Closet

Closet (pronounced kloz-it)

(1) A small room, enclosed recess, cupboard or cabinet for storing clothing, food, utensils etc.

(2) A small private room, especially one used for prayer, meditation etc.

(3) A state or condition of secrecy or carefully guarded privacy.

(4) A clipping of “closet of ease” or “closet of decency” and later “water closet” (WC), early names for the flushing loo (toilet; lavatory; privy with a waste-pipe and means to carry off the discharge by a flush of water).

(5) Of or pertaining to that which is private; secluded or concealed; undertaken unobserved and in isolation.

(6) To shut up in a private room for some purpose.

(7) A private room used by women to groom and dress themselves (obsolete).

(8) A private room used for prayer or other devotions (archaic).

(9) A place of (usually either fanciful or figurative in that typically it referred to the state of thought rather than where it took place) contemplation and theorizing (archaic).

(10) The private residence or private council chamber of a monarch accompanied by a staff establishment (page of the chamber; clerk of the closet etc) and related to the bedchamber (archaic).

(11) In a church, a pew or side-chapel reserved for a monarch or feudal lord (regarded as obsolete but the concept endures in that the order of precedence is often used when seating is allocated for ceremonial events conducted in churches).

(12) In heraldry, an ordinary similar to a bar but half the width.

(13) A sewer (Scots dialectical, now obsolete).

(14) The state of maintaining one's sexual orientation as a secret (“closeted” “in the closet”, “closet case” etc).

1300-1350: From the Middle English closet (a small private room for study or prayer), from the Old French closet (small enclosure, private room), the construct being clos (private space; enclosure) +‎ -et (the suffix used to form diminutives), from the Latin clausum (closed space, enclosure, confinement), the neuter past participle of claudere (to shut).  In French, it tended to be applied to small, open-air enclosures.  The suffix –et was from the Middle English -et, from the Old French –et & its feminine variant -ette, from the Late Latin -ittus (and the other gender forms -itta & -ittum).  It was used to form diminutives, loosely construed.  Some European languages picked up the Old French spelling while others used variations including Czech (klozet) & Spanish (clóset).  Closets can be tiny or fair-sized rooms so the appropriate synonym depends on context and architecture and might include: cabinet, container, locker, room, vault, wardrobe, bin, buffet, depository, receptacle, recess, repository, safe, sideboard, walk-in, ambry, chest of drawers & cold storage.  Closet is a noun, verb & adjective, closeting, closetful & closetry are nouns & verbs, closetlike & closety are adjectives, closeted is a verb & adjective; the noun plural is closets.

The adjective dates from the 1680s in the sense of “private, done in seclusion”, extended by 1782 as "fitted only for scholarly seclusion, not adapted to the conditions of practical life" (ie in the sense of the “ivory tower”).  The meaning "secret, not public, unknown" was first applied to alcoholism in the early 1950s but by the 1970s had come to be used principally (probably exclusively) of homosexuality.  This, and the earlier forms (closet anarchist, closet alcoholic, closet Freemason, closet smoker etc) were all based on the idiomatic “skeleton in the closet” (which existed also as “skeleton in the cupboard”), describing some undisclosed fact which, if revealed would cause reputational damage (or worse) to a person.  Literally, the imagery summoned was of someone with a human corpse secreted in a closet in their house, one which had sat there so long the flesh had decomposed to the bone.  The earliest known appearance in print was in 1816 but it’s not known how long it’d been in oral use and it usually implied culpability for some serious offence though not necessarily anything involving a corpse.

A walk-in closet.  To optimize space utilization, the hangers are very thin and covered with black velvet to ensure no fabrics are marked.  In a well-organized closet, items can be arranged in a number of ways such as color, season or type and some do it by manufacturer, the name of the label printed on rail-tags.

The phrase “come out of the closet” (admit something openly) was first recorded 1963 and the use rapidly became exclusive to homosexuals, lending a new sense to the word “out”.  This meaning itself became nuanced: “To come out” (openly avowing one's homosexuality) emerged as a phrase in the 1960s and was an overtly political statement (obviously different from the earlier “a confessed homosexual”) whereas “outing” and “outed” came to be used in the 1970s to refer to people making the homosexuality of others public knowledge.  Outing became controversial because of the argument (made sometimes by those within the gay community) that it was justified if exposing hypocrisy (usually a conservative politician who publicly condemned homosexuality while in private indulging in the practice).  In Spanish use (most notably in Latin America) the noun clóset is used to refer to the state of being secretly gay (from salir del clóset), the plural being clósets.

Lindsay Lohan in part of her walk-in closet, here choosing what to pack for an appearance at the Cannes Film Festival, May 2014.

The verb closet (shut up as in a closet) was originally usually for purposes of concealment or private consultation and dates from the 1680s.  The water closet (WC and described also in the helpfully descriptive terms “closet of ease” or “closet of decency”) was the ancestor of the familiar modern loo (toilet; lavatory; privy with a waste-pipe and means to carry off the discharge by a flush of water), the term first used in 1755 and later perfected by the famous plumber, Mr Thomas Crapper.  The phrase “walk-in” was used first in the 1890s as a slang term by hotel check-in clerks to refer to those arriving without a reservation (it’s now a standard statistical category in hotels) and by 1928 was used in many forms of commerce to mean “customer who arrived without an appointment”.  The “walk-in closet” was first advertised in the US in 1946 where it described a built-in wardrobe large enough to walk into, (some equipped with mirrors, tables, chairs etc) although, among the rich, such structures had for centuries been in use.

The Gay Bob Doll

Gay Bob; note the man-bag.

There’s evidence that for much of human existence, homosexuality has been at least widely tolerated and often accepted but in the West, under the influence of the Christian churches, it came to attract much disapprobation though even in the nineteenth century there were those who (without much success) campaigned for legislative and social change, the odd self-declared homosexual sometimes urging others to out themselves.  However, it wasn’t until the 1960s that the still embryonic “gay liberation” movement understood that “coming out en masse” was of importance because with critical mass came political influence.  Social attitudes did change and it was perhaps an indication of acceptance that in 2005 the cartoon show South Park could run an episode called Trapped in the Closet in which the Scientologist film star Tom Cruise (b 1962) refuses to come out of a closet (the episode entered industry jargon as “closetgate”).  Not discouraged by the threat of writs, South Park later featured an episode in which the actor worked in a confectionery factory packing fudge and was labelled a “fudge packer”.  Attitudes and legislative changes didn't always move in unison and things unfolded gradually but that process was still incomplete when, in 1977, the Gay Bob doll was released.  There is probably no phrase that better encapsulates gender-role stereotyping than “girls play with dolls and boys play with trucks” though, in the narrow technical sense, boys have long “sort of” had their own dolls because toy soldiers are (in a sense) a “doll” but everybody understands the difference and nobody confuses the two.

Gay Bob in his closet (with accessories and instructions).

That was what made the Gay Bob doll so subversive: it used a form structurally similar to the dolls parents had for generations bought for their daughters but was obviously something different and vested with a political message.  Even today, such a doll might be controversial (certainly in some countries or US states) but in 1977 when Gay Bob was released, the world was a different place.  Interestingly, some critics now argue that while in the West the legislative environment has become more liberal (same-sex marriage now lawful in many jurisdictions) the liberalization in social attitudes achieved in the decades since the mid-1970s have in some regions or sectors of the population reverted.

