Had I asked that question a decade ago, the answer would probably have been “yes”.

But the C-bomb has been blowing up in the strangest of places – like the Facebook page of archconservative Lisa Oldfield, wife of right-wing radio broadcaster David Oldfield.

The wife of another 2ue broadcaster, John Stanley, had tweeted that Oldfield’s show was “shite”.

Lisa responded by posting this question: “Can someone tell me why John Stanley’s wife is such a c…?”

In an interview with the Daily Telegraph, she admitted her choice of language was inappropriate.

“I probably shouldn’t have dropped the C-bomb but I am just very angry.”

Days later, pop star Rihanna took to Twitter, calling US rapper KATT a c*#t, outraging many of her three million followers.

It made me wonder: Is social media softening this erstwhile edgy word?

The issue has divided feminists since the 1970s, but it was in common usage long before that.

This is from a manuscript written in the 14^th century: 3eue bi cunte to cunnig and craue affetir wedding (Give your c*#t wisely and make your demands after the wedding).

It was later used in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales but the context was bawdy, not offensive.

By Shakespeare’s day it was considered rather rude. In the play Hamlet, the main character cheekily refers to “country matters” with the emphasis firmly on the first syllable.

James Joyce was one of the first 20^th century authors to put the word into print, in his masterpiece Ulysses: “Now it could bear no more. Dead: an old woman’s: the grey sunken c*#t of the world. Desolation.”

I was first exposed to the word through the brilliant Derek and Clive dialogues from Peter Cook and Dudley Moore. In their 1976 sketch “This Bloke Came Up To Me”, c*#t is repeated more than 30 times.

I thought it was one of the funniest things I’d ever heard.

Many language lovers find the use of swear words lazy; somehow lacking in creativity.

But I love them.

I enjoy watching a small word elicit a big response.

It is especially potent coming from the mouth of an otherwise elegant lady.

Feminists, though, remain divided.

In the 1970s Catharine MacKinnon argued that the word dehumanises women by reducing them to mere body parts.

But Germaine Greer, who once wrote a magazine article entitled “Lady, Love Your C*#t”, suggested there was something precious about a word that still retains the power to shock.

Some feminists want to reclaim c*#t in the same way that “queer” is embraced by the gay community.

Why should a word describing women’s genitalia be considered the worst insult in the English language?

“Dick” – with its many and varied suffixes – is used with little of the venom associated with its female counterpart.

In an interview with Rolling Stone magazine, singer Rob Thomas enthuses: “C*#t is one of my favourite swear words. I say it only around men, but I love it.”

A paradox, n’est-ce pas?

Interestingly, the use of the word in popular culture is predominantly in shows aimed at women, from Sex and the City to the Vagina Monologues.

So ladies, embrace your c*#ts (figuratively or literally, whatever floats your boat).

Let it be a symbol of power, rather than profanity.

And why are you offering your best wishes? It’s not my birthday.

I enjoy ‘cheers’, but it makes me feel like a drink, even in the morning (and that can’t be good).

How you sign off your emails shows more about your personality than you realise.

‘Warm regarders’ tend to be touchy-feely types who used to watch Oprah (but are now ‘turning’ for Ellen), do scrapbooking and believe in reiki.

If aged over 40, she’s an eccentric middle-aged lady, draped in purple, muttering quietly to herself.

The under-40s are PR babes with too-white teeth and poker-straight blonde hair, pretending they have a heart.

CEOs aren’t too comfortable with this on their signature block, especially in the current economic climate.

“Dear (insert name here),

Sorry to turf you out on the street, but someone had to pay for my $1.8m bonus.

Warm Regards,

Sue Morphet,

CEO Pacific Brands

P.S. Hope you enjoyed the hot cross buns.

Netiquette experts (“O brave new world, That has such people in’t!”) say ‘Kind regards’ or ‘Best wishes’ are the most professional options.

Some mix it up, using the clunky ‘Best regards’, often shortened to BRGDS.

