The Victorian government is banning the sale of bongs in the state from new years day next year. A tip if you want to buy one, they’ll only be in shops for 3 more months.

Obviously this isn’t going to stop people smoking cannabis, and the government knows this, but they say the ban will send a message to Victorians that drug use is not on.

Interestingly though, the government have decided not to ban hookah pipes.

Here at the Sex Party office, we’re wondering – is there really that much of a difference between a bong and a hookah pipe? (We have included the definition of each piece below.) Really, wouldn’t you just add a piece of hose to a bong and voila! it’s a hookah pipe?

So in light of this observation, we’ve started this blog on the Vic bong bill. We are asking you to comment with your suggestions or send in your pictures or videos on how to turn a bong into a hookah pipe to This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it (anonymously if you like). We'll put them up here. Let's show the government how ridiculous this legislation is.

Here’s what we think: seeing as this ban isn’t going to stop people smoking cannabis, and it’s not going to stop people selling objects that are almost exactly the same as bongs, we really can’t see how there could be any point to this ban. There's no justification for banning bongs and taking away yet another one of our personal freedoms.

Cannabis water pipe means a device—
(a) capable of being used or intended to be used for the purposes of introducing into the body of a person cannabis or other drugs of dependence by the drawing of smoke or fumes resulting from heating or burning the cannabis or other drug through water or another liquid in the device, commonly known as a "bong"; or

(b) that is intended to be used as a device referred to in paragraph (a) but is not capable of being so used because it needs adjustment, modification or addition— but does not include a hookah;

Hookah means a fully assembled device—
(a) used for smoking a substance consisting of tobacco, molasses, fruit, herbs or flavouring, whether the substance contains all or any combination of them, by the drawing of smoke or fumes resulting from heating or burning the substance in the device through water or another liquid in the device; and

(b) that has one or more openings and one or more flexible hoses, each with a mouthpiece through which the smoke or fumes are drawn.

We look forward to your submissions.

There's a phrase that has become an exasperated mantra among us equal rights fighters - namely in the quest for marriage equality - and that is, “Why are we still debating this in 2011.”

I mean, according to history and almost every single science fiction writer from the past 100 years, we are now living in the future. Okay sure, we haven't got our jet-packs or our personal hover-crafts yet, and we're a long way off from eating people, but really, in terms of technology, social advancement and video game graphics we are practically one microchip away from Skynet.

Why then, in a country so advanced that we can talk face to face from our living rooms with someone in the middle of Africa, or genetically grow meat in a vat, are we so frightened of giving two people in love the basic right of marriage that every straight person has just because they are gay?

We are advanced and intelligent enough to know that homosexuality is not a “choice” or a “lifestyle option”. We know that gay people are not evil, mentally defunct or paedophiles. We know that gay and lesbian parents raise healthy, normal kids like the rest of us, and we also know that it's not a disease or affliction that can be contagious or unhealthy. So what is it?

The bible bashers will tell you it's because God says it's bad and they have to follow His word. However, the thing that bothers me the most about these arguments is their uncanny ability to pick and choose which parts of God's words they will follow and which parts they will not. The Vatican does everything in its power (and they have a lot of it) to protect priests that rape children and squirrel away millions upon millions of dollars that could be used to make the world a better place. They are practically spitting on the surface of the Ten Commandments with the way they lie, cheat, steal and corrupt, and seem to completely ignore the ones that say “Do unto others” and “Love thy neighbour”. And they expect us to believe they are doing things in God's name?

If there's one thing I know about God from all the stuff I've ever heard, is the underlying message that God Is Love. In my understanding of true, pure love, like the one they claim God to have, is that it's supposed to be unconditional. That means no matter what you do I will love you. Pretty simple really. I can't ever remember seeing an asterisk attached to that statement: God's love is unconditional.... Oh, unless you're gay.

Our Prime Minister, Julia Gillard, claims her stance against gay marriage has nothing to do with religion. She instead says it is because of the conservative way in which she was raised, and that the Marriage Act holds a special status for men and women. Sorry, Julia but that is the whole fucking point! That description alone pretty much confirms our whole argument! It is exclusive, elitist and discriminatory and basically says that straight couples have more rights than gay couples because they are straight. Now, since we've already established that gay people are born that way and have no choice in the matter, saying they are unable to be given the same status as other people because of something that is completely beyond anyone's control is just plain bigotry. Nothing else.

