When Fairfax journalist Peter Munro was digging around on the story about the dinner, the privacy of the whole affair was paramount. Abbott's office said: ''We do not release details of the Prime Minister's private functions.'' There was also a series of follow-up questions about who was paying for the feast and drinkies. Those inquiries were met with steadfast silence, so it is fairly safe to assume that this private function was paid for by the public. Akerman also held the line, telling Munro: ''I don't talk about my private life. I'm a working journalist. I don't talk about my relations with other people.'' Of course, senior politicians have little pocket-moistening sessions with compliant stooges in the media, lunches, drinks, dinners, following by tips and leaks for dessert. In the good old days when Robert Menzies ran the country, there was a fairly compliant press gallery. Ming would occasionally pat them on the head and let them have a whiskey in his office.

Prime ministerial briefings of editors are a regular feature of the landscape. But last Saturday in Kirribilli was different. The fact that the guests were right-wing advocates and overwhelmingly came from News Corp reinforced the uniqueness of the occasion. In the main this was a clutch of the freshly minted PM's favourite Murdoch claqueurs being thanked for their reliable coverage of the Coalition and their relentlessly toxic demolition of the Labor government. You might argue that they were, in the main, columnists and opinionists and so entitled to act as boosters for whomever they liked. That is only part of the story. On occasions, columnists break out of the caged perimeters of the opinion pages and spruik something in the news pages. In any event, their lord and master Rupert Murdoch sees no difference - as he once famously put it, ''opinion is news''. There was a time when journalists, whether they called themselves reporters or columnists, saw it as their duty to be agin whoever was in power. Holding the government to account, and all that. To be outside looking in was a journalistic virtue. It meant the fourth estate was not acting as an outrigger for favoured political aspirants or causes. What that dinner shows us is the extent to which journalism in this country has mutated, and that carries important implications for our democracy.

All new governments on day one say they will govern for ''all Australians'' and then promptly set about governing for their sponsors and cronies. Selected media voices are now seen to be part of that cronyism, where reporter and politician are locked in a mutually rewarding clinch. Don't expect too many stinking rebukes of the Abbott government from this bunch. To change from booster to critic is not a credible transition. No wonder it suited everyone to try to keep the affair secret. If these people obey the rules, there'll be more dinners and more leaks. Those invited but didn't attend, for whatever reason, were very wise. Possibly one of the crumbs to fall from the PM's table was the story of how the Australian War Memorial was, at one point, going to delete ''known unto God'' from the inscription on the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. The idea was that it might be replaced with words from a speech by Paul Keating: ''We do not know this Australian's name, we never will. He is one of them and he is all of us.'' ''After complaints to the Abbott government, the original words will be retained,'' wrote one of the dinner guests in Monday's Daily Telegraph. In other words, this was a story about something that didn't happen, but the proposed new inscription was described by Miranda Devine as ''like an absurd atheist fantasy''. Pure speculation, but it's neat that the story appeared in Murdoch papers just after the din-dins with Tony Abbott.

Naturally, I'm livid my invitation was mysteriously lost in the mail. Twitter: @JustinianNews