It took me ages to work out that this doesn’t mean Bloody Ridiculous Gassy Dip Sh*t.

Let’s be honest: you’re not conveying your best regards if you can’t take .02 of a second to type an extra seven letters.

One email I received last week ended with VBW (Very Best Wishes), which I thought was Very Bloody Wanky.

Academics tend to use one simple word – ‘Best’.

It’s kinda ironic, given that the preceding email probably took 400 words to say what most people could say in four.

Perhaps it’s a subconscious way of saying “I’m the best, just ask me”.

I always thought ‘cheers’ was a fun, inoffensive option until a friend confessed that she immediately deletes all emails with this sign-off.

“You’re not one of those ‘cheers’ girls are you?” she gasped in horror. “I can’t stand those people! We’re not in a shout at a pub. It’s unprofessional.” Oops.

Even more telling than the sign-off is the signature block.

A hilarious email doing the rounds begins with the name of a constable from Victoria Police in royal blue, 24-point flowery script, followed by ‘Dux of Academy Squad’.

The subsequent email trail reveals the laconic humour of the boys in blue, as each response lowers the bar of achievement.

A sergeant from Tennant Creek proudly signs off as ‘Second fastest grade four student at Trafalgar Primary School over the 80 yard dash – 1984’.

Another boasts he’s the ‘9^th fastest one finger typist west of the Victorian border’.

My personal favourite is:

Reece Baldwin

Senior Constable 2375

Computer Crime Unit

Northern Territory Police

‘Biggest head in Computer Crime’.

The technical term for sending bloated, clichéd or annoying signature blocks is ‘warlording’, with ‘sig quotes’ fast becoming the bumper stickers of the 21^st century.

Gen Ys are the worst offenders, inserting inspirational quotes – “Excellence is its own reward” – at the end of emails full of grammatical and spelling errors.

“Jazz comes from who you are, where you’ve been, what you’ve done. If you don’t live it, it won’t come out your horn”. (Name supplied but withheld due to risk of ridicule.)

So what’s the answer? How do you end your emails without being a complete nob?

Busy colleagues sign off with their initials, but that just confirms tosser status.

The most important thing is the content of the email. Your respect, regards and wishes should be evident from what’s in the body copy, not the tag at the end.

Ditto those annoying emoticons. I get the joke, OK? J I don’t need canned laughter to signal the punch line. L

One friend can’t bear it when “people start playing with the background of their emails, or getting creative with the text so that you get flashing lights or marching ants or some cute bloody bunny which hops across the screen. To me, any of those things convey the mind of someone who should be colouring by numbers, or someone with way too much time on their hands!”

So, in conclusion,

Warm regards,

Best wishes,

Cheers,

Get a mullet up ya!

Trace

X

Tracey Spicer is a journalist, newsreader, media trainer, MC and keynote speaker with The Fordham Company.

www.thefordhamcompany.com.au

As you may know, Saturday was International Talk Like a Pirate Day.

In honour of this important occasion, I have compiled a list of federal pollies and their pirate alter-egos.

Your job is to decide who walks the plank (aside from me, of course, for indulging in scatological humour at the expense of our dear leaders).

In alphabetical order:

Tony Abbot: Long John Silver

Raving, wheedling, bullying, plotting, yarning pirate who strutted around with a parrot* on his shoulder.

Ostensibly a hardworking seaman but, as the plot unfolds, his villainous nature is revealed.

*Alan Jones

Bob Brown: William Turner Jnr*

Dislikes his fellow pirates, but is forced to negotiate with them.

Loyal to causes he cares about, and would risk everything to defend them.

An exceptional swordsman, but lacks real combat experience.

*The character played by Orlando Bloom** in Pirates of the Caribbean.

**This in no way implies that Orlando Bloom is gay (despite that great song by The Hazzards http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r6kwkq7NVws).

Julie Bishop and Tanya Pliberseck: Wenches

Allowed to give head*.