Clothes and accessories were available, including those for dressing the “gay farmer”.

By 1977, the winds of change clearly were blowing because in that year Harvey Milk (1930–1978; member of the San Francisco Board of Supervisors, 1978) became the first openly gay man elected to public office in California (it’ll never be known how many of his predecessors were closeted).  However, if Milk was out of the closet, Gay Bob was delivered neatly packaged in his own (cardboard) closet, buyers able to “out him” or put him back as circumstances dictated.  Designed as something of a caricature of popular film & television stars of the era, Gay Bob’s creator described the doll as perfect for “…an executive’s desk, dash board ornament, the attaché case, the bathtub rim or a health club gym bag”.  Of course, among the homophobic, Gay Bob could always be repurposed as a voodoo doll upon which unspeakable acts of violence could be visited so that was another niche market.  A notable feature was the doll’s “anatomical correctness”, presumably a sales feature but one that necessitated production being out-sourced to Hong-Kong because US manufacturers declined the contract. 

Gay Bob stepping out of the closet.

Just so there were no misunderstandings, Gay Bob was supplied with a fashion catalogue including an explanation:  Hi boys, girls and grownups, I’m Gay Bob, the world’s first gay doll.  I bet you are wondering why I come packed in a closet. “Coming out of the closet” is an expression which means that you admit the truth about yourself and are no longer ashamed of what you are.  Gay people are no different than straight people.  If everyone came out of their closets, there wouldn’t be so many angry, frustrated, frightened people.  It’s not easy to be honest about what you are, in fact it takes a great deal of courage.  But remember, if Gay Bob has the courage to come out of his closet, so can you! With an attitude like that, one can see why Gay Bob was such a threat. 

Popular since the nineteenth century, mail-order was the on-line shopping of the analogue era.  Lee Harvey Oswald (1939–1963) purchased the rifle (a military surplus 6.5 mm Carcano) he used to assassinate John Kennedy (JFK, 1917–1963; POTUS 1961-1963) via mail-order for US$19.95 plus US$1.50 P&H.

Conservative activists were of course appalled by Gay Bob, his anatomical correctness and threateningly optimistic message, describing it all as “a threat to family values” and more “…evidence of the desperation the homosexual campaign has reached in its effort to put homosexual lifestyle, which is a death style, across to the American people”.  The forces of capitalism either agreed or were unwilling to risk a backlash because attempts have the big department stores stock Gay Bob on their shelves were unsuccessful so the doll was sold via mail order, advertisements placed in gay magazines.  One doll cost US$19.50 (including P&H within the US) while a pair could be purchased at a discounted US$35.00 (and to take advantage of the anatomical correctness, buying a brace would presumably have been in vogue.)  Over 2,000 were sold within months and in liberal cities like New York and San Francisco and while some boutiques would later carry the product, it's unlikely any were seen on shelves south of the Mason-Dixon Line.  Something of a footnote to the LGBTQQIAAOP timeline, Gay Bob is a now a collector’s item, examples in good condition realizing over US$200 at on-line auction sites and those with a pristine, un-violated closet will command a premium.  That's the charming paradox: While Gay Bob existed as part of a movement to make easier “coming out of the closet”, among collectors, the doll is now most valued if Gay Bob remains sealed in.

The other Romish way

In the Closet of the Vatican by Frédéric Martel (b 1967).

The author of In the Closet of the Vatican was what used to be called “a confessed homosexual” and the book was a study of what the publisher described as “an account of corruption and hypocrisy at the heart of the Vatican”.  Blurbs of course rely on punchy phrases but it might have been better to suggest “some of corruption and hypocrisy” because the focus very much was on the matter of the “substantially gay priesthood” within the upper reaches of the Roman Catholic Church and some of the implications of that state, a central thesis being “the greater a prelate’s homophobia, the more likely it is he is gay”  “Behind rigidity there is always something hidden, in many cases a double life” was how Francis (1936-2025; pope 2013-2025) put it.  Remarkably, a large number of priests, bishops and cardinals agreed to be interviewed and while they did discuss topics such as the condemnation of the use of contraceptives, cases of sexual abuse by clergy and the collective misogyny of the priesthood, what emerged also was an amusing picture of an institution beset by internecine squabbles, careerism and Masonic-like plotting and scheming; in other words, within the Vatican’s corridors, things are pretty much the same as institutions everywhere.  It’s an entertaining read and one who emerges as a sympathetic figure is Benedict XVI (1927–2022; pope 2005-2013, pope emeritus 2013-2022), a theologian of pure thought overwhelmed by what he came to realize what his pontificate was confronting; he resigned because he realized not only could he not do what needed to be done but probably it couldn’t be done by anyone and, at least debatably, his successors have “solved” the problem by “doing other things”, taking the view it’s better to achieve small successes somewhere.

Titus Oates in the pillory as a punishment for perjury (1685), engraving by unknown artist.

The notion of the Vatican as “the world’s biggest closet” is of course amusing but the matter of a “network of gay clergy” probably has existed for a thousand years or more although in recent decades it has become better documented and, well before the scale of clerical sex abuse of minors became public knowledge, diaries and memoirs often contained sometimes oblique references to the phenomenon, even Hermann Göring (1893–1946; leading Nazi 1922-1945, Hitler's designated successor & Reichsmarschall 1940-1945) (an unlikely lay-theologian) remarking to one of the prison psychologists at the first Nuremberg Trial (1945-1946) of his impressions of young men and their mentors he’d observed during a visit to a seminary.  Centuries before, Titus Oates (1649-1705), at various times an Anglican and Roman Catholic priest (both offices held through some form of fraud, his life summed up by one historian as: “By birth an Anabaptist, by prudence a clergyman, by profession a perjurer”) had crafted a career as “a part-time religious conspirator and full-time homosexual” that saw him in 1685 sentenced to life imprisonment, the highlight of which was to be “…whipped through the streets of London five days a year for the remainder of his life”.  At least one public whipping was carried out, a diarist noting of one account: “I heard him say that he saw Oates, that discovered the Popish Plot, whipped according to his condemnation most miserably; and as he was hauled up the streets the multitude would much pity him, and would cry to the hangman or he whose office was to whip him, ‘Enough! Strike easy!’  To whom Mr Oates replied, turning his head cheerfully behind him, ‘Not enough! good people, for truth, not enough.’  That showed a certain commitment to the cause but it was the historian John Philipps “J.P.” Kenyon (1927–1996) in The Popish Plot (1973) who had an interesting slant of what was even then clearly the Catholic Church’s “structural closetism”: “The fact that Oates was an active and practising homosexual has always been known, but historians have evaded one obvious conclusion; that this explains the astonishing ease with which he was admitted to certain Catholic circles which one would have supposed barred a disreputable Anglican clergyman with heterodox leanings.”

