To Darwin, for the wedding of dear friends. An idle morning in that gem of a city provided me with the NT News — what a discovery! After the arrest of bikies (in the fabulously named Humpty Doo) for the possession of explosives, guns and drugs, the News felt obliged to put to the NT police that some claim it to be a couple of rotten eggs tainting all bikies unfairly. The News tells us that Superintendant Schiller responded to this ‘whining’ thus: ‘Most of the carton is rotten and we should kill the chook as well.’

I was living in Queensland in 2001, studying under the brilliant Professor-turned-Senator Russell Trood, when John Howard pulled off a brave and unlikely federal election victory to retain office. He did so with a platform driven in part by a bold, reactive stance to the Tampa and related illegal boat immigration (just as in the UK, most of those seeking asylum here do so by coming to Australia via at least one safe nation on the way — meaning that they’re not really seeking ‘asylum’ in any true sense, but rather are illegal immigrants).

I’m a supporter of civilised nations like ours doing our bit and taking genuine asylum seekers; the quid pro quo of that is that those merely seeking to emigrate must do so in a lawful way. Little changes; now, the latest boat stopping goings-on with the Abbott government unsurprisingly demonstrate that a firm line on illegal immigration is not only right, but also wildly popular. Something from which we Conservatives in the UK might fruitfully learn, I think.

Whilst in Darwin (in fact, whilst enjoying the stunning waterfalls of Litchfield National Park), the news comes from London that Andy Coulson, former director of communications for the Prime Minister, has been convicted on multiple phone-hacking charges — this, in the same week that the Prime Minister’s (completely correct) attempt to stop arch-federalist Jean-Claude Juncker from becoming President of the European Commission has failed. At the end of this disastrous week, the Conservative party’s polling standing has gone… up, and Labour’s has gone down. If Labour’s current campaigning performance were a person, he or she would be Googling for Dr Nitschke’s phone number.

Which will ring a bell for any UK sports fan. A typical summer has thus far seen England ignominiously booted from the World Cup and Andy Murray crash out of Wimbledon in the quarter-finals (or, as we like to call them, the Tim Henman elimination round). As a Queensland fan, I can’t even take comfort in State of Origin this year.

Seeking to throw off this gloom, whilst in the beautiful Southern Highlands visiting my in-laws I paid homage this week to The Don at the Bradman Museum in Bowral, and saw his childhood homes. What is it about Bradman that so inspires cricket tragics on both sides of the globe? Unprecedented skill is the obvious answer, but perhaps it’s decency, or sportsmanship, or grit; our ongoing admiration for him is just one more sign of our great shared traditions and heritage.

We broke our journey on the way here with a week in Indonesia (‘we’ being my wife and I — like all sensible fellows, I married an Australian). Bali’s Hindu tradition contrasted interestingly with Lombok’s Muslim culture; in the latter, a new five-star ‘dry’ resort caters to the holiday desires of cashed-up Islamic visitors. A sign of things to come, perhaps.

But not for your intrepid correspondent, of course. I have always loved wine. My parents followed the French tradition, making my brother and I taste from the time we were knee-high to a baguette. I’m proud to say that I once met the late, great Dr Bailey Carrodus of Yarra Yering. I long thought that his superb drop couldn’t be bettered. But this year’s Decanter World Wine Awards landed whilst we were in sunny Senggigi and South Africa pasted everyone else, Aussies included — reds, whites, sweets; you name it, the Saffers swept up (especially Jordan and their world-conquering chardonnay, although I confess that Gary and Kathy Jordan are friends of mine — and with wines like these, you can bet that they’re going to stay friends, too). Point is, as Paul Revere didn’t say — wake up, the South Africans are coming…

We will wrap up our stay with a suitably scientific test of the revised New South Wales alcohol licensing laws with Sydney cronies, and I shall head home to be after dinner speaker at the Freedom Dinner, organised by that most estimable of organisations, Forest, the pro-smokers’ campaign. I am an unrepentant cigar smoker — why should I repent? It’s no sin, and I enjoy it (viva Joe Hockey).

So it was with some sadness that, arriving in Victoria in 2007 to work for the Liberal party on that year’s federal election campaign, I found that that fine state had introduced a ban on smoking in public places on the very same day that we inflicted it in the UK — a magnificently timed demonstration of our shared illiberalism.

Now, with plain packaging, Australia has managed temporarily to pull ahead of old England in the nannying stakes — no mean feat, more’s the pity.