Not allowed to ask questions.

*When pouring beer (puerile joke #1)

Peter Garrett: Captain Jack Sparrow

A morally ambiguous, fictitious character based on a rock star.

Although he will fight if necessary, tries to flee most dangerous situations.

Julia Gillard: Redbeard*

Dominated the Seven Seas for decades.

More than his skills as a sailor, it was Redbeard’s appreciation for politics that explained his longevity.

Reputedly led a crew of vampire-sailors**, who sucked the lifeblood from their enemies.

*Only if the collar matches the cuffs (puerile joke #2).

**Also known for sucking the oxygen from Question Time.

Brendan Nelson: Captain Blood

A physician unlawfully convicted of treason.

Craves adventure, yet searches for the security of home.

As a pirate he is “chivalrous to the point of idiocy”.

Later pardoned and awarded the coveted position of governor.

Christopher Pyne: Captain Feathersword*

An effeminate pirate who spends much of his time prancing about and squealing.

Loves a good party and making people giggle.

An object of ridicule on the high seas.

*Or Wags the Dog.

Wilson Tuckey: Blackbeard*.

One is widely thought to be insane.

The other is a famous pirate.

*Legend has it that his enemies cut Blackbeard’s throat, but he did not die. Then the pirates stabbed him with a sword, but he did not die. They shot him 13 times but still, he did not die. Then they cut off his head, but his body swam around the ship 14 times.

A sobering thought.

Malcolm Turnbull: Captain Hook

Doomed to be forever thwarted by Peter Pan*.

Thought he was dealt a winning hand with the demise of Captain Blood** only to have it cut off by that infernal Pan.

His hand was subsequently thrown to the crocodiles***.

*Kevin Rudd

**Brendan Nelson

***Media

Penny Wong: Mary Read

Tough and canny pirate who spent much of her life dressing as a man.

Even after her gender was revealed, she was accepted among the pirate crew.

OK – that’s it – I’m off to walk the plank.

For a bit of fun, check out the random pirate name generator at http://www.stltoday.com/mds/entertainment/html/1832

Tracey Spicer is a journalist, MC, media trainer, Daily Telegraph newspaper columnist and anchor with Sky News. Her pirate name is Mad Mary Jane the Bloody.

These forgotten people of northwest China are the Tibetans the world doesn’t care about.

It might be because they’re Muslims.

Or that their name is hard to pronounce (WEE-ger).

Perhaps it’s because the history of the region, which the Chinese call Xinjiang and the Uyghurs call East Turkestan, is too goddam complicated.

But like their Buddhist counterparts in the southwest, these gentle artistic people are the victims of cultural genocide and systematic slaughter.

It began when the People’s Liberation Army stormed into the resource-rich region in 1949.

A year later, Chinese forces invaded Tibet.

In the decades since, Han Chinese have flooded the so-called ‘autonomous regions’, precipitating widespread repression and brutality.

Dissidents are routinely tortured and executed.

Young women forced to have abortions.

Cultural treasures destroyed in Kashgar.

A thousand years ago, the northern and southern branches of the Silk Road converged at this oasis town. The historic Old City is now about to be razed.

Nightly infomercials feature happy Uyghurs dancing in front of their new concrete apartments, the voiceover intoning that citizens will “completely experience the care and warmth of the party”.

Gotta love communist propaganda.

It’s the Cultural Revolution all over again. What a great leap forward.

Last year, the world reacted with horror at the brutal Chinese crackdown on Buddhist protesters in Tibet.

Yet the death of hundreds of civilians and arrest of thousands of Uyghurs in Xinjiang early this month has been met with resounding silence from the West.

The masters of the semiotics of spin, Chinese authorities are blaming ‘separatists’.

Oh, I get it. Because they’re mussies, they must be terrorists.

Because a bunch of Uyghurs has just been released from Gitmo, they all must be mates of Osama.

