I think if we can learn anything from last week’s now infamous conversation at Melbourne Airport, it’s this: don’t say anything mildly amusing to Steve Price, ever. It’s either that or keep your conversational dabblings with Richard Wilkins to a minimum. Or don’t loiter in airports with anyone who once had s-x with Collette Dinnigan.
I don’t know; I think far less disturbing than Labor frontbencher Peter Garrett suggesting that once the ALP get in “we’ll change it all” (presumably only echoing the fervent hopes of eighty percent of sweaty left-wingers who are praying against all evidence to the contrary that within Kevin Rudd’s do-goodly exterior beats the heart of a revolutionary) is the image of ol’ bulb-head kicking back with Richard Wilkins and Steve Price in the Qantas Lounge. What the devil is that bizarre little gathering about?
I can’t stop thinking about those weird pictures from Liza Minnelli’s wedding to thumbfaced David Gest. Everywhere you looked, someone random and utterly bizarre would be tacked on to the bridal party. Oh look, there’s Michael Jackson. And Elizabeth Taylor. And 2UE shock jock Steve “the poison dwarf” Price lingering in the background attempting to hoover up droplets of information. Mystifying.
How this little tete a tete took place I have no idea. Were PG and Dick Wilks shooting the breeze about the music biz only to have Steve Price wade his way into the conversation uninvited? Were the three of them reaching for the last sticky bun on the buffet? How can I get my Frequent Flyer status updated to get in on the hotbed of intrigue? Clearly I’m missing the juice.
Now Charles Wooley’s invited himself to the party, which just adds to the farce of it all. No, he says, he wasn’t in the Lounge that fateful day, though he once heard Garrett made a particularly poor-quality knock-knock joke which can only mean one thing: the guy was speaking truths.
I can’t make head nor tail of it, but for the first and possibly only time in my life I will say this – Richard Wilkins knows what he’s on about. Now shoot me.
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