For more than a year now The Australian newspaper – led by its chief national affairs in BrisVegas correspondent Hedley ‘Doubting’ Thomas, the Anthony Mundine of the journalism world; and ably assisted by the Churchie child sexual abuse holocaust denier and sometime lawman Tony Morris QC, or as old Horace used to say Queer Customer – has been thumping the tub about the bogeyman known to frightened kiddies from Kenmore to Cunnamulla and back as old Evil 18C.

If you believe what you read from Doubting in the Oz – and admittedly most don’t, the broad consensus being that he’s a fighter on the slide who like The Man is headed rapidly downhill in the direction of wash up – the  you’d be dead set convinced that the greatest threat to freedom in the free world are not fundamentalist terror-wielders with a fondness for the privations of the dark ages, or raving loonies living in big White Houses,  or even once-respected writers who are so punchy that they’ve forgotten how to spell objectivity.

Oh no, according to Doubting and the Queer Customer the rampaging Grim Reaper of freedom wrecking are none of these frightening folks – they’re apparently mere tadpoles dog-paddling in the pallid dregs at the bottom of the totem pole of tyranny.

The real threat to humankind – the dastardly covert assassins on a mission to destroy democracy, massacre the Murdoch empire, and utterly annihilate the sports fan’s right to call a spade a bloody shovel, or Sambo if they choose – are nine simple lines contained in a dusty document designed in a crop circle on top of a hill in the middle of nowhere, halfway between Mrs Macquarie’s chair and Ned Kelly’s noose.

crop-circle

It’s the Evil 18C that’s the true enemy you see.

That goddamned devil disguised as decency that purports to prevent the everyday punter from exercising their birthright as a descendant of illegal immigrants to call a bloody black bastard of a boxer a boong, or nickname a neurosurgeon from Nigeria nigger, or describe a dentist from Dakhar as a darky. For the love of all things creamy and good, these days a whiteous war hero from Wangaratta can’t even call a common Chinaman chinky thanks to the bloody evil freedom-wrecking 18C.

It’s just not cricket cobber, not according to Hedley and the QC anyway, and if we don’t give the evil 18C the Big Bash and smash it for six immediately well then the apocalypse is nigh and the world as we know it will come to an end before tea on the first day-night of the pink balled Gabba test.

There’s just one wee problem punters. .

Doubting and the Queer Customer are full of sh*t.

shitto.jpg

Yes, that’s correct kiddies, the pontificating pair of free-speech protectors are pulling your bloody chain, yanking it even harder than the hollering out the side of their pie hole spivs that are spruiking the Mundine-Green shot pug fiasco as the fight of the century are tugging your wide-eyed and innocently ignorant rug .

Allow me to illustrate the truth of that which I tout by casting aside the crap you’ve been peddled for a precious second and allowing me to ask you a simple single question sportsfans:

How many complaints did the much criticised Australian Human Rights Commission (AHRC) receive under the Racial Discrimination Act last year?

561.

And how many of these were made under the Evil 18C?

Just 116.

Let’s compare free speech apples with free speech apples shall we?

How many complaints did the Press Council – the association whose objects are to promote freedom of speech by ensuring  responsible reporting, and ensuring adherence to high standards of journalism and editing – receive during a similar 12 month period?

3751.

More than 32 times as many as were made to the AHRC under the Evil 18C section of the Racial Discrimination Act.

We don’t hear Doubting and the Queer Customer shouting from the rooftops about that particular fact, do we sportsfans? Funny that.

How many complaints to the Press Council were adjudicated and upheld?

75%, or approximately 2820.

How many 18C claims were upheld?

2/3 of sweet f*ck all.

The dynamic duo have told us about exactly the same amount about that telling statistic as well. That’s a bit odd too isn’t it?

Why aren’t these lions of freedom roaring about the number of media stories that have been judged to be dodgy – a perversion of free speech – over the same period that all but a mere handful of 18C complaints were upheld, and ipso facto according to the logic of the dynamic democracy defending duo threatened public order and freedom?

Of course it’s merely a rhetorical question, for the answer is self-evident. The press sleuth with the sexy salary package and the occasional columnist with the oddball views on school leaders letting students get sexually assaulted while in their care don’t want to piss in their own backyard, or more correctly in that of the piper who pays or promotes them and thus calls their tune.

Rampaging Rupert Murdoch is a protected species, and self-published criticism of the content of his fish and chips wrappers is not allowed. Informing the paying public that an average of approximately 8 stories that they read each day are a crock of crap doesn’t sell papers.

But bagging a little-known and much misunderstood government established authority, and nine little lines contained in an obscure piece of hitherto largely unknown legislation does. And so the Human Rights Commission is fair game, and section 18C becomes the evil harbinger of the freedom-free future that awaits if we do not cast those little 9 lines into the all consuming abyss.

Some people call this type of queer campaign-style reporting quality journalism.

This little black duck calls it craven crap.

What say you sportsfans?

Speak now before the Evil 18C silences your voice forever, and a thousand fairies wings flutter and 50 score of little green guys and girls all named Tinkerbell fly up from the bottom of the garden and gobble up your kids.

Just like the pedophile teachers at Churchie did.