The Church has a well-know position (some prefer “fudge”) on the subject, the official teaching being an inclination for same-sex attraction is “an objective moral disorder” yet it remains “not a sin to be gay” but it is sinful “if one succumbs and acts on the inclination” (ie you can have your cake but not eat it).  Neatly that encapsulates the advice a potential sinner’s confessor would be compelled to provide: “Stay in the closet my son”.  While not a book of verifiable statistics, Martel does quote the estimate of the pope’s former chief Latinist that “up to 80% of the Vatican staff could be gay” and while (one hopes) that’s impressionistic, such an official might be thought a NRS (normally reliable source) and while “80%” must be treated as “rubbery”, it does hint the real number would be “big”.  Martel’s point of course was the number was significant only in the content of the consequences and hypocrisy inherent in such a cabal administering a church with rigid doctrinal positions on just about anything to do with sex and gender and one gay priest did provide nuance to the “Vatican as a closet” model by suggesting it was more the place being “a honeycomb of closets” in which dozens of groups, factions and alliances all operated with their own secrets and while “everybody knew they had secrets”, they were known only to a few.  Counterintuitively, reaction to the book by the church establishment was one almost of relief because, while the interviews reputedly were extensive, what was published usually stopped short of “naming names” or detailing times and places unless such details were already in the public domain: there were no appendices of incriminating documents or other “smoking guns”.  So, from the Holy See came an almost dismissive “nothing to see here” which probably can be deconstructed as “our lawyers found nothing actionable” but reviewers generally were positive and, while acknowledging the limitations, did commend the word for its breadth of approach and sheer entertainment value although several did grumble about the lack of an index; the most diligent readers will seek the digital version. 

Ellipsis

Ellipsis (pronounced ih-lip-sis)

(1) In grammar, the omission from a sentence or other construction of one or more words that would complete or clarify the construction.

(2) In grammar, the omission of one or more items from a construction in order to avoid repeating the identical or equivalent items that are in a preceding or following construction.

(3) In grammar, a sequence of three dots (…) appearing in a text to indicate a pause, sometimes used for dramatic effect such as a “wait for it” moment.

(4) In typography, a mark or marks (——;* * *; … etc) to indicate an omission or suppression of letters or words.  The sequence of three dots (…) is now the most common (four if used at the end of a sentence, the last a period (full stop).  In linguistics jargon, the “three dots” are also called “suspension dots” or “suspension points”.

(5) In mathematics, the use of such a convention to indicate a pattern continues (ie in “1, 2, 3, ..., 8, 9”, the numerals “4, 5, 6, and 7” are “implied” and thus “mentally included “as part of the pattern.  As a digital representation of the vulgar fraction “one third”, “0.333…” means it’s a “repeating decimal”, having “threes” going on to infinity, tending always towards (but never quite reaching “one third”).

(6) In geometry, an ellipse (obsolete though, confusingly, the adjectival elliptical endures).

(7) In film & television production, the omission of scenes that do not advance the plot.

(8) As vertical ellipsis (⋮), three dots) vertically aligned, used to extend a list vertically, or as mathematical notation for “is divisible by” or “is a multiple of” and latterly adopted in computer GUIs (graphical user interface) for various purposes, notably the “Customize and Control” drop-down menu in Google’s Chrome web browser (although Microsoft Edge and some other browsers based on the open source Chromium use a horizontal three dots).

1560–1570: An unadapted borrowing from the Latin ellīpsis, from the Ancient Greek ἔλλειψις (élleipsis) (omission; a falling short, defect), noun of action from elleipein (to fall short, leave out), from en- (in the sense of “in”) + leip- (stem of leípein (to leave) + -sis.  Leipein was reconstructed to be from the primitive Indo-European root leikw- (to leave).  The –sis suffix was from the Ancient Greek -σις (-sis) and was used to forms noun of action), often via Latin but increasingly also from French; it had exactly the same effect as the Latin –entia and the English -ing.  Historically, the use in terms borrowed from Ancient Greek was comparatively rare but there are many modern coinages based on Ancient Greek roots, reflecting to ongoing reverence for the ancient languages.  Confusingly, the word elliptical needs detailed explanation.  As an adjective, elliptical can mean (1) in geometry, in a shape of, or reminding of, an ellipse; oval or (2) in linguistics of, or showing ellipsis (having a word or words omitted); relating to or containing an instance of ellipsis or (3), of speech, concise or condensed.  The geometric use is also specific in botany, elliptical referring only to the general shape of the object (typically a leaf), independently of its apex or margin (and sometimes the base), so that an “elliptic leaf” may at both ends be pointed.  A three-dimensional elliptical object is ellipsoid, while an object that is not a perfectly stretched circle is ovoid or obovoid (and to mathematicians, a circle is a type of elipse).  In the gym equipment business, am “elliptical trainer” is an exercise machine in which the feet of the user travel an elliptic path; they’re used to simulate stair climbing, walking, or running while offering the advantage of being “low impact”, meaning there’s less jarring to inflict excessive pressure on joints.  The synonym is eclipsis (omission of parts of a word or sentence).  Ellipsis, ellipsization & ellipsism are nouns, elliptical is a noun & adjective and elliptically is an adverb, the noun plural is ellipses.

In classical and medieval texts, ellipses were unmarked, but the practice of marking them originated in the scripts of late sixteenth century plays as a way to indicate the “imperfections of the voice”, the omissions, pauses and interruptions fundamental to spoken language (seen in the modern day discipline of “disfluencies”, something of a backwater in linguistics until the importance of the phenomenon in “natural language” was recognized by those developing AI (artificial intelligence) bots).  All those years ago, those inserting ellipsis marks all had much the same purpose but there was initially no standardization of form, a continuous rule (-), a series of hyphens (---), or a series of points (. . .) all used, and which appeared reflected sometimes the practice of the printer (or possibly what “hard” fonts were to hand in the operation’s typographical sets (ie sometimes technologically deterministic)).  Asterisks (***) were first employed to display hiatuses in the printer's copy-text, but, as rules and points came to be used for other forms of omission (such as censorship or citation), strings of asterisks became interchangeable with alternative forms of ellipsis marks.

Promotional poster for Ellipsis (2017).

The film's published synopsis was: “In the middle of a crowded city, the paths of two strangers, a man and a woman, collide.  This accidental, chance occurrence sets in motion a chain of events that sees the two strangers embark on a night of adventure and connection that challenges their separate lives.  Ellipsis is a film about the random nature of life and human interaction and the small choices that can set our course.  Set in Sydney over the course of one night, it is also a portrait of the city and its inhabitants.  The film celebrates the distinct nature and idiosyncrasies of the people that live and work there.”  As blubs go, that’s a bit long and something tighter would be: “A film for book club ladies who like to talk about their feelings.”  Tempted?  There's a trailer.

It wasn’t until late in the 1800s that clear distinctions of use emerged on the path to twentieth century standardization with the dash (or continuous rule) the most commonly used (signalling abrupt changes or breaks) while points implied something longer and more hesitant (the classic “pause”).  Points also became the preferred mark for indicating omissions from quotations with the asterisk assuming the primary role of marking footnotes (“*” for the first, “**” the second and so on although other distinctive symbols would also be used (the obelus (†) or dagger the best known of many) and for endnotes (appearing at the end of the chapter, sequential superscript numbers became the standard convention, an obvious innovation rendered essential as endnotes came to exist in dozens.  In some aspects, the “standardization” of English over the last century-odd has for some been regretful but in printing, the uniformity in typographic conventions has been welcomed by most.  While dictatorial edicts on matters of content rightly are resisted, the combination of increasingly pervasive style guides and standardized font-sets in word-processers (and the now apparently extinct variant, the “desktop publisher”) has been a positive influence, meaning texts almost always use the same “language of symbols”, removing one source of potential ambiguity.  This has meant most obviously (and helpfully): (1) hyphens now rarely make up a rule, (2) dashes are usually one em in length, (3) an ellipsis mark is comprised of three points (or four if a full-stop is added) and (4) the asterisks (that once often signified ellipses) now have a “substitutive rule” to indicate a word or phrase has been self-censored (usually to avoid use of a vulgarity although sometimes this is done in a way to make the original still obvious (“s**t” or “f**k”) while attempting to evade text-based electronic filters.  In the less standardized world of social media and such, variants are common (such as “f#$k”) and all these forms differ from redactions (solid black lines where the words or entire passages would appear), the intention genuinely to conceal identities or events.