(China made similar accusations prior to the Beijing Olympics, tarring the moderate Islamic Uyghurs with the brush of fundamentalism.)

The Chinese government yesterday ramped up the rhetoric, calling on the diaspora to unite around the Communist Party on the basis of “blood lineage” (the only good Chinese is a Han Chinese) and spread the “truth” about separatism in Xinjiang.

This is clearly aimed at distracting attention from reports that 20,000 Chinese troops are heading to the region to carry out mass executions.

Fearing a repeat of the citizen journalism campaign during the deadly riots in Iran, China has cut access to mobile phones and the internet.

But not before the release of footage of a lone Uyghur woman with a crutch challenging armoured personnel carriers, echoing the iconic image from Tiananmen Square in 1989.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/video/2009/jul/07/uighur-confront-china-troops

The world is slowly waking up to the oppression of this ethnic minority.

They finally have a voice, in the form of exiled Uyghur activist Rebiya Kadeer who lives in the United States.

She’s kinda cute, like the Dalai Lama, and they share a love of quirky hats.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KMijnjrXipQ

http://www.csmonitor.com/2009/0712/p06s07-wogn.html

The ‘Mother of the Uyghurs’ spent five years in a Chinese prison, so there’s a branding opportunity as the new Aung San Suu Kyi.

Surely there’s a Hollywood celebrity with a bleeding heart and fading star who’d support this worthy, yet fledgling, cause?

So, at your next inner-city dinner party, get with the Zeitgeist and say you’re concerned about the plight of the Uyghur people.

Tibet is so last year.

In honour of International Talk Like a Pirate Day on the weekend, I’ve compiled a list of federal pollies and their … alter-egos.

Feel free to add at will.

Julia Gillard: Redbeard/Bluebeard: Puerile cuffs and collar jokes aside (hee hee), … Oruc … was an extremely successful and clever pirate who could …. Unfortunately, he was also a smart-arse who …..

Malcolm Turnbull: Captain Hook, forever thwarted by that infernal Peter Pan, Kevin Rudd. Thought he was dealt a pretty good hand upon becoming Opposition Leader, only to watch the evr-… Pan cut it off.

Blackbeard…?

Blackbeard would plunder merchant ships, forcing them to allow his crew to board their ship. The pirates would seize all of the valuables, food, liquor, and weapons. Despite his ferocious reputation, there are no verified accounts of him actually killing anyone.^[10] He deliberately cultivated his barbaric reputation, and so could prevail by terror alone.^[11]

Captain Jack Sparrow?

Sparrow is the Pirate Lord of the Caribbean Sea and can be treacherous, surviving mostly by using wit and negotiation rather than weapons and force; although he will fight if necessary, he tries to flee most dangerous situations

Bob Brown: Will Turner, played by Orlando Bloom* in Pirates of the Carribean. Dislikes fellow pirates, but negotiaties with them to .

(This is no way implies that Orlando Bloom is gay. Not that there’s anything wrong with that)

Christopher Pyne: Captain Feathersword from the Wiggles. Or Wags the Dog, if he was a poodle.

Julie Bishop, Tanya Plibersick (research the others who tried to say something last week): Various wenches who don’t deserve to have a voice in the house. See question time last …

Its incorrect insertion could mean the difference between life and death.

And it’s fighting for its very existence.

I’m referring to the apostrophe; specifically, the possessive apostrophe.

Even its proper name – saxon genitive – sounds more like a sexually transmitted disease than the pinnacle of punctuation.

Philistines and purists are waging war on the web, about whether this much-maligned mark should be banned.

One council in the U-K has erased the little fellas from signs referring to areas such as Kings Norton, Druids Heath and St Pauls Square because staff spent too much time dealing with complaints about grammar.

Now, pop culture websites like buzzfeed.com have joined the campaign, with an impassioned plea from blogger Scott Lamb to ban all apostrophes.

