The Magpie names the runaway winner of his new award, the Ironyman Challenge; and buying back the farm – could the scene be set the Townsville Bulletin come back into local hands?

Don’t scoff – like the old Pantene shampoo ad should have said, it won’t happen overnight, but it could happen. The week’s revelations have set that train arollin’. also, keeping it in the family: Astonisher Iditor Lachy Heywood keeps it in the family, and keeps in good with the missus.

Resident ‘toonist Bentley has binge thinker Clive Palmer in the crosshairs ….

And what’s that smell? Elizabeth Arden sacks two celebs who flog the company’s perfumes, but The ‘Pie reckons we should adopt the idea and think locally to create a line of scents linked to local personalities.

But Canberra takes our attention first up this week. A while back, we thought it was going to be tag team wrestling with The Fatman and The Hatman taking on The Wingnut and Joe the Jolly Giant. But it seems somewhere along the line, the Mad Katter was way ahead of the rest of us.

Then galumphing onto the scene was that Tasmanian tease Jacqui Lambie, who took to radio to enlighten us – we really preferred to stay in the dark – with her after-hours ambitions involving ‘well hung’ blokes. She wasn’t shy about getting the message out anyway she could.

The ‘Pie’s old nana had a term for ‘certain’ women -‘rough trade’ -, and that they ‘look like the need a good scrub’. Little doubt if Nan were around today, that would certainly be her judgment on Senator Lambie.

But it all stopped being funny during the week, when Clive stripped his gears on national TV to give the Chinese ‘mongrels and bastards’ a free character reading. That was backed up in the Senate the next day with Jumpin’ Jacqui going all silly-hysterical, taking it up a notch to warn of a Chinese invasion. The ghost of Robert Menzies must have given a satisfied little air punch when he heard that – the scare tactic he’d used to stay in power for 22 long years was alive and kicking again. But fair’s fair, a couple of points for Senator Lambie not mentioning ‘yellow peril’.

But, Ms Lambie,  you know its time for a re-think when Pauline Hansen reckons your bonkers.

Bentley sees the dysfunctional duo needing all their special powers to get back from this one.

(Ummm, Bentley, old mate, your image of The Magpie is at odds with words you have him saying, not a …err … hung in sight … and let’s keep it that way – Ms Lambie’s  predilections for well-hungness also require that it dangle between two large bags stuffed with cash. The ‘Pie misses out all round).

But the Clive and Jacqui show had to share the stage with government players, particularly our treasurer and his unique world view.

And any discomfort he shows has nothing to do with realizing his policies are insidious classist bits of bastardry – no, the reason his more simple.

And the Victorian police now believe that Bill Shorten’s short ‘un didn’t get him into trouble almost 30 years ago with a teenager at an ALP camp. She accused him of rape, the police investigated for a year, and now say there isn’t enough evidence to bring charges. After speaking on the matter that has been all over social media for more than a year but never seeing the light of day in the mainstream media, Bill announced his policy on the issue.

The Opposition Leader wouldn’t be drawn further, although he visually responded when Julie Bishop suggested he was known as a dud root anyway.

Moving along.

The ‘Pie’s new occasional award The Ironyman Challenge for double-dealing is sorely needed in these times, and the inaugural winner is none other that –ta da – Rupert Murdoch.

The old twister went into a right old tizz when the Crikey.com website published a leaked document showing just how bad things were going for News Ltd and The Australian in particular.

In a decision only he could approve, Rupert had his legal minions fire off a ‘cease and desist or else’ letter to Crikey and warned all other media outlets that he would take the legal tinsnips to their goolies if they decided to jump on the bandwagon and publish the material. Now, that is all OK, News is entitled to protect their confidential information – although there must have been some bemused shareholders hearing for the first time about The Oz’s financial nosedive – and in a left-leaning stickybeak site like Crikey to boot. What isn’t OK is the indignant self-righteousness lecturing in most of News Corps mastheads about how iniquitousness it all was, and that it might damage the company’s share price. A laughable how-dare-you pose that conveniently ignores News’ own behaviour on frequent occasions over the years, praising Wikileaks, Julian Assange, Snowden and the NSA revelations, and secret information from any number of disgruntled Australian public servants to publish scoop stories.

So Rupert’s ‘do as I say, don’t do as I do’ dictum earns him the first Ironyman Challenge Award, and very nearly become a dual winner, being considered for the Janus Two-Faced BUMM Trophy as well.

But all that high-level hoopla can’t disguise the very real fact that News Corps print titles in Australia are in bigger trouble than imagined, to the extent that they are dragging down the company’s global performance. The purloined figures, all 300 pages of them pertaining to a couple of years ago,  revealed that The Oz had lost a bit over $27 million in the previous year, and advertisers were heading for the lifeboats in alarming numbers. News print profits were down 14% to 18% depending on who you read.

So this brings us to what was until now the fantasyland of buying back the farm. Will the company’s print asset be put on the block, including the Townsville Bulletin which could open the way for a local consortium to buy the Astonisher and all the regional mastheads?

Well, even if that scenario does unfold, there is one or two major stumbling blocks for anyone hoping to harness the local market. The most obvious is money.