Her position on the matter really has made me sad that she is our voice to the world. Considering she is someone who, without the amendments of certain laws, would never have been Prime Minister. Hell, she wouldn't have even been able to go to university to study law, buy a house in her own name or live in it unwed with her de-facto lover. Why? Because she is a woman. According to the way it's “always been” throughout the majority of historical record, women can't be trusted with having a job, let alone be in charge of important matters of state. They should be pretty and demure and know how to sew. They should find a husband, settle down and have children and not worry their pretty little heads about things that men do.

I'll bet in her university union days a young Julia would have fought for equal opportunities for women. She would have tut-tutted at the big-wig men making decisions about her body, her future, her life. In fact, it is quite likely the injustices in the world are the very thing that led her to law and unions and politics.

In fact, I honestly think the only positive thing I have to say about her being in charge is that at least she isn't Tony Abbot, and if that's the best thing about her then really, I think it's time for another meeting of the “Faceless Men”.

I honestly don't know what she is worried about? Legalising gay marriage won't cause more global warming, it won't help or hinder the “stop the boats” campaign and it won't stop the mining industry from paying more tax. It won't stop straight marriages from happening or suddenly mean our children are not safe and it most certainly won't (as some of the extreme anti campaigners claim) make us think that we can all now go out and marry donkeys or desk lamps.

In all honesty it won't do anything at all other than one thing. It will show the gay and lesbian community of Australia that their government accepts them absolutely and unconditionally. It will prove once and for all that we are a tolerant nation of loving and respectful people and that their love is as equal and as valid as everyone else's.

It really is time to catch up with the time we are in; the future beyond 2000. It's time to say no to religion being the basis for our laws and yes to equal rights and opportunities for all. Is it really that much of a hard decision?

A news article came out of the UK the other day about a 12 year old boy who had just done something no other 12 year old boy has ever done before (that I am aware of). He entered, and won, a drag queen competition.

Under the guise “Naughty Nora” , Redvers Stokes wowed the judges with his Dolly Parton and Michael Jackson routine and took home the crown.

His parents were both quite chuffed with their son, his mother stating how proud she was of him and his father claiming he thought the whole thing was hilarious. Bloggers galore have jumped on this as wonderful and progressive and hailing the mother and father and “great parents” for being so supportive of their son's dream, and in some ways I do agree.

On the surface it really does seem like a bit of harmless fun, and good on the kid and his parents for being so cool. However, I really can't help but think there's something a little wrong with the whole thing overall.

Now, before you go jumping up and down at me and calling me a bigot (like was done when I mentioned these same points on a forum about the topic the other day) I want to say unequivocally that I am not “anti-gay” I am not “anti children expressing themselves” and I am also not “anti parent's supporting their kids.” Also, for what it's worth, even though it makes no difference to my argument, the kid in question isn't gay, he just finds the whole thing a bit of a laugh. Which is okay too... on the surface...

What I am anti, is the sexualisation of minors. Which, when you really think about it, and scratch beneath the surface, is what this is.

Firstly let's look at Drag Queens. The culture, the nature of the shows and the underlying sexiness of them. Have you ever been to a drag show? Not only are they usually at pubs (where a 12 year old is not allowed), they are also full of innuendo, double entendre, smut, pussy jokes and tales about big cocks. They are absolutely sex-laden and most definitely not appropriate for children.

Then we have his name “Naughty Nora”. Now, sure, to most kids naughty is what you do when you steal an extra biscuit from the barrel or paint your baby brother's head with mum's good lipstick, but to adults, especially those who work in the sex industry (which is where Drag Queens are based), “naughty” is a very sexy term and I highly doubt anyone at the show took his “naughty” moniker as being the term for a disobedient child.

His outfit consisted of a tight pink gown, a long blonde wig, make up, high heels and massive fake boobs. Funny, yes. Appropriate for a 12 year old, I just don't think so.

I suppose one way to really make my point is to swap this all around:

Take the female equivalent of Drag. What would that be? Burlesque perhaps? Maybe even a pole dance show? Now take a twelve year old girl. Dress her up in the outfits; the make up, the padded bra and the thigh high boots, then give her a name like “Kandy Kane” and send her out to a “Miss Pole Dance” competition.