Ellipses (in red ellipses) in the Google Chrome (left) and Microsoft Edge web browsers; in Chrome, a vertical ellipsis was used whereas in Edge they were the traditional horizontal form.

Technically, there was no difference in function, the “three dots” just shapes on the screen used by the GUI (graphical user interface) for similar purposes and why Google’s designers opted for one and Microsoft’s the other may just be an example of “product differentiation”, both browsers ultimately derived from the open-source Chromium project.  Microsoft’s original Edge was proprietary with a unique interface, the product necessitated by the company’s IE (Internet Explorer) becoming a victim of its own success, locked into a cul-de-sac of a development path because of the need to maintain backward compatibility with the large base of corporate users using software with a “high IE dependency”.  As things turned out, embarking on a separate development path was “a browser too far” (even with all Microsoft’s resources) and, once reality bit, the decision was taken to “jump on the Chromium bandwagon”.  Few mourned IE although nerds still pine for the download bucket.

Filmmakers like “Ellipsis” as a title.

In texts, the use of ellipses is common but compared with other “technical” words from the jargon of grammar, it’s not well known.  For that reason, some style guides suggest oral use is governed by one’s audience: If addressing a circle of scholars of English literature, one may be assured they’ll know the meaning but if the gathering less specialized, it’s permissible (indeed, probably desirable) to say “dot dot dot”; this is a “verbal clue” as opposed to the “visual clue” of “air quotes” one might use to indicate a word or phrase should be visualized as appearing within “quotation marks”.  When Henry Fowler (1858–1933) published his A Dictionary of Modern English Usage (1926), the use of the ellipsis (and other symbols used in texts) was still so inconsistent as to demand an untypically long and detailed entry, the technical details of which might mystify modern readers brought up on standardized conventions; genuinely there have been advantages in the way word processors and editors have imposed a kind of “structural homogenization”.

Even in 1965 when the second edition (with a textual revision by Sir Ernest Gowers (1880–1966)) appeared, Henry Fowler’s original entry substantially was left unchanged but by 1996 when there was a major update by Robert Burchfield (1923–2004), the entry radically was different, reflecting (1) the publishing industry having removed (almost all) inconsistencies and (2) readers being now less familiar with the kind of descriptive language Henry Fowler used because his expectation was of reaching an “educated audience”.  Many modern readers of a book like A Dictionary of Modern English Usage are of course in some ways “better educated” than previous generations but it’s a “different education” (not “inferior”, just “different”).  While in some aspects what Mr Burchfield did was by the purists, not well-received (“purity” probably not a helpful world-view when judging changes in the use of the English language) because he seemed all too accommodating of “lower standards”, his revision of the book’s entry for “Ellipsis” was helpful and common-sense, an indication of which was the same format being used by Jeremy Butterfield who edited the fourth edition (2015).  While the curmudgeons will continue to lament “linguistic promiscuity”, in some cases simplicity is better and anyway, some never forgave Burchfield for having “taken the lexicographical axe” to thousands of archaic words while an editor of the OED (Oxford English Dictionary).

A Lohanic ellipsis in action.  The operative part of the text: “It's waist-length, perfectly coiffed, and... blonde?” is read “…and [pause] blonde?”  As Ms Lohan points out, the distinction between “blonde” and “strawberry blonde” is significant because the latter happens at the margins of red.

So, in modern use, the working definition of ellipsis is accepted as the one appearing in the OED: “The omission of one or more words in a sentence, which would be needed to complete the grammatical construction or fully to express the sense.”  In spoken form, the ellipsis is so common as usually to pass unnoticed (such as: “Want some?” in which the pronoun has been dispensed with).  In other words, the ellipsis is an essential part of the “verbal shorthand” that comprises so much of conversational English, constructs created by a process in which certain notional elements of a sentence may be omitted if clearly they are predictable or recoverable by virtue of context.  Indeed, in “legitimate” use, English grammar really “demands” the omission of certain elements if sentences are to be thought “elegant”, the most obvious the injunction not the repeat the definite article: “He heard the whirr and ʌ click of machinery; (ie infinitive marker to not repeated before a second infinitive) or “I was forced to leave and ʌ give up my work at the hospital” (subject not repeated).  That doesn’t mean insertion of the missing elements is wholly proscribed because, if for dramatic effect some degree of emphasis is required, the repetition is an accepted device, but, but in everyday use or declarative or narrative prose, ellipsis is the “natural” form.  Those wishing to perform textual analysis of what’s been digitized will find many fields in literature littered with both ellipses and their deliberate avoidance.  Being English, in academic linguistics a remarkable number of variant forms have been identified and defined, the CGEL (A Comprehensive Grammar of the English Language (1985), edited by Professor Randolph Quirk (1920–2017) et al) needing more than 50 pages to list, illustrate, and label them all (strict, standard, situational, structural etc).  Of course the “rules” work because they interact with the human brain and, both being flexible, the “imaginary words” usually come quickly to mind.

The “rules” do however extend to defining “unacceptable types”, the most often cited being if two auxiliary verbs that operate in different ways are placed together.  So although it doesn’t seem obviously clumsy, one should not say or write: “No state has or can adopt such measures” because idiomatic tradition has come to require: “No state has adopted or can adopt such measures”.  Burchfield’s caution was: “When a change of grammatical voice is involved, ellipsis spells danger.  A reader cannot be expected to make the necessary adjustment from the active voice to the passive and supply an omitted part of the passive form.”  With that, old Henry Fowler would have concurred and even in the later editions one of his examples from 1926 was cited: “Mr Dennett foresees a bright future for Benin if our officials will manage matters conformably with its ‘customs’, as they ought to have been [insert managed]”. Comparisons can also produce unacceptable sequences when unwise ellipses are attempted: “The paintings of Monet are as good or better than those of van Gogh [read as good as or better than].  Perhaps less obviously wrong but best avoided is leaving out an auxiliary which is not the same number (singular/plural) as one that is given: “The murderer was hanged and his followers ʌ imprisoned [ellipsis of were].”  Of course, in non-standard speech the rules often are not followed and in literature are ignored for “conversational authenticity” a person in the US in 1973 affecting to be unaware of the Watergate scandal likely in certain circles to be admonished: “Watergate, man, where you been [insert have]?”  A sentence like that is also fun to play with by changing the emphasis on each word, each producing a subtle shift in effect.

The Oxford Handbook of Ellipsis (2018), edited by Jeroen van Craenenbroeck (b 1976) and Tanja Temmerman (b 1985).

