I've worn many hats during my career. You might know me as the author of Die Laughing, the biography of Bill Leak, the late, great Australian artist, cartoonist, writer, musician and raconteur who was an early conscript to the war that all decent and intelligent people now find themselves fighting, which is — not to put too fine a point on it — to save what’s left of our civilisation from Godless globalists and nihilistic political narcissists.

Bill was kind, funny, gregarious, talented and uncompromisingly honest, not least about his own flaws. This naturally got him in trouble with Islamists, whose threats forced him and his family to move house and into hiding. His many leftist friends also eventually also turned on him, mistaking his honesty for racism. He wore their opprobrium with pride, knowing that truth would be his vindication.

Or perhaps you saw my nightly show on ADH TV, a small conservative network in Australia, where I wore a suit and tried to expound bold opinions with the gusto of a talkback radio host. I was okay at it, but my laidback upbringing among ratbag surfers made me ill-suited to shouting at a camera in a darkened studio. I'm still covering the same topics here, but with the wry amusement and sardonic contempt I think they truly deserve.

Or perhaps you’ve followed my 10-year campaign to cull lethal sharks that come near people at Australian beaches. It has been a long campaign. A small fraternity of marine scientists have emerged who not only protect these creatures, they love them. These ghouls are as curious about these animals as they are indifferent to the horrifying injuries and deaths they increasingly cause. They spout environmental virtues, but that can never obscure the darkness in their hearts.

These scientists are emblematic of the problems we face almost everywhere these days: self-appointed "experts" making life hell for everyone else. Secular humanism might once have seemed like the logical and positive conclusion to the Enlightenment, but we now know what it really leads to: ambitious technocrats promoting themselves into positions of power, which they wield with whatever sadism is necessary to preserve their own lucrative privileges.

Or perhaps you have encountered my writing in such publications as The Spectator, The Australian, GQ Australia, The Daily Telegraph, Stab Magazine and more. I love writing, and think I'm rather good at it. So good, in fact, that I am one of the few Australian journalists who after more than three decades of prodigiously high output has not received a single award from the elite circle-jerkers of the industry, which they routinely hand out to dullards for producing formulaic drivel. If my mantelpiece must bear accolades, they are genuinely heartfelt ones from my regular readers, of which I have many.

So I hope you enjoy the content you find here. To help me produce more of it, please consider supporting me on Substack or at Buy Me a Coffee.