Proud mum and dad would be on the next expose on “Today Tonight” faster than you can call DOCS and we would all be yelling about how inappropriate the whole thing is and how dare we allow our children to be exposed to such highly sexualised content!

So why is this any different? Is it because it was a boy dressed as a sexual being? Is it because it is more of a parody of a sexy woman than a “real” sexy woman? Or is it because (like I discovered the other day) people are so frightened to be labelled a bigot or a hater if they disagree with something like this that they just smile and nod and say “Oh, isn't that cute”?

Like I stated earlier I am not a bigot in any way, shape or form. I love Drag. One of my best friends in the world is a lesbian (and so is her partner by the way) and many many more of my friends are gay too (there is even a drag queen in the bunch who I spoke to about this and who agrees with my sentiment). I myself am bisexual and I work in the sex industry, and I know what discrimination can feel like. I think everyone has the right to be accepted and loved regardless of their sexuality. I think schools should have gay and lesbian relationships as part of their sex education curriculum, I shout “kudos” to those young kids who have come out and live proudly as homosexuals and I am all for kids being kids and expressing themselves. However, this particular instance only serves to make me think of double standards and hypocrisy and it all just feels a little bit creepy.

But maybe that's just me...

As we all gathered, beneath a grey Melbourne sky, the energy was palpable with a feeling of ‘maybe this time’ in the air.

On Saturday, the steps of the State Library filled once again, to show the government that Australians’ are serious about the need for change, once again! With rally’s happening in other major cities on the day, Melbourne’s 1200 people seemed to be loud enough for at least twice that number. MCed by Tracy Bartram and with speakers from University, Lobby groups, and politicians who do show their support to repeal the law that was put in place by the Howard government 7 years ago this week, the crowd cheered on.

Julia Gillard was called upon to stand up and make things right. Since the marriage act was changed 7 years ago by the Howard government to include the words ‘between and man and a woman’ the LGBTIQ community and their supporters have been fighting for the right for recognition of same sex unions. It’s not about the religious aspect of ‘getting married’ for the community, it’s about the recognition of the all legal rights that go along with it that Equal Love supporters are looking for.

In an interview after the rally, Tracy Bartram was quoted as saying, if there was a law saying redheads couldn’t marry tomorrow, then the PM might have something to say about that. In fact now, with openly gay politicians (Bob Brown/Adam Bandt/Penny Wong) and one of them announcing last week that her partner was expecting their first child, well, it’s about time that the laws of this country reflected majority of the public opinion on the matter. Media outlets state that somewhere in the vicinity of 75% of Australian public would be happy to share the right to marry with same sex couples.

So why hasn’t the law changed. In his speech on Saturday Adam Bandt told the crowd of a unionist who said his ‘people’ would not be supportive of same sex unions, the fact is that that man was the head of the shopfitters union, membership includes hairdressers, and retail salespeople. This was a clear indication of the people’s voice not being represented. The greens, have secured debate time in Parliament in the coming months solely on this issue of Same sex marriage. Bandt asked all people to send a clear message to you federal parliamentarian that it’s time for change. Write a letter, send an email, it’s as easy as following this link to the AEC website putting in your postcode and sending an email to the name on the top of the page!

Under the law, a politician MUST acknowledge each and every written contact made to them, I have written to my Polie on the matter ... how about you?!

We should adopt a policy advocating reform of Question Time.

It does not serve its purpose. It does not set an example for public debate. It should be completely re-thought.

I spent a number of days in the Federal Parliament this year and it’s not pretty. What you miss on TV but understand watching the whole chamber is the animalistic nature of it.

Two packs of animals. Someone runs up to the other pack, bares their teeth, then scurries back to their pack. It is a contest of intimidation. When a weakness is detected in a pack, the voices of the opposing pack rise up in catcall and ridicule. They sniff blood; the volume of animal noises increases. It is what I imagine a stoning is like.

Almost every question from the opposition attempts to embarrass the government, not solicit information. The repetition is sickening. Questions are repeated with minor variations so as to find a weak spot and dictate the news cycle.

