One in One

Secreted away in Rocco’s little piece of Barcelona with my heart-starter double mac, I have been watching the ABC’s version of a morning show.

As per usual, it’s a couple – a man and a woman – doing a talkathon. But unlike the commercial channels she is not blonde. And they both look sort of odd for the role; the ABC marketing department’s attempt to promote the appearance of substance over appearances.

I can’t hear it (usefully, Rocco has ABBA’s greatest hits playing) but the closed captions are on, in all their wonderful mistake ridden glory.

This morning I have learnt that:

In any year 1 in 25 Australians will have a mental illness and 2 in 25 will suffer anxiety.

1 in 3 victims of family violence is male. Someone got the Victorian Australian (sic) of the year award for this. I disliked her on the spot – I can spot a self-deluded self-server a long way off; it’s in the smile.

1 in 4 Australians feel negative about a Muslim poll.

I get anxiety after my fourth double mac – so I am one of the 2 in 25. My daughter, when she is really mad, is happy to hit me (she always has). The habit is waning with age, but it does make me one of the 1 in 3. I don’t know what the Muslim poll is but there’s probably the dead hand of Alan Jones in there somewhere, so I feel negative about it without even knowing. So count me in the 1 in 4.

Ya see? Lies and damn statistics. Who would have guessed we would waste all our excess wealth and time on fear and anxiety instead of wine and women?

Here’s another stat that you can’t argue with. 1 in 1 Australians is a fucking Wally for buying this shit.