That the concept of the ellipsis sounds simple and easily is illustrated by examples (“Sarah likes coffee and Jane, tea”) may leave some baffled the CGEL could fill 50-odd, densely packed pages on the topic but in modern structural linguistics, specialist scholars think that a mere bullet-point list.  For those wishing further to explore, there is The Oxford Handbook of Ellipsis (2018) and, running to an impressive 1148 pages and weighing in at 1.89 kg (4.16 lb), it’s a hefty tome, academically and physically.  Importantly, the work is not restricted to the way the ellipsis phenomena operates in English, a dozen-odd languages explored, examining, as the editors put it: “inter- & intralinguistic variation”.

Those wanting simply directions on “right & wrong” constructions are better off with a style guide but for word nerds of the le langage pour le langage school (language for language (best translated as “language focusing on itself”)) in the tradition of Russian literary theorist & linguist Roman Jakobson (1896–1982 and one of the most influential figures in structural linguistics), any deep dive into metalinguistics is tempting and somewhere in those 1148 pages must surely be “the last word on ellipsis”.  The Oxford Handbook of Ellipsis is divided into four parts: (1) the purpose of ellipsis and how it may be analysed when mapped to various theoretical frameworks, (2) an exploration of the utility of ellipsis as a diagnostic tool for other linguistic phenomena, (3) descriptions of the types of elliptical constructions found in natural language, such as “sluicing, gapping, and null complement anaphora” (students of jargon will not be disappointed by this work) and (4) case-studies in languages, including Russian, Hungarian, Dutch, Japanese, Persian and Finnish Sign Language.  The text is spread over 38 chapters, the tempting titles include Codeswitching, Sluicing and Its Subtypes, Predicate Ellipsis, Gapping and Stripping and Comparative Deletion.

Melon

Melon (pronounced mel-uhn)

(1) Any of various plants of two cucurbitaceous vines (the gourd family) including the watermelon, muskmelon etc.  Variations include Genus Cucumis (various musk melons, including honeydew, cantaloupes, and horned melon); Genus Citrullus (watermelons and others); Genus Benincasa (winter melon); Genus Momordica (a bitter melon).

(2) The fruit of any of these plants.

(3) A color ranging between a medium crimson and a deep pink, noted for the orange tinge.

(4) In zoology, the visible upper portion of the head of a surfacing whale or dolphin, including the beak, eyes, and blowhole (a mass of adipose tissue used to focus and modulate vocalizations).

(5) In the slang of (mostly North American) financial markets, an especially large additional dividend (often in the form of stock) distributed to stockholders (often as “cut a melon”).

(6) By extension, any windfall of money to be divided among specified beneficiaries.

(7) In slang, the breasts of the human female (almost always in the plural).  The alternative slang is "chest melons" and a woman generously endowed can be dubbed melonious.

(8) In slang, the head; the skull.  Those deemed vague or of limited intelligence dubbed "melon heads".

(9) In slang, a derogatory term for members of a green political party, or similar environmental groups (rare and mostly Australia & New Zealand).

1350–1400: From the Middle English meloun & melon (herbaceous, succulent trailing annual plant or its sweet, edible fruit), from the Old Portuguese (via the thirteenth century Old French melon) melon, from the Late Latin melonem & mēlōn- (stem of mēlō and a shortening of mēlopepō (the “gourd apple”, a large apple-shaped melon)), from the Ancient Greek μηλοπέπων (mēlopépōn) (large apple-shaped melon), the construct being μηλο (mêlo(n)) (apple) + πέπων (pépōn) (ripe), from πέπτω (péptō) (to ripen).  Confusingly for historians seeking to reconstruct the recipes of Antiquity the Latin melopeponem was a kind of pumpkin while the Greek mēlopepon (gourd-apple) was applied to several kinds of gourds bearing sweet fruit, the origin of that in the noun use of pépōn (ripe) distinguishing the fruit on the vine ready for harvest from those yet to ripen.  As a modifier, melon is appended as appropriate (based on color, shape, diet, environmental niche, habitat etc) including melon beetle, melon cactus, Melon rugose mosaic virus, melon thistle & melon-headed.  The best known is probably the watermelon, dating from the 1610s and so named for their high content of water-like juice; in French, the more pleasing term is melon d'eau.  Melonade is a (non-alcoholic) drink made from melons while the (definitely alcoholic) melontini is a martini cocktail made with melon.  The adjective melonic is unrelated to melons and is used in chemistry to mean "of or pertaining to a type of complex heterocyclic triazine related to melem".  Melem is the heptazine (a certain chemical compound) with three amino substituents.  Melon is a noun & adjective and melonious, melony, melonous & melonlike are adjectives; the noun plural is melons.

The Cold War won, in 1992, Richard Nixon (1913-1994; VPOTUS 1953-1961 and POTUS 1969-1974) returned to Moscow, a place more than once he’d visited as an adversary.  Visiting the markets, he bought a juicy melon.

Being prolific and undemanding to grow, melons were among the earliest plants domesticated and in Greek, “melon” was used in a generic way for many foreign fruits, a fate which would also befall "apple", thus the naming of the pineapple and in some Old English texts, cucumbers are referred to as eorþæppla (literally "earth-apples"), the deductive process that produced the French pomme de terre (potato (literally “earth-apple”)), the French pomme from the Latin pomum (apple; fruit).  Apple was from the Old English æppel (apple; any kind of fruit; fruit in general), from the from Proto-Germanic ap(a)laz (source also of the Old Saxon, Old Frisian & Dutch appel, the Old Norse eple, the Old High German apful & the German Apfel), from the primitive Indo-European ab(e)l- (apple), (source also of the Gaulish avallo (fruit), the Old Irish ubull, the Lithuanian obuolys, & the Old Church Slavonic jabloko (apple)) but etymologists caution the original sense of these and their relationship(s) to what is now understood as “an apple” is uncertain.  In Middle English, as late as the seventeenth century (even the earliest compliers of recipe books aren’t always explicit so some reverse-engineering based on supposition has been undertaken), it was a generic term for all fruit other than berries but including nuts (such as Old English fingeræppla (dates (literally "finger-apples) and the late fourteenth century Middle English appel of paradis (banana (literally apple of paradise)).

The twenty-first century judgment of Paris: Lindsay Lohan (b 1986, left), Britney Spears (b 1981, centre) & Paris Hilton (b 1981, right) reprise Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite, New York City, 29 November, 2006.  The car was a Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren Coupé (C199, 2003-2010) leased by Ms Hilton.  It was a paparazzi photo from this moment used in the infamous "Bimbo Summit" headline by Rupert Murdoch's (b 1931) New York Post. 