Questions are almost all about the past. The questioners want to find an inconsistency, a failure, a lie. They want to attack. They want the media to righteously demolish their enemy.

Almost every answer blunts the attack by speaking for as long and indirectly as possible. When the government asks a question of itself it is designed to use up time and talk positively about accomplishments. Or about the failings of the opposition in previous years. Answers are press releases. How many thousands of bureaucratic hours are wasted in this?

I watched David Cameron in the House of Commons the day he answered 138 questions from the Opposition about phone hacking. Short, direct answers. The British Parliament is not perfect; it is adversarial and backwards-looking like ours, but there is respect and debate that is a level above what happens in Australia. Find me a politician that says different.

All of Australia talks about the brattish, churlish, unproductive, attention-seeking nature of Question Time. We should petition the Parliament for change.

Photo sourced from MystifyMe Concert Photography (Troy).

One of the most embarrassing moments of my life (apart from that time I wet my pants at Suzanne Bs 8th birthday party) was the first time I ever went to buy a vibrator. Back in those days - you know, the good ol' days of the early 90s - there were very few options. You could mail order from the back of a magazine or do the sneaky venture past the dirty curtain into the seedy sex shop.

Being about seventeen I had two problems. One, I didn't have a credit card to buy out of a magazine (and was too scared to get something delivered to my house where I might have to explain the package to my parents) and two, I was under eighteen so, even though I was legally able to have sex, it was illegal for me to go into a sex shop and buy a toy. Talk about frustrating!

It also didn't help that this was, as I said, the early 90s and sex shops were hidden away in bleak industrial areas, usually unable to reach by bus. In my case it was Fyshwick in Canberra, home of brothels, fireworks and porn, so you'd think it would be easy. No such luck. If you're familiar with Canberra in the early 90s, you'll know that the public transport system was (and from what I hear still is) lacking in many things. Like buses taking you anywhere you needed to go on a direct route.

Finally, about a week after my eighteenth birthday and after months of thinking about it I decided to bite the bullet and go. So, under the guise of spending Saturday with a friend, I left the house early and began my adventure.

First there was a bus to my local interchange, then a bus to the city and then a bus out to Fyshwick. It took almost two hours, but I was finally there.

I got off the bus but all I could see were furniture shops, carpet shops and hardware shops. Nothing that looked like a sex shop at all. Great. I wandered around aimlessly, not wanting to go too far and wind up lost and unable to get home.

I was about to give up when, in a small cluster of shops I saw a “XXX” sign. Sucking up every ounce of courage I had I pushed open the door and went inside.

It took me all of about 30 seconds to realise this wasn't the shop for me. Leather masks hung from the walls, huge dildos in the shape of fists and arms sat on the shelves, and the videos all had titles like “There's a Bear in There” and “Bob's Big Balls”. There wasn't a single picture of a woman and everything had the words “Hard” and “Strong” and “Man” written on it.

“Um, can I help you?” A big guy in a leather vest had come out from the back and was looking at me curiously.

“I think I'm in the wrong shop,” I said, turning bright red and wishing the floor would open up and swallow me.

The guy smiled kindly. “Go round the corner, about three shops up. I think that one will work better for you.”

Muttering my thanks and hurrying out the door, I followed his directions and ended up outside a small shop that proclaimed it sold porn and fireworks. Again, I breathed in all my insecurities and walked through the door.

It was very similar to the first shop, although instead of leather masks hanging from the walls there were blow-up dolls, the fist and arm dildos were replaced with vibrators shaped like penises and all the posters were of fake-boobed women in the throes of passion.

A fat guy (think Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons) looked up from behind the counter and silently eyed me up and down, making me feel even more uncomfortable than I had in the gay shop. After he'd sufficiently checked me out he went back to his book and ignored me.

I stood awkwardly in the middle of the shop looking around me at all the things on the shelves. I had no idea where to start. Porn-shop-guy did nothing to help and, to be honest, I really didn't want to talk to him. The thought of asking him his advice on which toy would be best made me feel a bit creepy and so, empty-handed and feeling like my day had been a total waste, I left the shop and headed back to the bus stop.

As I passed back by the gay shop the guy was sitting outside having a cigarette.

“How'd you go, love?” he asked?

I shook my head. “Crap.” I said.

He looked at me sympathetically. “What exactly are you after?”

