I guess I brought it on myself, writing a play in which Paris Hilton is an intellectually rigorous thinker obsessed with the big ethical questions and the larger political inequities of international capitalism. Thank you to everyone who has pointed out this article, wherein Paris heads inevitably towards the Paris I dreamed of all those months ago.

Somehow, it seems different when she does it in real life. Possibly because she has not yet used to word "poststructural".

In other news, tomorrow I have to buy myself a new laptop, to replace my broken one: a task I cannot afford and do not have the expertise to carry out alone. This is where my bevvy of nerds comes in handy. I have a herd of nerds. A nerd herd. They are as follows:

1. Stewart, who is currently suffering from a baby disease known as "croup", which, according to Wikipedia, involves a "barking cough" or a "seal-like bark". My sister, who is of a more literary bent, described the cough as "positively Dickensian", which is also true, although he has ignored my suggestions that he lean over a steaming hot tub of water and inhale the steam by candlelight and possibly with the assistance of a strange old man who turns out to be his benefactor.

It must be noted that I, too, suffered from a baby disease at one point (that being slap-face) and that I both sympathise and reserve to right to make outrageously insensitive jokes, on account of having "been there". Much like those who went to 'Nam.

2. Nerd #2 is my old Friend Ablain, who is the reason I passed "Info Tech" in High School, and who gets text messages like "how big is a hundred meg?" when Stewart is at the movies.

3. The sub-nerds. A bloke at my work. A friend called NAME REPLACED FOR LEGAL REASONS who is very handy for REASONS REPLACED FOR LEGAL REASONS. Others, seas of them, you know who you are.

But the problem with nerds is: they never agree. They are knowledgeable and hence obsessive and loyal to their favourite products/shops/software. If you say, "Mac or PC?" in a room full of nerds, you should probably equip yourself with some fairly sturdy weaponry more or less immediately (nerds are usually ninjas).

So tommorrow I expect I will take Stew along, or else keep him on speed dial so he can yelp his seal-like bark into the ear of the supplier who will no doubt see us both coming and wheel out the most expensive thing anyone has ever heard of, and assure Stew (who will assure me) that I would be insane to go for anything less than this futuristic spacecraft, with these add-ons and this extra three year expensive warrantee, which will lapse three days before the thing break downs for good.

Then, of course, I will require "time to think about it" and will ask the rest of the Nerd Herd, who will give me twenty-seven conflicting and equally frightening hypothetical problems with my original position, which will result in a nerd stand-off reminiscent of the "Final Cut Pro" wars of 2006 (don't get me started).

And some people just go to the shops and come back with a laptop.

I tell you who might be embarrassed right now?

The cops who interviewed Dr Haneef. The transcript of their interview of him was released to the public yesterday, and it wasn't exactly damning of anyone - more of a boring night in the cop shop by the looks of things.

So the cops won't be embarrassed because of how they treated him (they followed all the rules and had breaks so he could pray and eat and rest - hell, they even joked around a little bit at one particularly hilarious point when Haneef's lawyer had a coughing fit) but they might be a bit embarrassed because they spent probably eighty percent of the interview trying to work out:

- What's this Islam thing then, eh?

- Can you spell that for me?

- Here's a piece of paper. Can you write that down?

- Am I saying that right? I'm not, am I?

- And that's in India, is it?

... and, my favourite series of questions:

- Yahoo groups. What's that? That's an internet thing is it, the Yahoo groups? And what do you need in order to use that? You send photos and messages? It's a message group, is that right? It's a chat room?

... You're just desperate for one of their kids to come in and go, "Dad, gawd, you're so embarrassing. It's not THE yahoo groups, and it's not something you SEND photos through, it's... Never mind. Shove over. Let me ask the questions."

And then, last night, Kevin Andrews gets on the telly and says that this Dr Haneef character was talking to people in a computer room, by which he means chat room, and that the things he said in the chat room are things we're not allowed to know about. Ever.

Do the authorities not have computers? Is there anyone under thirty anywhere who can help these people? They're not exactly going to crack the crime syndicates if they don't know what a Yahoo Group is, are they.

Otherwise, though, props to the cops for following protocol and being nice to the doctor. It's more than most people have managed.

When asked to comment on the otherwise unremarkable story about Kevin Rudd having attended a strip club, Peter Beattie, the Premiere of Queensland, said that he thought it might even good for the Opposition Leader's ratings because it "proves he's got blood in his veins".

This reminded me of something.

It reminded me of the stereotyping we learned about when we studied rape cases in criminal law. The "red-blooded male" who was just doing what came naturally. It took hundreds of years (and we're still squinting if we think we're there) before the common law realised that "red blooded" blokes acting in a boys-will-be-boys kind of comraderie is not a biological fact that need not be deconstructed or examined. The relative self-control of each gender when it comes to any form of human behaviour has not so far been proven a biologically determined trait. Or at least, not so far as the courts now see it.