There is the $56 million printing press and print hall building itself just for starters, and the masthead’s monopolistic profitability would command quite a few million more. All up, the ask would likely be well over $100 million. Make no mistake, the paper still makes money, just not as much as it used to, a lot of it coming from national deals done down south with national chains (Harvey Norman, Mercedes, Dan Murphy,Holden and so forth). So who’d have that sort of dough; jeez, even Bazza Taylor isn’t that rich (not quite) – and the thought of Big Bazza having editorial control of an influential publication up this way would make the current set-up with Rupert seem a model of rectitude.

The other very real consideration is that the problems with the paper that exist now will continue to exist and will probably intenify. No longer the gatekeepers of information or the sole place for businesses to advertise, it will become even more of a problem as time goes by. Indeed, the Bulletin is in such a precarious situation right now – being so on the nose and mistrusted – that it would be quite possible for an entity to come in with as little as a couple of million bucks and pinch a worthwhile share of the action in print and on-line … and they wouldn’t have the burden of News’s massive infrastructure.

But as they say, pigs are end of the runaway and ready for take-off.

Meanwhile, dropping into the mixed metaphor department, Lachlan Heywood is proving he’s no dummy and knows which side his bread is buttered. At least on on the home front, anyway.  The ’Pie was curious about this pic.

Sure enough, the glam turns out to be the editor’s missus, Megan Heywood, eye-catchingly tricked out for the photo op with one Martin McDonough, organiser of next month’s Starlit Sensation’s gala dinner at Jezzine Parklands (it’s says $210-a-plate, but one trusts you’d get several plates of grub for that, plus the odd drop of plonk, a quick massage behind the brigadier’s house and a ride home.) There’s no indication of Mrs Heywood’s involvement in this knees-up, but hey, it had to be somebody in the pic. So why not, plus all those brownie points for our boy?

A little on-line snooping shows that Megan is her own woman, a proud mum, a keen fitness participant and active in charity around the place when she isn’t sending naughty people away for government holidays as a crown prosecutor for the local DPP.

So Lachy, what with a glam working wife and mum, a couple of beaut looking kids and a busy social whirl in our local Nescafe society, you look like a lucky bloke who’s almost got it all.

Almost? Well, Lachy, about your paper….  ah, not to worry, can’t have it all, eh?

But just as a token of devotion, you could buy Megan a 2001 Corvette to suit her seemingly sporty side. You might find this one – advertised in your very own Astonisher – just the ticket, a steal at $63,000 – they don’t make ‘em like they used to … obviously.

But that barely rates as much of a mistake next to the publishing disaster that has overtaken book publishers Random House. It’s self explanatory.

And despite all that – ummm – brown-nosing, it’s still going to cost a motza in damages.

Rambling onward.

The ‘Pie was fascinated to learn that the pong purveyors Elizabeth Arden have dumped celebs Justin Bieber and Taylor Swift (whoever she may be) as two of their perfume personalities. Just seems it’s a bit of a turn-off to the punters, like, who would want to smell like a pimply has-been not yet turned 20? But then a light bulb moment – why don’t we start a perfume line featuring some of our own celebrities here in the ‘Ville? Seems logical, because no one wants to waft around a haze that is reminiscent of some remote person (really, who is bloody Taylor Swift?)

Suggestions welcome, and to kick off the idea, here is a prelim list from the ‘Pie.

Jenny Hill’s Mullet Mystique – a distinctive piscine scent redolent with hints of smoky backrooms at the Patriots Bikers Club and ALP BBQ fundraisers. Its been called beguiling by some, devious by others and tends to challenge your sense of reality.

Tony Parsons Parfume du Parsnip – for the sporty type, with earthy back notes and suggestions of secret dealings  with colleagues.

Barry Taylor’s Bazza’s Big Bucks, a loud brassy product that assails not just the nose but the ears as well. WARNING: This product is VERY expensive and some suggest vastly overpriced. Others say the opposite, that it certainly did the trick for them and was worth it. It is upfront, and could not be called a subtle fragrance.

Anthony Simpo Templeton’s Revelation.  Continually described as an exclusive product, despite the fact that it is actually re-cycled Old Spice.

David Kippin’s Whispers Down The Wishing Well. Unusual in that despite claims to the contrary, no one knows if its actually working for them, and despite being vastly overpriced, no one has been able to say for sure that it has done anything for them.

David Moyle’s Parfume du Partie. This scent is claimed to be suitable to ensure success at any party, but the evidence is that even Mr Moyle himself hasn’t been able to score a single one-night stand while on the party circuit, let alone any enduring relationship.

Ratepayers’ Rapture. A top secret mix that won’t be released until the end of March 2016. Insiders have hinted it will be a mixture of old and new elements, but will basically hit the same nose notes as the current favorite, Whisps of Walkers Street.

Feel free to submit the scent you would like to see on Myers shelves, and it doesn’t have to be just the ‘Ville – The ‘Pie hears there will be a late run on Campbell Newman’s product Once in a Lifetime – it’s expected to be out of date this time next year, and could be replaced with the LNP’s Languor Lost.

And before we go, here’s a little something for a barrister mate who thinks fun is riding 50 times continuously up and down Castle Hill. Mike, your missus should have told you at the outset.

Enough now, it is away to Poseurs’s Bar, where The ‘Pie will avoid the subject of perfumes completely, after the unhappy ending to an exchange he overheard between Mongrel the Barrister and a young lady he had engaged in conversation. He asked what her perfume was, to which she replied with batted eyelids ‘It’s Come To Me’, to which Mongrel chortled ‘Funny, it don’t smell like come to me hur-hur-hur …errrkk’ .

He’s still walking very gingerly.