“I don't know,” I said. “That's the problem. Probably just a vibrator.” The fact that this guy was speaking to me kindly, and was obviously gay, made me feel a lot more comfortable talking to him.

“Come on,” he said, stubbing out his smoke. “Let's see if I can help you.”

And so I went into the gay porn shop with its “Devastator Butt Plugs” and its “Piss In Boots” videos and started looking at vibrators with a Bear named Brent.

He showed me how to test the buzz against my nose to see how strong it was, he talked to me about the differences between all the toys and even gave me safe sex advice about condoms and dams. When I finally left I had a brand new buzzy toy (a bright blue penis-shaped thing) and a bag of free batteries, condoms and lube. The best part was that I'd felt comfortable buying it. I hadn't felt sleazed on or treated like some sort of deviant freak. Just real advice and great service. If only all the sex shops had this kind of thing!

In the following years I went into quite a few different places and pretty much always encountered the same thing as that second shop. Sleazy and/or uninterested men working behind the counter, no real advice and everything set up to look like the inside of a porn set. Great if you're a bloke, sure, but not so great for females, especially for the timid or inexperienced. And, with the toys always looking like big penises it wasn't much fun for lesbians or women who didn't want to have a big plastic cock rubbing against them!

But fast forward almost twenty years and I am pleased to say that things have definitely changed! Finally sex shops are being set up in a much more female-friendly way. Nearly every single one I've gone into in the last five or so years (and trust me, that's a lot) is tastefully designed. There are no half naked orgasmic women on the walls, there are nearly always women working behind the counter and no longer are all vibrators shaped like cocks! There are dolphins and penguins and worms and seals in a myriad of different colours, as well as hundreds of non-creature female-centric designs, made especially to cater for a woman's body. There are costumes in packages showing women of all shapes and sizes wearing them, porn made specifically for women, and there is always someone friendly and non-confronting to give advice.

In fact, even with the invent of the internet and the availability of millions of websites selling toys, I will always recommend to a first-time buyer to go into a shop first (which are also now in way more accessible areas) and talk to the girl behind the counter. That one-on-one advice really is invaluable to get you on your way to buzzing bliss! These shops are doing wonderful things for women's self esteem (and not to mention their sex lives) by making them feel comfortable about their desires to masturbate, watch pornography, explore their sexuality and enjoy sex. So, ladies, if you haven't stepped inside a shop because you're worried about having a similar experience to my first time, don't panic! You'll be pleasantly surprised and I guarantee your body will thank you for it!

On a little side note I would like to say that I went back and saw Brent many times after that day and, in a funny twist of events, I even ended up working in the gay shop with him... But that's another story...

Never has there been a time when I wish I'd paid more attention in my high school legal studies classes than this week. I am up to my ears in legal jargon and phrases I barely understand and am trying to sort through it all to make some sense of the outrage I feel. And not just my outrage, thousands of other people seem to be sharing my same view. I am speaking about the recent decision handed down to Australian media presenter Derryn Hinch (otherwise knows an the Human Headline) by the High Court of Australia. A ruling which has seen him sentenced to home detention for five months for publicly naming a couple of serious serial sex offenders on his radio program.

This is an offence under section 42 of the serious sex offenders monitoring act. Basically, for all you people like me who are unfamiliar with legal acts, this act states that if the court believes it is in the best interest of the case and/or the victim, then documents and evidence, as well as the victims and offenders names, are suppressed and it is illegal to publish any information that includes these things.

From what I can tell, the main reason this is done is to avoid the victim being identified. On the surface it seems fairly straightforward. Someone who has endured severe sexual abuse and trauma has a right to get on with their lives and not be hounded by the media and the public about what has happened. They have the right to move on and put the dreadful past behind them.

But, on the other hand, and what's angering so many people is, it's often seen more as protecting the abuser. No-one is allowed to know who the person is, what they did and, more importantly, where they are now, and that last part is what is concerning people; not being able to know if a serious serial sex offender lives near you and your children. Something we all know now is that sex offenders come in many forms. They aren't just the creepy guy in the trench coat hanging out in the playground, they come in all shapes and sizes, and from all walks of life. So how do you know?

