Being brought to book

The defamation case brought against book publishers Random House by prominent Liberal federal ministers Peter Costello and Tony Abbott resurrected some unpleasant memories for me.
Upon my retirement from active public life several years ago, my good lady wife Devon suggested I pen my memoirs.
While not wanting to sound immodest, I do admit my life as a career bureaucrat serving governments of various political hues has been somewhat eventful – spanning as it did the years from the Great Depression, the turmoil of World War 2, right through the bountiful 50s, turbulent 60s and on to the challenging 90s.
I mused on Devon’s suggestion for several days, while she was busy – unbeknownst to me – renting and equipping a small near-city office for the task.
She readily acknowledged that I had a big job ahead of me; one best tackled by spending many hours of each day away from her and our home.
I pay tribute to her selflessness. But, I digress. In the end, when I sat down and inserted the first blank sheet of paper into the upright manual Remington which Devon had kindly bought me, I realised my life could never be told in just one book.
I resolved there and then to write several volumes, each covering a different aspect of my career.
Fortunately, I am not without considerable experience as an author.
My first book, which enjoyed a limited release before being withdrawn from sale, suffered the same tragic flaw as the Bob Ellis tome now subject to scrutiny by an ACT court.
I must say I can sympathise with Mr Ellis. Although I have never met the man, we not only share the agony of authorship but of litigation resulting from our musings.
For me, the trouble began when I presented my first book, Minutes to Live, to my publisher (who shall remain nameless, having succumbed to bankruptcy some years ago).
The book editor assigned to me – a lass far too young for the job, in my opinion – was initially impressed by the catchy title, saying it promised potential readers action and drama.
However, when I pointed out the subtitle – The History of Transcription Services for Senate Committee Hearings – her attitude changed markedly.
Against my better judgement, I agreed to insert what can only be described as some rather lively gossip into one of the chapters.
My editor told me it would “spice up” the book and make it more marketable. For me, it was a lesson that, like Mr Ellis, I lived to regret.
Unfortunately, very few of my former public sector colleagues turned up for the book launch – performed admirably, I must say, by former Assistant Manager of Hansard Support Services, Lorna Snatchbreat.
Lorna – a statuesque woman with a ready wit but an unfortunate speech impediment – gave a short but adequate speech at the launch party held at the Commonwealth Public Service Club in Canberra.
I must admit that in the following days I took secret delight in roaming bookshops just to see my work on the shelves, with my name on its cover.
My suspicions that I had written a bestseller were fanned when I couldn’t find a single copy in any of several outlets I visited.
My delight was shortlived, however. Within a week of the launch my publisher’s lawyers received a writ for huge damages for alleged defamatory remarks contained in my book.
The action was brought by several prominent Liberal Party politicians who believed my book cast a slur on their good reputation by suggesting they had been involved in some type of salacious sexual liaison.
Here – for the first time since that case – is the offending passage:
By early 1971 young John Howard was experimenting with xxxxxxxxxxxxx with the full support of Tony Staley, a handsome man in anyone’s eyes who also wasn’t averse to xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx according to Andrew Peacock - a long-time xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.
Peacock was famous for throwing xxxxxxxxxxx parties at his Toorak mansion which often featured xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx and a tray full of xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx served by young xxxxxxxxxxxxxx clad only in xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx with very short xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx while the young men all had very long xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.
Susan Peacock would often offer guests xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx in one of the upstairs rooms. Eyewitnesses at one such xxxxxxxxxxxxx party remember Howard swallowing xxxxxxxxxxxx while Staley was trying to xxxxxxxxxxxxxx up his mandate.
To cut a long story short, the action failed – after a protracted and expensive court case – and I was left feeling vindicated, if somewhat bruised.
The book was unfortunately pulped prior to the verdict and has never been republished.

XXXXXXXXX Deleted on legal advice.

Rufus Badinage MBE, now retired, is one of Australia’s leading
experts on politics and public administration having worked as a
senior bureaucrat for various state and federal governments.