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Homos Away in Summer Bay storm

March 29th 2009 05:28
Stormy weather
"Take the lesbian below, Mr Christian!"


Two female characters snogging in a disposable bit of moving wallpaper called ‘Home & Away’ created a tsunami of manufactured outrage last week, redoubled when Channel 7 ‘caved in’ and censored the lezzo liplock.


First a pseudo-Christian nano-group decried the promotion of homosexuality, then gay groups leaped in berating the TV station for its spineless capitulation. Channel 7’s publicity department must be creaming their jeans.

The two soapy characters are called Charlie and Joey, a policewoman and a trawler deckhand: subtle hints that these two ladies might have interests other than those motivating the rest of the women in Summer Bay.

With jobs like that they ought to be quite strong, but their clingy singlets reveal no hint of the muscles needed to haul in nets full of prawns, or subdue determined criminals. And surely their attractively tousled shoulder length manes would be a safety hazard? Not to mention those nails . . . .

No, Charlie and Joey are fantasy porno-lezzos, the sort Mr Hetero imagines sliding between for a hot night of conversion therapy.

Not that the show is exactly a beacon of social realism anyway. Summer Bay is very bleached-blond, Anglo-Saxon and heterosexual – dubbed into German it would have been all the rage in 1940’s Berlin.

It’s annoying to find oneself forced to defend this sort of stereotypical trash, especially when the whole story is just a media beat-up.


The only person truly ‘outraged’ by Charlie and Joey was one Angela Conway, the ‘spokeswoman’ for a previously little-known organisation “Pro Family Perspectives”. Ms Conway is also a leading member of the Australian Family Association, the National Civic Council, and the Festival of Light – all minuscule Christian front groups who big-note themselves with grandiose names, when in reality they are just threadbare Australian glove-puppets spouting the shop-worn bigotry of their American parent organisations.

Conway complained of the sexualisation of the storylines in Home and Away. Clearly teen romance, stalking, unplanned pregnancy, elopement and illicit affairs don’t count. Either that or she doesn’t watch the show.

I don’t watch the show either. In the words of a close friend, I am ‘not the target market’. So why should I care?

In the first place, I detest censorship, of which there is already far too much in Australian television. Programs you would see around 8.30 pm in any civilised country are here banished to the small hours or to pay TV. And if Senator Conroy gets his way, there’s soon to be even more censorship, this time of the internet.

Secondly, a million Australians, not to mention millions more around the world, do watch Home and Away. The program is particularly popular with young people. Even a soft-focus, unrealistic, depiction of love between two members of the same sex would be an improvement on complete invisibility.

Though for a really good storyline, I reckon the producers ought to pop Alf Stewart into Xavier Austin’s bed. Now that really would be worth talking about!
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Diary of a President

March 6th 2009 23:45
ChillOut Festival


Thursday:
ChillOut starts tomorrow and we finally get some action from Tourism Victoria, Premier John Brumby and Tourism Minister Tim Holding. After days of pushing for a declaration that it’s perfectly safe to come to Daylesford, the CFA area commander finally says yes, and even encourages people to come. That breaks the dam. Word starts to go out from the government – it’s time to go back to the bush – and we get buried in a laundry list of a press release covering everything from Opera in the Vines to the Bullarto Vintage Tractor Pull.

More phone calls and politely cross emails to the government. Then Tim Holdings media man starts pushing, and suddenly we’re on WIN TV, Channel 7 news, Breakfast with Red Symonds, Drive with Lindy Burns, 3CR . . . . . and commercial radio agrees to run 15 second ads featuring Dolly Diamond, for free.

This leads to some interesting phone calls from grey nomads who obviously didn’t catch the hint that ChillOut’s a gay festival. When it gets to the bit where I mention twin yodelling lesbian cowboy Kiwi twins, they start to get a bit restive. “Yes, thank you, thank you very much, yes, er….”, they go, too polite to hang up but so embarrassed you can almost feel the telephone blush. I check with accommodation bureau – vacant places are starting to fill up! Yes! Fags and dykes save the town!
Diversity
Diversity in action

Friday: First day of the festival, and our big fundraising lunch. All the tables are filled – but will wallets be opened? Last year the lunch raised almost half of our $25k total, but there’s a recession on. Dolly Diamond and Rose Garden hit the floor, the bids mount up . . . at first the total is $14.5k – wow . . then the results of the silent auction come in . . grand total $20k. I think we are going to be OK.

In the evening to the Opening Night Party with the Topp Twins. Numbers for dinner look a bit thin, but apparently every seat is sold. Then it’s time for the show, and there’s a sudden flood of people – hundreds of lesbians flooding in. A short, thin shaven headed young man sidles up to me and says, “Remember me? Tall skinny blond Belfast bitch?” It’s Rose Garden in plain clothes. I slip away in the interval – it’s been a very busy couple of days.
All welcome
Everyone joined in


Saturday.
Passing the Palais on the way to breakfast I see people sweeping up glass on the pavement. Apparently a small group of local drunks, having been thrown out of somewhere else, came down make trouble. But the police were magnificent. “We know who the ringleader is. We’ll just call the President of the footy club and have him suspended,” says the senior sergeant. Sorted.

