The Age uploaded another quality piece of journalism today, with the news that Terri Irwin attended yet another black tie event in honour of using a personal event for her family’s gain um exploiting her simian child in pursuit of publicity her late husband.
There were a few gems in the article I particularly enjoyed, in italics:
Taking to the red carpet like a reptile to water, Terri Irwin shed her khaki uniform for a ruched black sleeveless gown and the seamless aplomb of the A-listers at her side for a gala that honoured Steve Irwin’s memory yesterday.
There is no need for private grieving and the passage of time, when we have Russell Crowe:
Crowe, who greeted Irwin with a kiss: “She knows I’m there if she wants me. She can just call me, whatever it is that she might need … I can help her with.”
Oh god no:
In one scene of a video clip played in his memory, Steve Irwin was holding up a giant snake and Terri joked that it reminded her of something he used to say in the privacy of their bedroom.
And if I come across this footage on YouTube there will be trouble:
Bindi, she pointed out, had been filming all her life — literally. She said her late husband had filmed both the live births of his children.
Ewwww. And all the different levels of ew. Aside from the fact that there is way too much information here, will there be no end to the outpouring about the Irwins? Does nobody in public life ‘take a moment’ any more? Whatever happened to dignity, respect for the fruit of your own loins and privacy? I know they can’t do much about the reams of dross written about them, but do we have to hear about every tiny aspect of their grief? Every new flush of emotion?
I’m not crazy about the unnatural, over-produced child/adult they’ve made out of Bindi Irwin. But I feel sorry for the little bogan..