“No one uses them correctly and we dont really need them anyhow. I mean really, was there any part of this post that you couldnt understand because of the stupid apostrophes that werent included?” he writes.

Founder of the Apostrophe Protection Society, Nobel prize-winner John Richards, comes out swinging. “The little apostrophe deserves our protection. It is indeed a threatened species!”

Apostrophe.org.uk is hard-core porn for punctuation aficionados, exposing shocking cases of abuse.

One real estate ad reads SELLS HOUSES, I’TS THAT SIMPLE. Or perhaps that’s just the agent.

A bottle shop advertises KEG’S ON SALE. (Bad news: We only have one keg. Good news: It’s on sale!)

And don’t get me started on DICKS PHOTOGRAPHY.

Lynne Truss, in her brilliant book Eats, Shoots & Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation, encourages pedants to take to the streets, armed with marker pens, to restore proper punctuation.

Her bugbear is the greengrocers’ apostrophe, which is used wrongly to form a plural (as in the cheap keg).

In Troublesome Words, author Bill Bryson lambasts the “linguistic neanderthals” at British supermarket chain Tesco for its sins of omission, including signs for ‘mens magazines’ and ‘girls toys’.

There’s even a supporters’ group for the possessive apostrophe on blogspot, Words 101.

http://copywritingsydney.com.au/?s=possessive-apostrophe

“Consider ‘Those things on the bed are my boyfriend’s’ compared with ‘Those things on the bed are my boyfriends’,” write LJ Loch. “One means I’m picking things up, while the other means I’ve picked up!”

She recommends substituting of the, to work out who possesses what.

“For example, ‘the boy’s punishment’ is the punishment of the boy, while ‘the boys’ punishment’ means more than one boy is in trouble,” she explains.

Sadly, we could be fighting a losing battle.

Thee and thou went the way of the dinosaurs, but the evolution of language is not only to blame.

The modern-day culprit is the internet.

Web addresses are apostrophe-averse, forcing businesses into grammatical errors for the sake of consistency.

Am I the only one who feels near-homicidal rage every time I see that ‘whatsnew’ commercial on the telly?

It’s time to take up arms (well, at least textas) to save the endangered apostrophe.

In the words of Lynne Truss, “Sticklers unite! You have nothing to lose but your sense of proportion. Arguably, you didn’t have much of that to begin with”.

Tracey Spicer apologises for the split infinitives, nonrestrictive clauses not preceded by commas and solecisms contained in this article. It ain’t perfect!

With Chris Bath likely to be named the first solo female primetime newsreader on commercial TV in Australia’s biggest market, the sisters have their knives out.

According to media writer Amanda Meade, female viewers find Bath’s hair, make-up and wardrobe “too distracting”.

In a jocular aside, Channel Seven’s Sydney news director Chris Willis said women viewers were always the harshest critics.

This story could be interpreted in two ways.

It’s either been leaked by executives, as an excuse to rob Bath of the role she was promised when Ian Ross said he’d retire at the end of this year.

(Mark Ferguson, an excellent newsreader who’s popular with both men and women, is waiting anxiously in the wings).

Or Willis is merely confirming what we’ve long suspected – that women can’t wait to claw each other’s eyes out.

Since 1990, when Jennifer Keyte became this country’s first solo female primetime anchor, we’ve been waiting to see who’d be entrusted with Sydney – the biggest and, undoubtedly, toughest market.

It’s not an issue at the ABC where Juanita Phillips has read the 7pm bulletin for six years producing consistently strong ratings.

Despite Phillips’ success, Seven news boos Peter Meakin believes such an appointment, on commercial television, is risky.

“There’s a school of thought that there is a risk putting a woman on her own, largely because of female viewers not accepting female readers as authority figures,” he told The Australian newspaper.

While Chris Bath is now considered the heir apparent to the popular Ian Ross, nine years ago she was sidelined after the birth of her son Darcy.

Ironically, she had to get her gear off – famously in the news desk strip-tease on Dancing with the Stars – for Seven execs to take her seriously.

