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A lot of sanctimonious commentary has been made about the leaking and/or content of Malcolm Turnbull's speech to the Press Gallery Mid-Winter Ball on Wednesday.
Tony Abbott's good mate Greg Sheridan, for example, harrumphed in The Australian that it was an "unbelievably, staggeringly bad call" for the Prime Minister to take the mickey out of Donald Trump, given the US President was so "astonishingly thin-skinned".
"Some things are so stupid that only brilliant people could do them," Sheridan wrote. Ouch.
Conservative commentator Andrew Bolt also condemned the PM, saying the speech demonstrated why he was a disastrous leader of the Liberal Party.
"He sucked up to a left-wing audience by bashing a conservative," Bolt opined on his blog.
"He put his popularity among the Left above the national interest. Oh, and he bumgled (sic) the whole thing."
Lighten up, folks.
The Prime Minister's speech was terrific. It was as good, if not better, than Julia Gillard's memorable effort in 2013. But more of that later.
Yes, the PM mimicked the US President. But as piss-takes go, Mr Turnbull's chief target was himself. It was suitably self-deprecating, good humour.
Journalists all worked up over Oakes's 'leak'
The world of journalism also got itself into a tiswas over the rights or wrongs of veteran correspondent Laurie Oakes airing leaked excerpts of the PM's speech.
Even if the tone of Oakes's story on the Nine Network was rather curmudgeonly — sorry, Laurie — I'm certainly in no position to be censorious about its publication.
I have to admit it: I'm somewhat of a sinner too. Again, more on that later.
There's always been something a bit strained and unrealistic about the Mid-Winter Ball being "off-the-record" when the audience is 600-odd journalists, lobbyists, industry types, political staffers and all manner of professional gasbags, all of whom are on the turps.
And in recent years, the night — like everything nowadays, it seems — is instantly diarised on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter by those people who tend to live a digital life as much as a real one. We all know people like that.
Consequently, most people are on their best behaviour. Not that there isn't some misbehaviour, such as the notorious breast fondling in 2009 by a staffer of ex-Liberal MP Sophie Mirabella.
That same night, Mr Turnbull (then Opposition leader) turned on prime minister Kevin Rudd's economic adviser Andrew Charlton, allegedly telling him not to "lie to protect your boss" in the so-called Utegate affair. Grainy photos emerged of the confrontation.
The idea that what happens at the ball stays at the ball is challenged every year.
It is an event that has, time and again, proven to be highly influential on events outside the Great Hall.
A work night in fancy frocks
All-in-all, it's a work night, albeit with nice frocks, champagne and in the name of charity ($3.8 million and counting).
Great moments of political drama happen there.
In 2010, with his leadership haemorrhaging as a result of his battle with the big miners over the resources super profits tax, Mr Rudd used his speech to elevate hostilities.
He told guests that at the back of the room there was a "bonfire" and that by the end of the night guests would find him, treasurer Wayne Swan and resources minister Martin Ferguson strung up above it by the Minerals Council.
"Can I say, guys, we've got a very long memory, " Mr Rudd told the guests.
The next week, his prime ministership was dead.
Three years later, under the cover of the ball, Mr Rudd slipped away from the Fairfax table near the back of the room to have secret talks over the Labor leadership with Bill Shorten.
The next week, it was Ms Gillard's prime ministership that was dead and Mr Rudd was back.
A good roast ought to be shared
Ms Gillard had seen it coming. Her Mid-Winter Ball speech was an astonishing performance.
This supposedly off-the-record speech was more a public denunciation of her would-be assassins and a declaration of non-surrender.
She likened the evening to one of television's bloodiest and brutal scenes from hit US fantasy drama Games of Thrones.
"I'm very pleased to be here tonight," Ms Gillard began. "And can I say I haven't seen such a festive scene since the Red Wedding episode of Game of Thrones, which is slightly worrisome because it was pretty hard to get the chain mail on under this costume, let me tell you."
Did Ms Gillard expect her speech to remain unreported? Certainly not. To the contrary. She wanted the plotters known.
On that vexed question of off-the-record, perhaps I sinned. I published, like some others, albeit in print. It was a historic moment to be recorded, as this Four corners episode captures well (four minutes in).
She combined sharp humour with velvet-edged venom.
"The gender wars, you know it's not been an easy time in politics. It's not that I get offended, it's just the sheer irrationality of it, " she said.
"There's Tony Abbott, out standing next to a sign that says 'Ditch the Witch'. There's Alan Jones on radio saying, 'Why doesn't Julia Gillard get put in a chaff bag and thrown out to sea?' and you feel like ringing up and saying, 'For God's sake, Alan, don't you know you can't drown a witch!'."
But back to Wednesday night. Would Mr Turnbull have said what he said about Donald Trump if he knew it would leak? Perhaps not.
But from here on, let's televise the speeches. A good roast ought to be shared.
Hell, the Australian people might even think better of our leaders having heard them.
Topics: government-and-politics, turnbull-malcolm, donald-trump, journalism, information-and-communication, internet-culture, social-media, australia