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Keywords: Slow Horses

  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    How 'Slow Horses' became the show of the moment

    • Juliette Hughes
    • 12 September 2024

    Slow Horses is one of those dramas that are even better than the books they’re based on. The TV series is blessed by having Gary Oldman as Jackson Lamb, the grisly spy-genius with a preternatural instinct for sniffing out hidden agendas. 

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  • ECONOMICS

    Supply to survive

    • Julian Butler
    • 31 March 2022
    1 Comment

    In 2020 as the Covid-19 pandemic raged globally, as Australia shut its borders and some states shut in their people, massive government income support was introduced. The government was a little slow coming to recognise the need for such measures. Once they had, they wanted the support rolled out as quickly as possible. Frydenberg, Scott Morrison and their colleagues recognised that a demand side boost was absolutely necessary to sustain economic activity. The government was uncomfortable, though, with this approach.  

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Angry poets society

    • Barry Gittins
    • 16 July 2020
    11 Comments

    Identifying the true nature of things, and capturing their horror or charm? Let’s give it a crack. I recognised and recognise still that there are few humans who will ever approach Les Murray's heights of linguistic mastery and vision of life. But one thing I felt I had in common with Les, apart from our shared rustic heritage, was anger.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Headland daydreaming

    • Peter Ramm
    • 30 September 2019
    2 Comments

    This place is new to my son, who doesn't know that satin bowerbirds pilfer the brush ... He's busy tracing each scribble in each gum, and my hands are full of his hands, faintly heavy — faintly delicate. A towering deciduous fig hangs over us; its branches are neural pathways, thin at their tips the way memories thin in time.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    The aquarium's tapestry of colour and light

    • Edith Speers
    • 15 September 2015
    3 Comments

    The jelly fish are fringed silk shawls ... the anemones are embroidery samplers ... the coral is not calcified not brittle hard as bone ... the prettiest fish are fabric for blouses made of silk.

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  • Maintaining the humanity of the public square

    • Greg O'Kelly
    • 01 July 2015
    3 Comments

    The phrase 'the public square' is peppered throughout Frank Brennan's work. The 1988 film Cinema Paradiso depicts the public square in a Sicilian village over 30 or so years, and its slow and subtle change from a place where human beings gather to laugh, play and discuss. Billboards and garish signs appear and it becomes a car park bereft of its humanity.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    As politicians evoke conflict a century past

    • Various
    • 21 April 2015
    4 Comments

    In airport lounges, off to foreign hells... They come and go like fatigued FIFO workers day and night; partners waiting for their safe return, might be the only show. No protest march, no ticker tape parade.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    In memory of Leo

    • Diane Fahey
    • 24 March 2015
    8 Comments

    'If I'm deported back to Sri Lanka, torture is certain because I'm a Tamil.' On the day I hear of Leo's death I pass a tall maple, its star-like leaves, blood-red and flame-red, irradiated. The Australian government refused the visas applied for by Leo's family so that they might attend his funeral. As three Tamil men at a microphone sing a long hymn in Tamil the Basilica fills with an undertow of sound.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Car park hunger

    • Brendan Ryan
    • 26 August 2014
    1 Comment

    A topless man shuffles into Coles. The Big Issue seller is liked and avoided. Buskers who specialize with the night, streetlights mooning the spaces that never close.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Clean, bright, efficient death

    • Kristin Hannaford
    • 11 February 2014
    1 Comment

    The abattoir to the left funnels steam into the night, a long slow drag exhaled by a thousand beasts, also travelling tonight. Poor cattle, horses, and pigs. Some days, the air is so bloodthick it hinges at the back of the throat, a glottal of rusty muck. Not tonight though. The air is winter clear, glassy.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    What my daughter wrote

    • Mark Tredinnick
    • 26 November 2013
    8 Comments

    She said I was 52 and weighed 68kg and stood one-and-a-half metres tall, and some of that is right. She said my hair was brown and that my brown beard prickled her when I kissed her ... She said she loved me because I hugged her all the time (but who could not?) ... He buys me Toys from Sydney, she had written — as if toys were spices and Sydney were Tashkent.

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  • AUSTRALIA

    Wotjobaluk man

    • As told by William John Kennedy Snr
    • 08 July 2006
    1 Comment

    William John Kennedy Snr. is the oldest male Aboriginal elder in the State of Victoria. He fought in the Second World War. He worked on the railways. He campaigned for land rights. And he just happens to be my grandfather. To most people he’s known as ‘Uncle Jack’, but to me, he’s ‘Pop’. This is his story.

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