Of course, Kevin Rudd merely went to a sleazy bar. Apart from using tax payers' time to go on a bender and engage in some not-exactly-feminist entertainment, he didn't transgress anyone's individual freedom or commit any crime. Men and women go to sleazy bars all the time and nobody gives a crap, but the idea that he somehow gave in to his natural macho yearning because he has "blood in his veins" is a bit dangerous. Or, maybe the language itself is dangerous, because I've heard it before and it's assuming a few things I don't think can be substantiated.

By the way, it looks like Beattie was right. Brendan Nelson's gone "ME TOO! I went to a strip club too!" Doesn't make much of a case for the clientelle in these bars does it. Full of politicians. Gross.

The ABC has run with "Woman Appointed to High Court" as their headline today.

Reminds me of Simpsonsesque headlines such as "Crazed Albino Monkey Appointed Speaker In Parliament".

Funny that they didn't run with "Government-Approved Political Conservative Appointed to High Court"... but then who am I to judge. I'm a woman.

How glorious must it feel to gain national press coverage for stirring the foreign minister into accusing a seventeen year old of being a Labor Party hack... I know it's the kind of thing I used to dream of when I was at school.

Check it out.

A Canberra Times article opens with the delicious sentence: "In an astonishing outburst, Foreign Minister Alexander Downer yesterday accused a 17-year-old Canberra schoolboy of being a stooge for the Labor Party."

... but my favourite is the closer from the Sydney Morning Herald:

Alexander later made a point of shaking Mr Downer's hand and denied being affiliated with any political party. He said he thought the minister was being a "bit paranoid".

Apeeeheeee!

I reckon Alex is right on the money.

PS Why is this TV show not in regular prime time?

Sometimes, the Melbourne Film Festival lets you down. Of course it does. If it didn't, it would be peopled entirely by the same demographic. This is not the case. Sometimes it's a comedy film and there's a comedy crowd. Sometimes it's a religious film and it's full of people wearing tiny gold icons under their windcheaters. Sometimes it's a music documentary and there are people in heavy metal t shirts wandering in with popcorn.

But it doesn't let ME down often, because it's fairly hard to let me down. It's fairly difficult for me not to find even the bits that I don't find interesting kind of... interesting... on account of the fact that someone else is finding them interesting.

Anyhoo. So there's this friend of mine. I spend each festival thinking, "Oh, she would have LOVED that film! That film was MADE for her!"

Then she calls me up and says, "Can I trail along to one of your films?" and I say "Oh, you're going to WET YOUR PANTS this film will be SO GOOD".

Anyway, last year she came to three. Two of them were terrible. I only saw two truly terrible films last year. One of them was so badly projected we got our money back. The third film? Ace. Unreal. Really excellent.

Which is why I thought it would be safe to assume I could "let her trail along" tonight to see a film about... well, now, that would be telling.

It was a film that should be shown to anyone who thinks they're creative, because it's an interesting eight minute film. It went for two hours. It's a film that teaches people that you should always edit more than you think you should out of whatever it is you're creating.

My friend is beginning to think she is cursed.

Otherwise today I saw Eagle vs Shark, a New Zealand film, which was gorgeous and hilarious and which is on again on August 12. Funny as hell.

The last film I saw today was about Alexander Litvinenko, I am SURE I am spelling that wrong but I'm too tired to even use google... Anyway I have written here previously about him and I've always been fascinated by his story and the connections between Putin and the secret service/death squads/terrorism within Russia. Anyway, wow. Writers and people who say things about politics that people in power don't like can get themselves into some serious trouble in some countries.

Good to remember when you're complaining about deadlines. Which I will hereby refrain from doing. Good night.

There's a vigil today in the city, in Melbourne, to mark the fifth anniversary of Australian man David Hicks being detained without trial in Guantanamo Bay.

I know, I know. Heavy topic to start with, but sometimes I stop and think about stuff, and today this is what stopped me.

The Americans are taking a "hard line", suggesting that the five years Hicks has already spent in Guantanamo won't be taken into account in any sentencing.

Whether or not David Hicks is a dangerous terrorist, there aren't many people I can think of who have been detained without trial in secret conditions for secret reasons by the most powerful democracy in the world, at any point in history. Rapists, mass murderers, dictators such as Pinochet and Saddam... all subject to a legal system (whether we like it or not).

It strikes me as quite bizarre that a country where citizens demand adherance to a constitutionally entrenched right to carry a gun can't recognise that giving someone a "right" or a "freedom" can result in the system imploding (give someone a right to carry a gun, they shoot someone. Give someone a right to a fair trial, that person is freed in twenty years and offends again). But the alternative is that there is no system at all.

Watching the play of 1984 this year at the Arts Festival in Melbourne, I realised that the reason I found it so depressing was that reality doesn't survive the comparison.

Now, consider this: the two Melbourne newspapers have the same story as their homepage online at the moment. Colour photographs, gushing press: Kylie has been voted the second most famous person in Britain after the Queen. Voted. Most famous. Kylie. Queen.

Do we think The Age and The Herald Sun are being satirical? Are they subverting the dominant paradigm? Is this a really hilarious joke about perspective? Or is reality really that much more insane and surreal than art could ever hope to be? I'm going with the former.