That generality of meaning saw “apple” named as the fruit with which the serpent tempted Eve in the Garden of Eden, leading to the downfall of man and creating the original sin with which we’ve all since been damned.  The Biblical apportionment of blame to Eve has been held by feminists to account for at least some of the oppression suffered by women for the last two millennia.  However, the “fruit of the forbidden tree” was unspecified in the original texts of the Book of Genesis and, despite the wishful thinking of a few, in Biblical scholarship there’s no support for the notion the fruit was even hinted at being an appel of paradis, however appropriate, given the context, a nice plump banana might seem.  Nor is the forbidden fruit explicitly mentioned in the Holy Quran but according to traditional Islamic commentaries, it was not an apple but wheat.  The Prophet may not have been concerned but in Greek mythology there was the μῆλον τῆς Ἔριδος (Golden Apple of Discord) in the story of the Judgment of Paris which the goddess Ἔρις (Eris) (Strife), tossed in the midst of the feast of the gods at the wedding of Peleus and Thetis as a prize of beauty, thus sparking a vanity-fueled dispute among Hera, Athena and Aphrodite; it was that squabble that triggered the Trojan War.  Eris was the goddess of chaos and discord who (perhaps unsurprisingly), having not received a wedding invitation, was miffed and inscribed kallisti (To the prettiest one) on her “wedding gift” handing it to Πάρις (Paris, AKA Ἀλέξανδρος (Aléxandros) (Alexander), the son of King Priam and Queen Hecuba of Troy) who was told to choose the goddess he found most beautiful.  Judging what turned out to be one of Antiquity's more significant beauty contests, Paris chose Aphrodite, offending Hera and Athena, the most famous consequence of their feud being the Trojan War.  Tragedy did thereafter stalk the marriage of Peleus and Thetis; of their seven sons, the only one to survive beyond infancy was Achilles.

Cookmaid with Still Life of Vegetables and Fruit (circa 1620-1625), oil on canvas by Sir Nathaniel Bacon (1585–1627).

Beginning probably in Holland in the early seventeenth century and apparently first painted by Pieter Aertsen (circa 1533-circa 1573) "cookmaid and market scenes" was a genre in painting combining representations of produce and kitchens with themes often borrowed from the New Testament.  Two other examples of Sir Nathaniel's works in this vein are known still to exist: (1) Cookmaid with Still Life of Game and (2) Cookmaid with Still Life of Birds, both featuring healthy young ladies and there is obviously some artistic license in Cookmaid with Still Life of Vegetables and Fruit given that although every piece of produce depicted was at the time grown somewhere in England, not all simultaneously would have been in season.  Sir Nathaniel's lengthy title was too much for many, clipped often to the punchier "Maid with Melons".  This slang use of "melons" (ie female breasts) is listed by many dictionaries as “vulgar” or “mildly vulgar” but does travel with the vague respectability of a classical origin: In Antiquity the plural of the Greek melon (μῆλα) (mela) was used for “a girl's breasts” and in that tradition, in her youth, Lady Helen Taylor (née Windsor; b 1964 and a great-granddaughter of George V (1865–1936; King of the United Kingdom & Emperor of India 1910-1936)) was nicknamed “melons”.  In the line of succession to the British throne, Lady Helen comes in at number 49. 

Juicy Melons, Euston Station, London.

The world record price for a pair of juicy melons was set in May 2026 when a two “premium crown melons”, grown on Japan's northern main island of Hokkaido, realized ¥5.8 million yen (US$36,500) at the season’s first auction in Sapporo, Hokkaido, Japan; the result beat the previous mark of ¥5 million, achieved in 2019.  Although doubtlessly succulent, the prized examples were purchased not only for their taste but also as a promotional device, the successful bidder a Kushiro-based fruit and vegetable wholesaler who sold them to a supermarket where they would be “placed on display”.  Large, juicy melons should of course be put "on display"; everybody knows that, 

A cantaloupe as one would appear in most of the world (left) and a rockmelon down under (right).

Globalization has to some extent standardized in the English language spellings and meanings once disparate, sometimes reversing the trend towards diversity noted as one of the linguistic effects of the British Empire, especially in India under the Raj where the British pillaged the local languages with only slightly less enthusiasm than they showed for gold, diamonds and such.  However, the names of food seem often resistant to change, presumably most often where forms are well-established and supplied by local production.  Thus what is in some places eggplant is elsewhere the aubergine.  It’s also a melon matter because in Australia, what most of the world knows as the cantaloupe (from the French cantaloup, from the Italian place name Cantalupo, a former Papal summer estate near Rome, where the melons were first grown after being introduced to Europe from the Middle East), is called the rockmelon (occasionally rock-melon) and the antipodean quirkiness is not unique, the cantaloupe in some places called “sweet melon” or “Crenshaw melon” while in South Africa where it’s not uncommon to see fruit-stalls side-by-side, one selling cantaloupes and the other spanspeks (from the Afrikaans Spaanse spek (literally “Spanish bacon”)).  The Australian use, once deconstructed, does make sense in that a cantaloupe does (vaguely) resemble (some) rocks and has a "hard skin" but the case seems not compelling, cantaloupe a much more attractive word.  Visiting foodies will be gratified Australians follow the rest of the world when it comes to the honeydew (or honey-dew) melon, the name from the late sixteenth century honeydew (sticky sweet substance found in small drops on trees and plants), a replication of the formations in the Dutch honigdaauw and the German Honigthau.  That melon was first named in 1916 when selective breeding produced a cross between the cantaloupe and a melon native to southern African.

Anthony Albanese, shaggate & melongate

Applied kinesics: Linguists and anthropologists call the use of hand gestures as an accompaniment to speech (much associated with Italians): “gesticulations”.  Mr Albanese gesticulates (left) and Nova’s promotional banner for Nikki Osborne’s “Bushie” persona on Bush Deep (right).

Politics is unpredictable but even in the long tradition of "storm in a tea cup" scandals, few would have expected melons to play a role although, delightfully, Anthony Albanese (b 1963; prime-minister of Australia since 2022) managed a "storm in a D-cup", "melongate" the result of the second of his gaffes while in July 2026 appearing on the Bush Deep podcast.  Interviewed by comedian Nikki Osborne (b 1981), he was asked to play the “shag, marry, date” game, three Australian females from pop culture (singer Kylie Minogue (b 1968), actor Nicole Kidman (b 1967) & singer Rhonda Burchmore (b 1960)) offered as his options.  He started well by mentioning he was “newly married” (to his second wife) but Ms Osborne was tenacious and after boxing him into admitting “Kylie, clearly”, managed to press him into saying (with a slight giggle): “all of the above” (that apparently in answer to: “You’d marry Kylie? And shag her? And date her?” rather than thoughts of intimacy (concurrent or otherwise), with all three nominees but Ms Osborne, seeming pleased, did conclude: "all right, a triple" so who knows?).  The public reaction wasn’t good (although muted compared with what would have been the outrage had the remarks been made by a conservative) and quickly his office issued a one-line statement: “I apologise unequivocally for the comments”.  Educated by the Congregation of Christian Brothers (a branch of the Roman Catholic Church), the Australian arm of which was dissolved after shifting the bulk of its assets to a related but legally separate entity to protect them from civil litigation brought by victims child sexual abuse by Christian Brothers, Mr Albanese (selectively) operates on the church's long-established principle of “confess and be forgiven”.  What he should have done was make the joke one of self-deprecation, telling his host a more interesting question would be to ask the trio if any of them would contemplate shagging him and all three were anyway “too good for him”.  His second wife, by now well-acquainted with politics, would have forgiven him.

Pampered crown melons in a Shizuoka hothouse.