Suddenly they realised she was a great newsreader after all.

There’s a commonly-held belief that Australia is behind the times, but Bath’s battle cry echoes throughout the world.

It was only three years ago that Katie Couric became the first solo female anchor in the United States (on CBS).

Diana Sawyer is about to follow suit on the ABC’s World News Tonight.

Debate rages across the border in Canada, where women are still relegated to weekend slots.

Viewer comments reveal that female anchors, worldwide, are subjected to much more scrutiny about their appearance and personal lives than their male counterparts.

In Australia, Sky News presenter Jacinta Tynan feels she is the target of a hate campaign by viewers, obsessing about the way she looks.

“They write in saying they’re sick of seeing my face so botoxed, or that there’s too much collagen in my lips. I’m pregnant, for God’s sake, as if I’d be putting anything like that into my body!” she said.

So why do we do this to each other?

Sex Therapist Shere Hite addresses this thorny question in her report on Women Loving Women.

From warring sisters, to mothers jealous of their daughters’ beauty, Hite paints a complex and disturbing picture of women judging each other on looks, age and sex appeal.

“When we walk into a room, we are relieved when another woman is not much more attractive than we are,” Hite writes.

“A woman can be put in a tough position: she wants to dress up, she likes the positive attention she gets from looking good, but on the other hand she may risk alienating other women. What to do? There is no right answer.”

This is the dilemma faced by Bath, whose flouncy tops and elaborate hair-dos might be alienating her fan base.

In a perfect world, she would be judged by her performance alone.

But, in the words of Captain Blackadder, “The world isn’t fair, Baldrick”.

At Sky News and the ABC, women handle breaking news and live interviews without a man to hold their hands.

Sadly, equality could be a long time coming in the land of the dinosaurs.

Several months ago Chris Bath told radio 2UE: “When Roscoe retires, I will be doing Monday to Friday and Fergo will be doing weekends. That’s the plan”.

But she needs bouquets, not brickbats, from the women of Australia to make that plan a reality.

Not when it comes to cancer, of course.

That’s still unproven, according to mobile phone companies which have much deeper pockets than this humble scribe.

No, what I’m talking about is the way we’re ditching the fags for another addictive accessory.

Instead of going downstairs for a smoko, we fondle the slimline package in our pocket, relishing the thought of our next text or tweet.

It calms the nerves, makes us look cool and banishes social anxiety.

Which is kinda what tobacco companies wanted us to believe when they started pushing cancer sticks onto an unsuspecting public all those years ago.

In the 1960s, the Marlboro Man was the guy every man wanted to be and every woman wanted to have.

Now, Sex and the City’s Mr Big Chris Noth is the brand ambassador for LG’s Secret mobile phone, targeting “fashion-conscious and discerning Australians”.

Cast-mate Kristin Davis spruiks Motorola’s RAZR2, while Paris Hilton raves about her Sidekick 3 cell phone encrusted with Swarovksi Crystals.

Rihanna launches the Chocolate phone because she’s “fresh, sexy vibrant and a style icon – just what this phone is all about”.

And I thought they were for making calls. I am so last decade.

At a recent mobile phone launch (brand name suppressed for fear of legal action), the scene was reminiscent of a 1970s pool party thrown by Big Tobacco.

The guest list comprised glamorous Gen Y models and actors dressed to kill, brandishing a champagne flute in one hand and a mobile in the other.

The addicts could barely wait a minute for their next hit, obsessively checking their phone or jealously eyeing off someone else’s.

One guest, Cheyenne Tozzi, wouldn’t be seen dead without her mobile phone, despite receiving death threats via text.

These stars are role models to teenagers who, according to a report in the British Medical Journal, are smoking less and talking more on mobile phones.

Anne Charlton, an emeritus professor at Manchester University, says phone marketing resembles cigarette advertising.

“It’s all about the cool factor. Fashion is so important to this age group,” she says.

