The Sun-Herald

WHO WE ARE: Pudding on the fritz

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A column about Australia by David Dale, published in The Sun-Herald 23/8/2009
Kevin Rudd has been leader of the Labor Party for nearly three years, and in that time his opponents have been unable to substantiate any suggestion of misbehaviour against him. Like the Irishman Harrigan in the song (also called Harrigan), his is a name that a shame never has been connected with.

Until this month. Now the evidence is there for all to see in Hansard, the record of proceedings of the parliament. Kevin Rudd has imposed horrific tortures on a national hero. The Prime Minister stands revealed as a perpetrator of pudding abuse.

Two years ago this column's readers bestowed the title "the national metaphor" on The Magic Pudding (go here for that discussion). Albert (for that is the pudding's name) has been an infinitely renewable resource for pundits and politicians ever since his creation in 1918 by the artist Norman Lindsay.

Lindsay wrote: "What this pudding requires is politeness and constant eating." Sadly, Kevin Rudd has provided only the latter.

In Lindsay's book, Albert's friend Bill Barnacle outlined his three characteristics:
1) "The more you eats, the more you gets. Cut and come again is his name and cut and come again is his nature".
2) Although Albert was originally a steak and kidney pudding, you can change his flavour if you whistle three times and turn the plate around. Then Albert will encourage you to "eat away, chew away, munch and bolt and guzzle. Never leave the table till you're full up to the muzzle."
3) Albert gets his kicks by tricking people. "He's that artful, lawyers couldn't manage him," says Bill. "If you wasn't up to his games, he'd be asking you to look at a spider and then run away while your back is turned."

The former Prime Minister, Paul Keating, was a grateful consumer. Revealing that he had actually read the book, he accused the Liberal Party of being "puddin' thieves" (the villains in Lindsay's book, while "puddin' owners" are the heroes). He remarked: "The Coalition parties have always regarded Telstra as some sort of magic pudding from which they could cut a slice to pay for their election commitments."

Keating's successor, John Howard, used to call the Labor Shadow Treasurer "Mr Magic Pudding Himself", because he promised increased government spending simultaneously with tax cuts.

It was only a matter of time before Kevin Rudd poked his spoon into the basin. Over recent months this column has been tracking his use of antiquated Australianisms. "Fair shake of the sauce bottle, mate" he told a journalist asking an impertinent question. He described the Muslim cleric Taj El-Din Hilaly as "several sandwiches short of a picnic", and when he got food poisoning, he said he'd had to "drive the porcelain bus".

These attempts to make himself sound more like an ocker and less like a nerd were lame but harmless. Then, on August 10, his climate change minister Penny Wong remarked that Malcolm Turnbull's proposal for a cheap solution to climate change had "the distinct taste of magic pudding". That got a small laugh, so the next day Rudd decided to improve on it: "Mr Speaker, this is a rolled-gold, unreconstructed, Magic Pudding from Central Casting.''

Poor Albert. He's encased in precious metal, rendering him not only uncomfortable but also inedible. He's unable to reconstruct himself, leaving him stuck as steak and kidney. And he's accused of being a generic acting stereotype, when of course, he's unique.

This crime against an icon was so blatant you'd have expected Turnbull to demand Rudd's resignation. His silence suggests he secretly envies Rudd for getting in first. Like all politicians, Turnbull is a pudding-abuser-in-waiting.

Go to comments to suggest appropriate punishment.

David Dale is the author of Who We Are -- A snapshot of Australia today (Allen and Unwin). For daily updates on Australian attitudes, bookmark blogs.sunherald.com.au/whoweare.