Schapelle Corby? Nail Art Nails It.
“What do you think of Schapelle Corby?”
My question was met with customary silence. Deb’s been doing my nails for three years now, so I’m familiar with the pattern from my regular one-woman focus group.
A moment to think it through, a gruff one-sentence response, and then an eloquent and startlingly honest diatribe that cuts through all accompanying nonsense surrounding the issue. Like someone starting up a chain saw. One pull of the rip cord to kick it over, and then she’s away, slicing through the crap.
Debra is kind, generous and loving with a wicked sense of humour. She’s also Romanian, and while she’s been here for 30 years, her accent makes everything she says seem a touch sharpened. Think Bond girl. Eastern European sexy, but ever so slightly terrifying.
“I don’t give a shit about Schapelle Corby.”
Yep, there it is. If this was a spy movie, Schapelle could be fed to the pigs by now.
Silence over the painting of a pinky, as I await Deb’s verdict.
“I don’t know if she did it or didn’t do it, I don’t care, 9 years is a long time and so she’s paid for whatever, but it’s bullshit that she can give one interview and get paid more than I will ever earn in a lifetime, for what, a story that who knows what we can believe.”
Once again, Deb sunk it right in the corner pocket.
There’s no doubt Corby has been a fascinating figure for many Australians since her arrest and conviction all those years ago. I vividly remember rushing home from work on 27 May 2005 to watch her sentencing live on television.
I cried as she collapsed in the court room and her family became hysterical behind her. It was like I was watching a movie, except it was a 28 yr old woman’s life.
Nine years later, I couldn’t say I care as much, and I think most of the nation’s interest has waned to at least indifference, for many total disdain.
The debate over her guilt has been re-ignited, as have the urban myths that surround that boogie bag and whatever connections her colourful family have to it.
There’s been vague empathy for the prime years she’s missed, accompanied by plenty of heartless internet humour.
But mostly the news has been about an out of control, frenzied media, who are feeding off their own hysteria. It’s difficult to swallow the dripping compassion in a journalists voice as he speaks of poor Schapelle’s harassment from the media circus, when that news services cameras are front and centre of the mosh pit.
As Channel 7 execs high five each other for landing one of the most sought after interviews in Australian television history, they also reap the benefit of the publicity from their own David Koch criticising them for the $2 million dollar cheque they’re handing over for the privilege. Such is the labyrinthine byways of media influence.
But as my nails chick Deb and Kochie both reflect upon that $2 million, I wonder, do we value the right people and stories?
Sure, I’ll probably watch the Corby interview, but not with any expectation of a definitive answer as to what went on that fateful day. Mainly, I’d like to see what her eyebrows are doing these days – has she maintained the pencil thin, or have they thickened out a little?
But $2 million bucks??? How is her story worth that? Is it even possible there are enough viewers in this country to justify the cost? Or did the bidding war come down to a very expensive pissing contest?
I’m no network programmer, so I don’t pretend to understand decisions and deals such as these. But I do know there are people I’d much prefer to see pocketing that sort of cash.
People like Sam Johnson who has spent the last year literally putting his body (and more specifically his gonads) on the line riding around Australia on a UNICYCLE, raising money for Breast Cancer Research. I know I’m being naïve, but I really do wish that was the world we lived in.
Instead, I’ll brace myself for the barrage of Schapelle interview promos, with their extreme close-ups and accompanying dramatic droning music, wishing that it was my nails chick Deb doing the interview.
“So did you do it or not, and don’t bullshit me.” That’s an interview I’d watch.