Yes, there is the Australian Sex Offender Register, but to be honest, as well as the fact that it would have no information about suppressed offenders, I noticed one big flaw in this service. You cannot actually search your specific area to see if a registered offender lives close by. You must put the name of someone you suspect in the search boxes and then the register looks to see if there are any records or files against this particular person. Without an actual name the register is basically useless. The one place that does have all this information is ANCOR – Australian National Child Offender Registry, however, unlike in America, this service is not available to the public it is only available to police.

Another slight problem I have with the registry is the fact that anyone who has ever been convicted of a sex related crime is on there. What's wrong with that, you ask? Well, lets just say you're a seventeen year old guy and you have a fifteen year old girlfriend. That is illegal, because she is under the age of consent, and if you are charged with carnal knowledge you can then put on the register as a child sex offender. What about a fourteen year old girl who sends her also fourteen year old boyfriend a picture of her boobs in this “sexting” craze that has come in with the invention of cameras in mobile phones? These two children, if caught, are charged with the heinous crime of distributing child pornography, and can be put on the register for at least eight years.

In my opinion I would prefer these names, the ones of children and teenagers who have been charged with crimes like the ones mentioned above, to be suppressed. If a future employer was to type their name into the register, they would see the applicant had been charged with child sex offences and they would never get a job ever. The stigma would stick with them forever, and a silly act of teenage risk-taking and stupidity would ruin their adult lives.

So, back to the suppression orders. What do the victims of these crimes think about their attackers being allowed to live unknown within the community? Do they have a say on the suppression orders? What would happen if a victim was to identify an abuser when a suppression order is in place? Unfortunately this is information that is very hard to come by. Mainly because these cases, and the victims themselves, have been suppressed and so there is little information about them at all.

I did find one very recent story about a victim having a suppression order lifted. The story of Sascha Chandler who, at fourteen years old, was groomed and abused by a serial sex offender named Andrew McIntosh until he (Sascha) was seventeen. Fifteen years later, when Sascha became a father for the first time, he decided he could not sit silently any more and finally reported his abuser to the police.

A nationwide manhunt took place and, by a series of bizarre coincidences and a lot of luck, Andrew McIntosh was finally brought to justice. In a move that surprised some of his family and friends Sascha asked the judge to remove the suppression order, so that he could come out publicly and tell his story in the hope that it might help other victims of abuse come forward and name their abusers.

“I can't sleep at night if I can't stand up as an adult and do my very best to stop this man,” he said in an interview on ABC's Australian Story this month. “It allows me to truly look forward and get on with my life, knowing that he can't hurt anybody else.”

And I suppose that's the thing that really needs to be weighed up when dealing with serial offenders and their victims. When someone has the mental disease of paedophilia, they are most often incurable. According to some studies I read up to 58% of paedophiles will re-offend and one study I saw claimed that it was more like 98%. Whatever the number, they are both way too high and therefore suppressing the names, while in one way is protecting the victim and allowing them to move on, could be a very dangerous thing for every other unknowing person who comes into future contact with them.

This then bring us to the other argument I have come across many times in this research, and that is, if we remove the suppression orders what about the inevitable and subsequent vigilante attacks on the offenders? Knowing you have an offender in your area won't stop the offender from being in your area, and people often take their anger and frustration and fear out on the perpetrator, rallying outside their residence, throwing eggs, bricks and sometimes fire bombs at the house, justifying their actions with the fact that the person inside is a pervert and a child molester.

One solution is to house these incurable paedophiles in residential compounds like the old Commonwealth Games village now more commonly referred to as the “Village of the Damned” . This compound is situated just outside of Ararat Jail and already home to at least 24 serial sex offenders, including Brian Keith Jones, also known as Mr Baldy. Most of the other residents there are under suppression laws and so their names are not available, but at least we know they are there. Under constant electronic supervision and with night-time curfews. Other than these conditions, the residents are able to move freely about the compound and, in some cases, are allowed supervised visits into the general public.

This too, though, is littered with arguments and controversy. Things like the fact that these people have served their time but are still, in effect, in prison, and the money it costs the tax payers to house them. And there is also the matter of their rights as citizens being taken away.