It turned out to be an eventful podcast because he also told the tale of meeting Sanae Takaichi san (b 1961, Prime Minister of Japan since 2025) during her Australian visit in May 2026.  Knowing a comedian would likely be not interested in trade negotiations or maritime boundaries in the South China Sea, he instead described his surprise when presented with the gift of a pair of crown melons, a fruit grown only in the western region of Japan's Shizuoka Prefecture.  The nation’s most exalted and expensive melons, farmers tending the vines in climate-controlled greenhouses each season cut away all but the most obviously fecund bud so each plant’s energy & nutrients feed a single fruit, ensuring “perfect melons”.  Understandably, crown melons are a gift presented to someone as a mark of respect or appreciation, often in the intricately constructed packaging famously used in Japan for goods from sandwiches to stilettos.  Mr Albanese described the gift as “strange” but said he found them “quite good”.  While it's not reasonable to expect him to have been aware of the cultural significance in Japan of a fruit he’d have associated with the Aus$3.99 item familiar in Australian supermarkets, his office presumably was informed so it was bad staff work he wasn’t briefed on what to say.  An additional reason for the choice of gift was to mark the “delectably honey-sweet” melons now being exported (tariff-free) to Australia.

Pamela Anderson (mostly real) on the cover of Playboy magazine, November 1994.

Things got worse.  Ms Osborne likened the melons to Canadian-US actor Pamela Anderson (b 1967) which must have amused Mr Albanese because almost instinctively he raised his hands to his chest and, making a cupping gesture, observed: “She brought two… as you do”.  There was laughter in the recording studio and it would have been a good joke in the locker room of the South Sydney Rabbitohs (the NRL (National Rugby League) club the prime minister takes every opportunity to remind the country he supports) but as the clip went around the world, he’d have understood he’d put his foot in it… again.  Well into the twenty-first century, it might be assumed politicians would by now be adept in handling the “new media” (social media, podcasts and such) but, beyond a certain age, many remain uncertain and often make the worst mistake of all: trying very hard to be “authentic” which is, of course, recognized instantly as “inauthentic”.  Politicians have before had to attempt to master “changes in platforms”.  In the nineteenth century, it was the shift from speeches being made on the floors of parliaments to public meetings; early in the twentieth it was the advent of radio (a medium better mastered by George V (1865–1936; King of the United Kingdom & Emperor of India 1910-1936) than most of his ministers), then in the post-war world it was television.  Social media & podcasts are just the latest “shock of the new” and hopefully the ALP’s operatives will arrange additional training.  Still, something good did come from the interview: Ms Osborne learning the Japanese prime minister is female.  As the first woman ever to gain the office, there had in 2025 been extensive international coverage of her accession but presumably that was something crowded out of Ms Osborne's news-feeds by the algorithms selecting matters of greater interest such as Ariana Grande's (b 1993) weight or Kylie Jenner's (b 1997) new hairstyle.

Lord Voldemort, played in this scene by Ralph Fiennes (b 1962).

Making the “melons quip” was a bit hypocritical because it hadn’t long before that Mr Albanese had issued a schoolmasteresque rebuke to a member of his shadow cabinet (Tanya Plibersek b 1969), saying she’d made “a mistake” in likening the Liberal Party’s Peter Dutton (b 1970; leader of the Liberal Party of Australia 2022-2025) to the villainous Lord Voldemort in the film adaptations of the Harry Potter children’s books.  Had the comparison been one of their political philosophy or methods (something that might still be worth pursuing) it would have been OK but in saying “I think there will be a lot of children who have watched a lot of Harry Potter films who will be very frightened of what they are seeing on TV at night” it did seem she was commenting on some physical similarity.  Asked to clarify, she said: “I am saying he looks a bit like Voldemort.  We will see whether he can do what he promised he would do when he was last running for leader, which is smile more.”  Perhaps sensing danger, she added: “I am just saying he is not the warm and friendly face of the Liberal party and, if this last election taught us anything, it taught us that the Liberal party has moved too far to the extremes of politics.”  Before long, a statement was issued from Ms Plibersek’s office saying she had “reached out” to Mr Dutton “unreservedly” to apologize, adding she acknowledged the remark should not have been made.  Mr Albanese went further, saying: “It was a mistake.  It shouldn’t have been said, we all make mistakes from time to time.  What we need to do is to move on from them and it is how we respond to them.  Tanya Plibersek responded appropriately. Tanya Plibersek did the right thing by apologising.  We should not refer to people’s appearance.”

Mr Dutton at Mr Boswell’s funeral.

Mr Dutton called the comments “unfortunate” but said they were “water off a duck’s back” and there was no need for politicians to be “nasty and mean”, concluding the affair by saying “I’m not the prettiest bloke on the block but I hope that I’m going to be pretty effective.”  Students of political phraseology enjoyed that last remark, the original used by John Howard (b 1939; Prime Minister of Australia 1996-2007) as an election campaign hook for the not at all photogenic Queensland National Party’s Senator Ron Boswell (1940–2026; senator for Queensland 1983-2014): “He may not be pretty but he’s pretty effective”.  That worked well and, in retirement, Mr Boswell wrote his memoirs, published as Ron Boswell: Not Pretty, But Pretty Effective (2023).  As leader of the opposition, Mr Dutton’s effectiveness was limited, suffering the ignominy of losing his own seat in parliament at the 2025 general election in which the Liberal party suffered its worst defeat since formation in 1944.  During the campaign, Mr Dutton limited his media appearances mostly to Mr Murdoch’s Sky News (now re-branded News24) where he could be asked “helpful” questions by other right-wing fanatics, the exchanges enjoyed by the channel’s small audience of the already converted, the only sceptical faction of which complained Mr Dutton was “not conservative enough”.  Had he dabbled in the anarchic world(s) of the Tiktokers and podcasters things might have been worse still so his handlers were right to “draw the line somewhere”.

The photogenic TERF Katherine Deves (left) and that tweet (right).

Mr Albanese’s reaction to the brief “Plibersek-Voldemort-Dutton affair” must have been something of a special case.  Although there are some things he’s done his best to forget (hoping others will do the same), otherwise his memory is typically ALP-sharp and he certainly remembered the occasions when Ms Plibersek told people she rather than him would have won the ballot for the party leadership had she chosen to contest.  Had a close factional ally pointed out Mr Dutton’s resemblance to Lord Voldemort, Mr Albanese’s reaction might have been limited to a quite chat (over a beer and a laugh) rather than a public censuring.  Sadly, the one who seemed to receive no sympathy was Lord Voldemort who was slighted by being called, by implication, “Duttonesque”; surely he had as much right to be offended by the comparison.  Amusingly, even within the Liberal Party, there are those who have seen the resemblance and commented.  Lawyer Katherine Deves (b 1978) is a (self-described) TERF (trans-exclusionary radical feminist) with a cult-following in the party and on Twitter (now X) on 1 December, 2021, while watching the televised proceedings of parliament, she tweeted: “New speaker [presiding officer of the House of Representatives] …struggles to keep order as Albo [Mr Albanese, then leader of the opposition) …calls Voldemort [Mr Dutton, then minister of defence] …‘boof head’”  The tweet has since been deleted.

Harold Macmillan (1894–1986; UK prime-minister 1957-1963, left) being shown the Sinclair ZX Spectrum home computer by Sir Clive Sinclair (1940–2021, right), London, 1984.

