There are a couple of things to say about Malcolm Turnbull’s comedy routine at the Midwinter Ball – the big annual charity bash that is Australia’s equivalent of the White House Correspondents’ Dinner in Washington.



The first thing to say about the speech is the prime minister’s characterisation of his own outing is correct – it was as much about laughing at himself as it was about laughing at a certain world leader who one suspects doesn’t like being laughed at.

Turnbull’s internal critics and the culture warriors intent on making his life a misery will doubtless construe it as an act of recklessness, a terrible misjudgment, a burst of self-indulgence (am I on the right path here, Andrew, Alan, Ray?) – but in the room, he was having a laugh, pure and simple – at himself, at Donald Trump, at the whole crazy business of politics.

The second thing to say about Turnbull’s comments is they were very clearly news, not only local news, but world news, from the moment they left the prime minister’s mouth.

Everyone in the room knew it. Turnbull, not being born yesterday, would have certainly known it.

I spent much of Thursday of ropable that I was in possession of material that I regarded as newsworthy yet was bound by a convention that had been imposed by an arbitrary decree: that speeches at the event are off the record.

Seriously, why do I deserve to know that information, and my readers don’t? I respected the convention, with gritted teeth, until the material hit the public domain, and in fact I’m still bloody respecting it.

Turnbull made some other interesting remarks as well, not nearly as newsworthy, but worth sharing because they provide some insight. I’m seriously irritated about the fact I can’t share them.

So I’m not the least bit surprised that the remarks leaked. I’d be amazed if the prime minister were surprised it leaked.

There were about 1,000 people in the room on Wednesday night. Many of them weren’t journalists. Presumably the chief executives, the lobbyists, the spinners, the sponsors and the rubberneckers were not bound by any undertakings about the event being off the record.

I’ve been saying for years that the parliamentary press gallery shouldn’t be bound by that undertaking either. The undertaking, in the context of the event, is patently absurd.

The convention of off the record is a vital one for journalism. It is a convention journalists use to deepen their understanding of issues, and to convince people with something to lose that it is OK to talk, that they will be protected.

Off the record is a serious professional undertaking which journalists use to inform their readers and protect their sources. That’s what it’s for. It’s important, and shouldn’t be breached.

But does a prime minister, delivering a speech in front of 1,000 people (including a bunch of non-journalists, who are free to subsequently deploy the material as dinner-party repartee), really need protection as a source? Like, seriously?

Just think about how ludicrous that idea is.

So let’s be clear. Off the record should not be invoked to protect an insiders’ club – it should not be a mechanism so we can keep the chortles and conversation in-house. That’s a perversion of a professional obligation. It’s a serious shark jump.

And if the parliamentary press gallery goes on, meekly and obediently, signing up to such a ridiculous convention for this event – then, seriously – we deserve all the criticism we get.