Today is ‘fly the flag day’ – visit event, give short speech, beg for more donations, head off to the next. It’s 9.45 - a brief break while the Significant Other enjoys a deep tissue massage. It’s a tough life being the Presidential spouse!

12.00: Sex ed at the Palais with my old mate Kaye Sera – she falls off the stage. Seen later with walking sticks. Suggest she retitles her show “Come and See Kayes New Crutch.” Get walloped with crutch.

1.30: Bocce at the Macaroni Factory with Arcilesbica. Lunch somewhere.

5.00:
Hand out the silverware at Hepburn Springs golf club. 7.00: Dinner. 9.00: Back to the Palais for a dosey-doh with me darlin’.
Daylesford Firie
Daylesford Firies

During the dance, the phone rings. Will I do a phoner – now – with ABC Ballarat? Rings again - ABC national breakfast news? Will I meet a TV crew from tomorrow’s 7pm news and line up some stories for them? Do a radio interview now? Yay!

Gloss comes off when a queen sidles up to say, “Saw you on Ch 7 news last night. You’ve got a great face for radio.”


Sunday:
The BIG day. Saturday night went off without a hitch. More news now est. $25k raised for Buddies for Wildlife, the Wildlife Shelter, and the CFA.

9.30:
To Vincent Street for the Parade. A few minor hitches: Mercedes Benz banners are still at the golf club following the tournament they sponsored, and the guy with the keys has been taken to hospital. Minor hissy fits from their PR person all day, so I put her number on block. Too many other things to do.

10.00: Call from Victoria Park: a big truck has barged through Joy’s overhead phone cable. Tell Joy tech whizz Nick Basset. He groans, and head off to restring it.

The street looks empty. Is anyone going to be here? Surely there were more people at this time last year. Do my ABC TV interview. They do another with Jim Culbertson, our Director, who lost all his feed, stock, paddock and fences in the fire. They head off to film at Peppers Spring Resort with Leo Sayer and spa owner Chris Malden.
Women on top
Women make a statement

10.30: As the ABC start to film the Parade, I look up and see that the street is filled to overflowing. Easily 5,000 people lining the short street and down the middle. Way more than last year. I join the Bent TV crew to do the commentary, but it’s hard, because there’s a lump in my throat. I think we made it!!

11.00:
To Vic Park for Carnival, and all doubts vanish. More than 6,000 people through the gates. They love Leo Sayer, and he loves us back, and makes a short emotional statement supporting gay marriage. He pulls a big bearded guy out of the crowd and kissed him on the mouth. The crowd go crazy. I can hardly see – I’ve got tears streaming down may face.

Backstage he hugs me – he fits neatly under my ribcage – and says I love Daylesford, I love all my gorgeous gay and lesbian fans, thank you, thank you for hiring me, I want to come back next year, PLEASE invite me back next year, I’ll negotiate on the fee . . . .

Then BABBA come on, and they whip up the crowd even further. For their encore, they sing ‘Dancing Queen, and pull Dolly Diamond and Rose Garden up on stage with them. Crowd go wilder, if possible.

6.00: Eventually the event winds down. Off to dinner, in a complete daze. Best ChillOut ever (as I say it in my closing speech I feel like Jacques Rogges), most fundraised ever. Wonderfully diverse crowd – straight, gay, young, old. This is what the world should – and one day will – look like. As I walk by to my car, people wave, shake my hand, call out “Thank you Mr President!”

That night at the Drag Gala, Dolly makes jokes about me: now that’s an accolade!

Monday: 6.00 am: Wake up shaking and shivering – aftermath of all the stress and tension. Gradually it subsides, with the help of coffea and panadeine.

9.30: Off to open the brunch at Peppers. Think I’ll skip the cool-down ceremony. Hope nothing went wrong last night at the Dance Party. One last schmooze and then home. And then I don’t want to think about ChillOut for at least a month.

Now, how do we top that next year!!

11.30: the rest of the committee drift in. Much hugging and kissing. The Joy boys turn up. More hugging and kissing. The Southern Star crew arrive. Yet more hugging and kissing.

I do an interview with The Daylesford Avdocate, Victorian Country Hour on ABC, and Southern Star.

I say goodbye. More hugging and kissing. I feel totally wasted, achey and shivery. But happy. Before I leave I tell the committee, "I don't want to hear the word ChillOut for at least a month. Jim here might last three days."

I get home. About 6pm a ChillOut email arrives from Jim. Here we go again.

All photos by Gary Trounson
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