Upper House
Australian senators accused of leering at each other’s posteriors? Of failing to show respect? Of not “bowing and scraping” sufficiently in deference to the chair?
Welcome to just another day on the plush red carpet of the nation’s more civilised Upper House.
But then, the final sitting Thursday was never just any old day was it?
Continue reading "Arsegate and other Upper House shenanigans" »
Some years ago the BBC produced a brilliant documentary series about the House of Lords which chronicled the strange existence of those hereditary peers who by dint of their birth had wound up being underemployed for life in this absurd parliamentary chamber.
There was one chap aged only in his 30s who was not only completely loaded, he was also completely smashed, living in the rundown country estate his late father had left to him where the only functioning room appeared to be the cellar. Every morning he would wake up, put on his tweed trousers and a silly cravat, and start working his way through bottle after bottle of 1950s French burgundy. His face was dotted with burst capillaries and he sat in his comfy chair like that Uncle Monty from Withnail and I, rabbitting about how one felt a sense of duty in maintaining one’s family traditions by serving as a Lord.
It now seems that even the Brits have realised their Upper House is an elitist anachronism and a waste of money.
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Matt Stewart says:
Gavin, The reforms I suggest are based on the assumption that you are right. The goal is to direct that factionalism along state lines, with senators thinking about what is best for that state. Ruling out political party membership is not foolproof, but it will help. When you are a… Read more »
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Gavin says:
Aboloshing the right to join a party in any official capacity will not stop “factions” from forming and power bases establishing themselves. At least with party politics, everyone knows it is happening and who sits where on issues… Read more »
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marley says:
I'm one of the older ones, so I've certainly seen a few changes in my time. When I started school I learned to write with a nib pen, dipped in an inkwell (no, I'm not kidding). My mother became a dab hand at getting inkstains out of my clothes. Flicking ink at one another in the classroom was an essential… [read more]From: I’d rather have a piece of toast than listen to crap lyrics
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