The wilful ruin of Bindi Irwin continues unchecked. And it’s not just Germaine Greer, myself and healthcare professionals who are vexed.
Readers of the New Idea are sweating too.
As gifted sociologists will attest, any poll by the noted journal can only deliver data of quality. Particularly if you’re interested in the views of thwarted hausfraus who (a) know the names and s-xual histories of everyone in Summer Bay (b) wed hobbyist menfolk who maintain a modest Meth lab in the backyard.
Just under one year ago, respondents to a New Idea survey overwhelmingly applauded Terri Irwin’s stump dumb approach to parenting. News Corp reported:
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93 per cent of readers believe Bindi should follow her father’s wildlife crusades as the next “Crocodile Huntress”.
Today, Mrs New Idea is not so keen on Bindi’s prospects. This could be due to a rough year wherein Summer Bay widow Sally Fletcher was stabbed. And then, of course, Mrs New Idea’s own inamorato Axl burnt himself in a home-crafted Ice experiment.
I haven’t actually seen the questions that respondents were asked. But I imagine they were along the lines of, “If no one stops Terri, do you think Bindi Irwin will end up (a) pregnant at 13 (b) performing Exotic Dance at a fetid bar in Krakow where life is such a relentless grind that she actually looks forward to those nights where businessmen snort metres of Bogota’s finest export through a crisp Euro from her chest or (c) a successful fashion entrepreneur?”
Anyhoo, apparently an increased number of survey respondents want to see Bindi concentrate a little harder on her schooling and a little less on her father’s legacy.
This latter imperative, in fact, would be nice for all of us. Because, try as we might to enunciate the resonance of Bindi’s father Steve, there’s really not a lot there. (He did, I seem to recall, purchase tracts of land with his fortune and leave these untrammelled for sundry wildlife to defile as is the wonderful, natural wont of wildlife. That’s nice.)
Even though we cringed at Greer’s impeccably poor timing last year, you have to concede: Nanna had a point. He was a base and hyper real version of Australian manhood that made many of us uncomfortable. He may not have had a meth lab but he did have the talent for making Australians look like idiots.
If you cannot stand critique of Irwin as an artefact and miss his presence in the culture, don’t worry. Even if Bindi does end up taking that gig in Poland, little Bob Irwin is currently delighting punters by parroting his dead father’s catch phrases.
If you’re not phoning Welfare, I will.