top and bottom of the bar. These holes fit little lugs in the bar end insert to hold it in place. You have to depress the lugs in each hole simultaneously to remove the insert.

I intend to replace the original inserts when my new Cafe Rider Club bar ends arrive.

On the end of the original insert is a keyway that matches the original bar end caps. Some people file these flat but I wanted to keep the old parts. I also wanted my mirrors to stay in place. I found the metal and plastic sleeves provided in the bar end mirror kit were superfluous.

The sleeves are superfluous on the GT 650 and the original cap screw is too long.

But if you take the original bar end caps off, you can bolt the mirrors straight into the bars, leaving a small gap between the throttle and the mirror. I also put the mirror flush with the end of the bars (not the bar end lug). The mirrors will stay put.

I left a gap for the throttle.

Next, I re-fitted the original bar end caps by using a shorter cap screw (and with a full thread). This means the original end caps fit flush with the lugs on the original bar end insert.

The screw is a M6 x 16mm, 1.0 pitch, socket head cap screw. Works a treat! I will update this once I work out how to fit the Cafe Racer Club tapered bar end finishers.

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