Tobacco product placement, which garnered millions for the likes of Clark Gable and Spencer Tracy in the 1930s and 40s, is being superseded by phone placement deals, most notably the Nokia 7110 in The Matrix.

In the US, more money is spent marketing mobile phones than any other object, including tobacco, cars and laundry detergent.

Proof that they are the new cigarettes comes from China in the form of the SB6309 – the world’s first phone with a built-in cigarette lighter.

Inside a small door on the back is a red-hot square.

This is one phone that could literally burn a hole in your pocket.

Or why not try the new Dual-band Marlboro phone?

One side looks just like a pack of the death sticks; the other features a high-tech phone with 1.8” LCD screen.

As one blogger puts it, “Now you can get brain cancer and lung cancer in one convenient package!”

While the jury is still out on the dangers of cell phones, a study released this year by a top neurosurgeon reveals they could kill more people than smoking.

According to the UK’s Independent newspaper, Dr. Vini Khurana bases his assessment on the fact that three billion people now use the phones worldwide.

That’s three times higher than the number of people who smoke.

To paraphrase the Virginia Slims ad from 1968, “We’ve come a long way, baby”.

Tracey Spicer is a journalist, Sky News anchor, MC and keynote speaker.

www.spicercommunications.biz

But for those who’ve cared for a terminally ill loved one, the ancient Greek definition of the word ‘euthanasia’ is appropriate.

In the past month, the right to die debate has been given oxygen (pun intended) by three separate cases in Western Australia, Tasmania and New South Wales.

First, however, a brief history of life, death, and whole damn thing.

For more than a decade, Doctor Philip Nitschke has argued that everyone over the age of 65 should have access to Nembutal.

(Vets use the drug to euthanise animals, which die with more dignity than those higher up the food chain.)

In 1996, the world’s first euthanasia legislation was passed in the Northern Territory, before being overturned the following year by a conscience vote in the Federal Parliament.

During that time, Dr. Nitschke helped four people to die using his Deliverance Machine (cue duelling banjos), which administers a lethal injection of barbituates.

Fast-forward to last month, when the WA Supreme Court ruled that quadriplegic Christian Rossiter had the right to refuse food and water, without his nursing home being subject to prosecuted.

Starvation ain’t pretty. But it’s a step in the right direction.

In Tasmania, a parliamentary committee is debating the Dying with Dignity Bill.

Labor and Liberal MPs have been allowed a conscience vote on the bill, likely to become an issue in the state election early next year.

And last week, the NSW Supreme Court upheld the right to refuse medical treatment to patients who had previously made a “living will”.

These Advance Care Directives, which patients can complete well before falling ill, are legally binding and can’t be overturned by family members.

While they can’t contain instructions for euthanasia, they could be used as a template for laws similar to those in the Netherlands.

Over the past seven years, Dutch doctors have assisted in thousands of deaths. Most were cancer patients. And most were at home.

These laws give patients the power to specify the circumstances under which they would die by providing a written Euthanasia Directive, in case they are no longer able to communicate.

Apart from the will, at least two physicians must agree that the patient is terminally ill and that no hope for recovery exists.

Last year, I wrote at length about my mother’s painful death from pancreatic cancer, and our family’s desperate pleas to end her suffering.

http://www.news.com.au/story/0,,23943563-5007146,00.html

That article prompted thousands of letters, emails and phone calls from Australians who wanted to share their share their stories: the 25 year old farmer who carried out his terminally ill grandfather’s final wish by suffocating him with a pillow; the woman who pumped extra morphine into her dying mother to help end her misery.

http://www.news.com.au/entertainment/story/0,,23950405-10388,00.html

These kind, compassionate, courageous people live each day knowing that they could be charged with murder or manslaughter.

Right-to-die laws are supported by up to 80 percent of Australians.

Our laws are out of touch with community sentiment, because of the power of the Christian Right.

Faced with a burgeoning aged population, Australia needs to have this debate sooner rather than later.