However, my mother always taught me that with rights come responsibilities and if you don't abide by them then you will lose your rights. To me, a known serial sex offender who has attacked many children many times and is deemed likely to re-offend automatically loses their rights. They should not be given any sort of special treatment or leeway. The overall sense I have got from reading public rhetoric, as well as news items and professional opinions, is that this is a common school of thought and compounds, like the one in Ararat, are one of the better solutions. Not only to protect the children in our community, but also the offenders from vigilante attacks.

Whichever way you look at it, it is a tricky topic, full of heated debate and strong opinions, but the one thing that comes out loud and clear is that victims must be given every opportunity in the world to be able to move on, rebuild their lives and survive.

I must say, after much research into the topic, I am still a bit confused. Would it be that hard to suppress a victim's name but still make their abuser known? Because I really do not believe these men should be protected and their names withheld. I, as a mother and a member of a very family friendly and close-knit community believe I have the right to know where these people are, and if my family might be affected by it. I also, however, believe the victims should be allowed to have a say in whether there are suppression orders put on their cases, and the nature of what exactly is suppressed.

I also wish Derryn Hinch a full and speedy recovery from his recent liver transplant and hope that (without breaking the law next time) when he returns to our airwaves after his detention he keeps on fighting the fight for victims of abuse.

I am confused. As you get to know me you'll find this is not a rare thing, lots of things confuse me. City parking signs and why people still continue to wear leggings as pants are good examples of these, but the confusion I am feeling today is different. It's a bit tummy twisting and odd and I can't quite pinpoint what it is that's making me feel it.

I guess the place to start is around 30 years ago. I was four and the best part of my day was when mum and I would have our “milk and a biscuit” and sit in the living room to watch Play School.

Ah, Play School. It was, and still is in my opinion, the best TV show for kids ever. Forget your weird, slightly nightmarish Night Gardens and your odd, orange-legginged Djs, Play School is where it's at. With their cardboard toilet tube people and their spotty kinds of days they educate, entertain and delight children and parents alike.

When I was little I had two heroes on Play School. One was the hilariously funny John Hamlin whose little asides to the parents and tendency to dress as Miss Polly had both my mother and I in stitches, and the other was Noni Hazlehurst. With her wonderful crinkly-eyed smile and her little head shrugs and winks she was like a second mum. The kind of mum who'd blow on a cut after putting Dettol on it and who would tuck you up warm and safe in bed with a story every night.

When I was a teenager I would watch it with my niece and love the fact that my childhood hero was still entertaining kids, and as a new mum in my late 20s I would watch Noni on the show with my mum and my daughter and marvel at how three generations of my family could come together and find wonder and delight in this same woman, over two decades on.

At this stage I was writing weekly for one of my favourite magazines, Australian People. With its tongue-in-cheek bogan-ness and its scantily clad models it really was one of the most fun and amusing publications to write for. It has no pretensions. It's all about boobs, bums and beer and hey, there's nothing wrong with that! We're adults, we're allowed to like boobs, bums, and beer. That's one of the perks of growing up! So imagine my dismay, my hurt and my disbelief when I picked up the paper one morning to read that Noni Hazlehurst, my childhood icon, the woman who taught me the words to Bananas in Pyjamas, was tut-tutting and wagging her finger at me and my colleagues accusing us of the most heinous crime of sexualising children.

According to her the fact that these magazines can often be seen in the eyesight of children is inappropriate and they should be moved to the back corner of the shop with the restricted R rated magazines like Hustler and Playboy.

But hang on a moment I thought as I looked at the cover of the latest People magazine,
how is THIS (People) any worse than THIS (Cosmo)?
I mean, the fact that one is marketed at teenage girls and one is marketed at adult men is a huge difference, yes, but doesn't really giver her point validity. Then I thought about some of the things I'd seen on a shopping trip earlier that day:

Bratz Dolls wearing fishnet stockings and knee-high boots (marketed at, yes you guessed it, little girls), a hot pink string bikini in a size 3 (I know models are getting skinnier and skinnier, but really, this is ridiculous), a pair of clicky clacky high-heeled Barbie brand shoes for your five year old and, maybe one of the worst things I saw that day, an advertisement for beauty and make-over parties for your little girl. I began to think about my daughter and what she is exposed to and what she sees and, more importantly, how I respond and react to the things she sees.