Old Harold Macmillan had his problems with women (being bi-sexual, he may not have been wholly blameless for his wife’s infidelity) but was fortunate to be prime minister during the last days when journalists were still deferential towards politicians (at least until they smelled blood in the water).  Clearly, at least in his dealings with the press, he’d led a sheltered life because in his memoirs he compared the still polite English journalists to the breed he encountered in Australia during his Commonwealth tour (Jan-Feb 1958), noting they were as capable as the bowlers in the nation’s cricket team of “sending down a few fast deliveries”.  By the standards of 2026 the questions he received (and played mostly with a straight bat although there was the occasional square cut) would be thought “tame” and while it can’t be certain how the old Etonian would have handled TikTokers, podcasters and YouTubers, he’d doubtlessly have been appalled and thought them all vulgarians to be avoided.

Japanese Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi san: In what was obviously a misspent youth, she was a drummer in a heavy metal band and still sometimes "picks up the sticks".  A Deep Purple (a heavy metal band formed in 1968) fan-girl, she got to meet the band during their 2026 tour of Japan. 

Mr Albanese probably wishes he could avoid appearances on the “new media” but knows a significant chunk of those with a vote long ago tuned-out of the “old media” where he for decades honed to a high-level his skills of spin and obfuscation; his office also would prefer his appearances be restricted to “more easily managed” platforms but know they must play the cards dealt.  Those in his office take pride at being thought “political pros” but curiously, by August 2026 they appeared to have forgotten the wise adage from the Watergate affair (1972-1974) that claimed the scalp of Richard Nixon (1913-1994; VPOTUS 1953-1961 and POTUS 1969-1974) that in politics what’s lethal: “is not the crime, it's the cover-up”.  Just returned from holiday, Mr Albanese “furiously denied” making a crude joke about Sanae Takaichi san’s ‘melons’ in the anyway notorious ‘shag Kylie Minogue’ interview.  At this point, rather than digging deeper, it would have been a better tactic to apologize and hope for forgiveness but Mr Albanese learned his stuff in the “non-Trotskyite” wing of the ALP’s Socialist Left faction in which “never apologize” was less a mantra than a way of life.  In what was described as a “terse statement” a spokeswoman for Mr Albanese denied the comments were a joke about prime ministerial mammary glands, stating: “This assertion is wrong.”  Unfortunately, the "damn the torpedoes, full steam ahead!" approach is a tactic and not a strategy, the efficacy of "plausible deniability" depending not on the term's second element but the first. 

So the seeking of forgiveness option (if “workshopped”) must have been discarded, the office instead opting for attack, an approach perhaps ill-advised because the spokeswoman was responding to a opinion piece (published in Mr Murdoch’s national daily The Australian) by Tokyo’s former ambassador to Canberra, Shingo Yamagami san (Japanese ambassador to Australia 2020-2023) that criticized the comments as “insulting”, speculating even that they may have damaged Sanae Takaichi san’s reputation: “However light-hearted it was intended to be, the recent joke delivered by prime minister Anthony Albanese at the expense of Japanese prime minister Sanae Takaichi is how he might be remembered by Japanese who most value the friendship with Australia.  It is a time for toiling and not for crude jokes at another’s expense.  So, prime minister, please enjoy Japan’s sweet and juicy melons without thinking about a woman’s anatomy, and instead focus on what our two countries must do together.”  As a former Director-General of the Intelligence and Analysis Service of the MoFA (Ministry of Foreign Affairs), Shingo Yamagami san was well-informed and concluded his opinion piece by reminding Mr Albanese of the special cultural significance of the revered fruit: “A crown melon is the most prized fruit in Japan and treasured as something special. Moreover, this particular fruit was painstakingly nurtured under intensive care in a special greenhouse. A single melon costs more than 30,000 yen (Aus$270).”  Translation: “Albo has gained melons but has lost face.”

Exhibit One: Shaggate.

While readers of The Australian mostly years ago made up their minds and concluded Mr Albanese “is a dud”, the reason Mr Murdoch continues to print and distribute the paper (despite large losses) is the content widely is reported on other media platforms (old and new) and while the influence is somewhat diminished, what appears can, on occasions, still “set the day’s agenda”.  However, it’s unlikely Shingo Yamagami san’s piece was written in an attempt to change many minds in Australia and was likely intended for “internal consumption” in Japan.  It’s improbable many Japanese voters would think their prime minister’s reputation much “damaged” by a foreign leader’s social ineptitude but, for a number of reasons (some geo-political but mostly economic), Sanae Takaichi san’s popularity has retreated from the stellar heights she enjoyed after assuming the presidency of the LDP (Liberal Democratic Party) and leading it to a stunning landslide in the 2026 general election (House of Representatives (lower house)) so the thought is the MoFA may have co-opted Shingo Yamagami san as a stalking horse to “muddy the waters”, seeking to exploit the “melons incident” for a bit of “blame-shifting”.  Of course, in diplomatic circles, it was hardly a secret Shingo Yamagami san was "not a big fan" of the ALP government and he may have been “freelancing”; certainly there's been from Tokyo no suggestion an apology has been sought or is expected and observers suspect  “melongate” will prove a “nine day wonder” that vanishes once Mr Murdoch's journalists conclude the story is "going nowhere" and will likely end up remembered as a “storm in a D-Cup”.

Exhibit Two: Melongate.

One who seemed gleefully to relish the opportunity to defend Mr Albanese against accusations of having violated his own instruction to her (“We should not refer to people’s appearance”) was Tanya Plibersek (an unlikely but energetic Sancho Panzo to Mr Albanese’s Don Quixote) who appeared on morning TV with Barnaby Joyce (b 1967; thrice (between local difficulties) deputy prime minister of Australia 2016-2022 and now a convert from the National Party to One Nation), the latter not previously noted for his feminist credentials.  Echoing her leader’s thoughts on the matter, Ms Plibersek said she thought the former ambassador was “…100 per cent wrong, and we have an excellent relationship with Japan.  I think the former ambassador is wrong in his interpretation.”  Now cast in the improbable role of the One Nation Party’s sole intellectual (he's a qualified accountant), Mr Joyce disagreed, saying it was “a really dangerous thing to say”, twisting the blade a little deeper by expressing some faux sympathy for his fellow panellist being bowled up to defend the indefensible: “I know you’re doing the best job you can on this, Tanya, but it’s just like the Kylie Minogue comment – completely wrong, completely trying to be clever. It wasn’t clever.  It just demeans the office of prime minister, and it certainly has created a massive problem with one of our major partners. I know in your heart, Tanya, you know it’s wrong.  Okay? And if you came out now and said, “Yeah, that was a stupid thing to say. You should have apologised for it. People say: ‘Tanya, it’s telling the truth.’”

Lay theologian Mr Joyce conjuring (with no apparent hint of irony) an impromptu encyclical on “truthfulness” was one of the more amusing episodes in the “melon incident”.  Undeterred by that surreal moment, Ms Plibersek maintained focus and insisted it was a “complete misinterpretation by the former ambassador”, unwisely adding: “People watching it for themselves can make their own minds up.”  Not one to miss a “full toss”, Mr Joyce responded: “They do, they do watch it, and they have made up their own mind.  And it is inappropriate.”  In cricketing terms, the English would have called that “being bowled a pie” (ie an “easy hit”) but anyway, Harold Macmillan politely would have applauded Mr Joyce's riposte through the slips to the third man boundary.