Hard-on you say? I'm glad you mention it. I love a good hard on.

Caught a room full of them last Thursday morning on the tube, packed like a flock of geese into a pizza box they were; confined space stiffies.

A little more information you ask? Fine. Attach a journalist to the end of each hard on, throw a shitload of camera and recording equipment into the mix, a sheila or three for equal rights purposes, and a live feed hook up to the entire country.

Enter ALP Senator Michael Forshaw. It’s 9:15, and he drop's a humdinger: the Wranger’s in charge. It’s all a bit much for me at this point, as I’m hungover off my ass from Newshit drinks the night before.  

Gillard press conference at 11:00 - no wait, Rudd conference first, in the courtyard. The journo pack swarms outside, Mark Simkin trips over his own erection. You could feel the excitement crackling through the television set. Everything was up in the air, the press gallery and nation alike swept up in the hysteria of 'what the fuck is going on?'

Half the fun was flicking through the feeds, appraising each networks coverage of the unfolding events. ABC, who broke the story the night before, despite some decent analysis were dogshit boring as usual. Nine kept things interesting with a variety of commentators, while Channel 10 conceded they were out of their league, and did what they did best; hair removal products.

Aaah, Federal politics. The national arena of rivalry, scandal, hypocrisy, and mind-boggling incompetency: Journalistic paradise. In the tradition of unfair juxtaposition, I present to you this column’s muse: your local council. 

Responsible for local issues like car parks, domestic animals and public toilets, there’s always some form of council consultation process going on that’s in the ‘local public interest’, rendering it newsworthy. It’s got all the basic ingredients of state and federal politics, with the absence of a 'shadow government' made up by 'outraged community members'. 

It's just...well...a little TOO basic:

‘Zebra crossing approval sparks community protest’ Bang! Story on a plate.

‘Community concerns of council rate rise’ Shazaam! Would you like council documents with that?

How do journalists find motivation for this stuff? It’s simply impossible to get excited about.

Admittedly, I felt a flutter in the groinal region when a local councillor quit amid bullying claims, but it was quickly nailed to a bag of frozen carrots with the following week’s headline ‘Community Concerns Heard on Zebra Crossing’. Three out of four editions of my local rag feature council related headline articles without fail, with the letters to the editor in rant overdrive; full of crazy, the only area of mild stimulation.

With state and federal politics, politicians are constantly in the public sphere – they develop public personalities from which journalists and readers alike feed off. You don’t just slag off at a policy, there’s a particular face behind it at which you can fling the proverbial shit. 

While every council has its fair share of misfits worth ridiculing, they simply don't get enough media coverage to develop a public personality worth working with. The pecking orders which make any organisational hierarchy interesting are left in the private sphere. Councillors aren't referred to in headlines by name, because no one knows who you're talking about.

Which leaves journos the continuous feed of policy announcements, development approvals: and the hecklers at community consultation meetings to report on. Like sitting mindlessly in front of the TV when you could be reading Christopher Hitchens' new book, it’s just so easy to get sucked into:

My first two assessment pieces for first year journo practice at Monash: council related. In lecture, TWO THIRDS of the room raised their hand when asked if their story involved the council.

While in class, the tutor hears student concerns, who were struggling for a story. Does she suggest hitting the waterholes, and find out what’s really getting up the locals’ goats? Or checking in for a scalp massage, and squeezing some local juice from the hairdressing gold mine of gossip?

She injects some inspirational brilliance into the room: ‘Are the any local developments going up which people aren’t happy about?’

I may as well make my headline 'AIN'T GOT ANGLE ON SHIT' it’s the number one cause for newsroom impotence, but I guess someone’s gotta do it. 

If you get your kicks reporting on council repertoire, knock yourself out. I'm happy for you, I really am.

 (I'm not really)

 Fisher & Price political journalism. Castrate me now. 

Let’s finish up with a moment of thought for local government: 

When you dob in the six Vietnamese vegetable pickers living in your neighbour's back shed, the AFP gets all the door-kicking perks. You dob in your neighbour for having SIX chickens when the allowed max is FOUR? The council is all over that infringement like a bad rash. I peek over the fence as they kick the chicken coop door in, as they fantasise busting a meth lab. 

 The council: we'd be fucked without them.