Maybe it is Nurry time again? It’s never Scourfield time.
With the high dollar making overseas travel more affordable, the unfortunate consequence is that local tourism suffers. Can I suggest that Stephen Scourfield be sponsored by WA tourism to stifle international travel? Nothing could be more of a disincentive to visit an overseas location than Mr Scourfield spreading his leaden blanket of banality over a place of interest. I was quite intending to book tickets to Burma until I read Mr Scourfield’s piece last week. The thought that he would have worn that hat all through Rangoon after making inconsequential notes that he could have written in the aircraft bog before arriving has soured (or perhaps Scoured) the place forever for me. Now I’m packing my bags for The Pinnacles, Wave Rock and El Caballo Blanco.
Rottnest doesn’t need an accommodation upgrade to attract more bookings – just a feature on Bali by Stephen Scourfield.
Perhaps the one positive thing about the weekend shark attack was that it occurred too late for Paul Murray to write a column labelling it a Greens conspiracy and white pointers “loopy”. Perhaps next week?
Instead Mr Murray interrupts his constant cheerleading for the Liberal Party to attack university taverns.
One constant in Mr Murray’s columns – apart from his arse numbingly boring writing style, the paragraphs clagged with 1970s cliches and his habit of cutting and pasting vast quotes to pad out his pompous drone – is his anti university stance. Just why is Mr Murray so agin higher education? You get the impression he is some kind of bitter university dropout who, because he couldn’t hack it, left for the ivory towers of journalism, where ignorance of a subject doesn’t prevent pontificating. If the issue wasn’t connected to a university, Mr Murray would be calling “nanny state” on this one – or, as Paul himself might put it: “While walking my dog around Allen Park, I, At first blush, found that this this loopy nanny statism comes from cloud cuckoo land (cut and paste 250 word quote).”
C’mon Mr Murray, these people are adults and, like the journalist who has to decide whether to hit the newspaper cafeteria’s bain-marie for a fourth Chiko Roll, can make their own decisions.