The thing I've learnt about kids (and I'm not just a mum, I used to be a child care worker as well) is that they are not dumb. They might be little, and they might speak in cutesy little voices, but they're a lot smarter than people give them credit for and are quite capable of telling the difference between grown up things and kids things. For example my daughter knows that she cannot have a glass of wine with her dinner. Why not? Because that's a grown up thing for mummies and daddies. She also knows that after 7:30 pm she has to go to bed. Why? Because that's mummy and daddy time. If I tell her something is for grown-ups she understands and accepts it, so if she was to ask me what the magazine on the shelf is I have quite a lot of confidence that when I tell her it's a book for grown-ups she will heed it.

When, however, she is confronted in the toy aisle with a Bratz Doll Costume, complete with off-the-shoulder peasant top and mini skirt, I'm not too sure what to say. It's the sort of costume I personally might wear to a Saints and Sinners ball, but would feel mighty uncomfortable about letting my 7 year old daughter wear to a fancy dress party.

This is what I wanted to say to Noni as I felt her disapproval in me and my chosen profession weighing heavily on my shoulders. Seriously, I felt like I used to feel when I had to tell my parents I'd been in detention for wagging; Their eyes would drop, their disappointment in me almost palpable, and I would feel so ashamed I had let them down.

I wanted to ask Noni why she was giving our children and us as parents such little credit? Why she was focusing on adult products made for adults and lumping us in with irresponsible and dare I use the phrase “corporate peodophiles” who market adult products to children. Couldn't she see the difference? And anyway, I also thought to myself, what is wrong with nudity and sexuality anyway? It's okay for kids to know grown-ups enjoy sex. In fact, I'd rather they know it's a good thing rather than a horrible, scary, don't-do-it-or-you'll-go-to-hell thing any day.

But I said none of these things (although I may have ranted on my Facebook page about them) and I just accepted the fact that I disagreed with her and figured that, just because I felt a bit insulted by her stance, she was entitled to her opinion and I could still sing I'm a little teapot with her without feeling like I'd let down my side of the team.

Let me now take you to the bit where I become confused. By now I am sure everyone has heard of the book doing the rounds on the internet and selling highly on Amazon called “Go The F*ck To Sleep”. It's great! A wonderful little rhyme where a parent is begging their child to please stop crying and go the f*ck to sleep because it's late and the parents want to watch a movie. If you've ever had kids I can guarantee you've felt like this at one time or another. The book is beautifully illustrated and in the form of a picture book and is something I'm kind of hoping makes it under my Christmas tree this year. There is a fantastic audio version too with Samuel L Jackson reading the story in his stern, yet smooth voice which gives me wonderful tingles!

So anyway, the latest offering of this fabulous book is a video. A video of Noni Hazlehurst, sitting in an arm chair, with her beautiful crinkly-eyed smile and her Play School voice, reading the story to us, just as I remember her doing all those times over the past thirty years.

As the parent in the story gets increasingly frustrated at their child's refusal to sleep, so does Noni's voice rise and fall and her head nod and eyes smile. It really is fabulously nostalgic to watch.

But hang on, I thought again, isn't this completely hypocritcal of her? Why is a book that looks like a children's picture book, full of swear words and frustration, okay but a magazine with a girl in a swimsuit on it isn't? Is it because there isn't a bikini girl on the cover? Is it because it's funny? Is it because in Noni's mind overt swearing is more acceptable than nudity? Or is it because she knows us grown-ups are smart enough to realise that this is a book for adults and isn't one we would actually read to or give to our kids... Oh wait... Hang on...
And this is where I am confused.

To me convincing your child that a book that looks like a picture book with its gorgeous illustrations and large, easy-to-read print is actually for grown-ups is way harder than telling them that the magazine on the shop counter with the girl in the bikini on it is not for them. Personally I would much rather my daughter be comfortable in her own skin and accepting other people for theirs than her being comfortable swearing like a sailor, but maybe that's just me?

***Author's Note: A the time of just completing this little rant I went back to YouTube to find the video so I could post a link to it...

It seems YouTube have removed the video as they say it violates their policy on the depiction of harmful activities. I must say, I wonder how Noni feels about her video being censored like that? Perhaps they think it's harming children?

Is this irony or just another example of people being nannied to within an inch of their freedom of expression? Or perhaps it is a little of both.