The Awful Truth by Adrian Tame

The Awful Truth by Adrian Tame

Author:Adrian Tame
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster Australia
Published: 2020-08-04T16:00:00+00:00


* * *

Fomenting outrage is an old tabloid tactic, as old as ‘gutsy freak’ stories, or ‘Little Aussie Battler’ yarns. But sometimes, no matter how hard you try, the required degree of outrage simply isn’t forthcoming.

It was right at the heart of the Azaria Chamberlain furore when the call came through to the Truth newsroom: ‘There’s a bloke out Clayton way who’s got a bloody great statue of a dingo in his front garden, and it’s eating a baby. Bloody disgrace.’

Did our caller know the address? Bloody right he did. He even provided directions how to get there. So I set off one hot afternoon with a photographer on the scent of the concrete dingo.

The front garden, when we found it, was a madhouse. An over-crowded zoo of concrete animals, of all breeds and sizes, presided over by an army of gnomes and concrete mushrooms.

And right there, centre stage, was the dingo, a baby hanging from its jaws. Just in case you didn’t get the message, vivid red paint was smeared around the creature’s mouth.

What we needed first and foremost was a photo of the bloke responsible for this atrocity standing proudly beside it. And we weren’t going to get that by telling him how appalled we were. So I stepped gingerly through the massed ranks of gnomes and mushrooms and knocked on the front door. ‘Couldn’t help admiring your garden gnome collection,’ I told the middle-aged man who answered my knock. ‘Any chance we could take a photo?’

His chest swelled with pride, just like I’d hoped it would. So it was no problem persuading him to pose in the middle of his concrete kingdom. And the photographer knew enough to manoeuvre him close to the dingo and its grisly mouthful.

Once the picture we needed was in the bag, I changed tactics. ‘What’s this dog got in its mouth?’ I asked casually.

‘Ha, ees baby Azaria, wot you think?’ came the response.

I pretended to recoil in horror: ‘You mean that’s a statue of the dingo eating baby Azaria? Don’t you think that’s in rather doubtful taste?’

Our man instantly smelled a rat: ‘Where you say you from?’

‘I didn’t, but since you asked, we’re from Truth newspaper.’

I know, I know, that’s completely unethical, but since when did working for Truth involve anything to do with ethics?

‘You from Trute? Wot you tek me picture for then?’ He was becoming increasingly uneasy.

‘We’ve had complaints from people who’ve been offended.’ At least that was partly true.

‘Wot offended. Who ees these. Wot ’e offended by?’

‘Well I suppose it’s the dingo eating a baby,’ I explained.

A look of pained innocence crossed his face, replaced instantly by a crafty scowl.

‘Ees not dingo, ees fox. Now how you offended?’

It didn’t matter what he said, we’d got what we wanted, and it was time for the outrage. I went next door and knocked, but got no reply, so crossed the road to the house directly opposite.

A little old lady opened up and smiled sweetly at me. I told her who I was and asked what she felt about living across the road from a concrete, baby-eating dingo.



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