When we’re lying on our death beds, suffering immense pain and losing control of our bodily functions, we won’t care about John Della Bosca’s marital travails, Cate Blanchett’s bump on the head or the global financial crisis.

All we will care about is dying with a modicum of dignity.

A right we are currently denied.

Tracey Spicer is an MC, keynote speaker, media and presentation trainer, newspaper columnist and Sky News anchor.

Unless that next person happens to be Fiona O’Loughlin. Or Andrew Symonds.

But the Australian Hotels Association’s opposition to a cancer fundraiser is just plain wrong.

Three blokes who’ve lost loved ones to cancer have started Dry July to raise money for Sydney’s Prince of Wales Hospital.

A worthy cause, you would think.

Not so, according to the AHA.

On the weekend (that time when we indulge in the fine Aussie tradition of getting shi*tfaced and kicked out of pubs), the lobby group’s CEO was foaming at the mouth.

“I am concerned that some people out there are suggesting that alcohol per se is a dangerous substance,” Bill Healy said as he crushed a can of VB and threw it to the ground in disgust.

“Why don’t we have ‘No Mango May’? There are a lot of substances that, if you consume them irresponsibly, are a problem.”

Now, I grew up in Queensland – the home of the mango – and I don’t remember anybody drinking one-too-many mango smoothies, beating up a bouncer then vomiting in the back of a taxi on the way home.

As far as I’m aware, over-consumption of mangoes does not lead to sex-which-you-later-regret, or a craving for kebabs at 3 o’clock in the morning.

Ditto cancer, liver disease, heart problems, diabetes, dementia or depression.

Despite these obvious dangers, there have been wildly conflicting studies in recent years about the risks and benefits of drinking alcohol.

Heart doctors in New Jersey are about to give red wine pills (resveratrol) to their patients to see whether they create the so-called French Paradox, whereby Gallic drinkers have a lower mortality rate from heart disease than North Americans.

The benefits of red wine have been widely reported – and exaggerated.

We seem to forget the key message: it’s only good for you if you stick to one glass a day.

In a nation forged on the rum rebellion, how many of us have the discipline to stop at just one?

The demon drink, as my grandmother used to call it, took my father to the brink of suicide.

After 20 ulcers exploded in his stomach, Dad gave up the grog and turned his life around.

With a history of alcoholism on both sides of the family, we battle every day to achieve moderation.

Hubby has one dry month every year (normally February, because it’s the shortest!)

We are far from teetotalers. We don’t preach. And we certainly don’t avoid pubs.

As Dry July co-founder Brett Macdonald says, “We are a light-hearted approach for raising money for a serious cause. We’re all big drinkers ourselves”.

The AHA has committed a huge PR blunder by attacking this good cause.

It’s reminiscent of the evil, egregious campaign by the tobacco industry to propagate the myth that everything gives you cancer.

In the 1980s and ‘90s, Big Tobacco funded studies that pointed the finger at red meat, air pollution and toothpaste to divert public attention from the fact that smoking causes cancer.

(This was reinforced by noted oncologist and singer, Joe Jackson.)

The enormity of its success can be seen today, with rusted-on smokers still parroting the phrase.

The tobacco and alcohol lobby groups turn a blind eye to people dying of cancer, to make a quick buck.

To be fair, I can understand the financial imperative.

More pubs are expected to go broke this year due to falls in property values, fewer patrons and a lack of bank credit.

It’s worse in New South Wales, where pubs are about to be hit with new licence restrictions because of alcohol-related violence.

Surely the answer is to restructure your business to cope with changing times, rather than attacking a charity?

Interestingly, there has been no word from companies like Lion Nathan.

Brewers boom in times of economic hardship, as people drown their sorrows.

A couple of thousand drinkers abstaining for a month barely dent their profits.

But it makes a world of difference to those trying to improve their health.

After all, isn’t it ‘health’ that we drink to, before we all fall down?