Prime Ministerial Notice
OFFICE OF THE PRIME MINISTER
COMMONWEALTH OF AUSTRALIA
Subject: Standards for the Use of Humour in Public and Digital Discourse
This notice is issued to clarify expectations regarding the appropriate use of humour.
- Jokes may be made, provided they do not cause unnecessary offence to persons holding positions of authority.
- Satire is permitted and will remain subject to ongoing review.
- Sarcasm should be used sparingly and only where intent is unlikely to be misunderstood.
- Taking the piss is not prohibited; however, it should be exercised with extreme caution.
- Self-directed humour is encouraged.
- Humour directed toward political leaders may be subject to legislative consideration, regulatory oversight, or other appropriate action.
Members of the public are expected to familiarise themselves with this guidance and adjust their conduct accordingly.
Further direction may be issued as required.
The Bikini Is Not the Story
The recent controversy surrounding images of the Labor Prime Minister, Anthony Albanese, in a bikini has been framed as a problem of taste or decency. It isn’t. The image itself is incidental. What matters is the response to it.
The reaction tells us far more than the image ever could.
Why Platform Bans Feel Un-Australian
Banning a social media platform or choking speech because it embarrasses those in power is profoundly un-Australian. This country wasn’t built on bowing to authority, waiting for permission to speak, or pretending everyone agrees. Australians argue. We question. We take the piss. We have always understood that free speech does not mean politeness. It means being able to say what others would rather you didn’t.
So when ridicule is met with platform bans, legislative pressure, or moral panic, it is not just speech that is being targeted. It is culture. An attack on humour is an attack on the larrikin itself. The instinct that refuses to treat leaders as sacred and insists they earn respect the hard way.
Which raises a legitimate question, without accusation and without hysteria. Are we still operating as a constitutional Commonwealth that tolerates dissent, ridicule, and disagreement? Or are we drifting toward something else, even a socialist republic or dictatorship, where embarrassment of authority is treated as a threat rather than a fact of public life?
Mockery as a Cultural Signal
When the public starts mocking its leaders, it is rarely because a joke has gone too far. It is because people believe the politicians are taking the piss. Mockery shows up when trust is gone and patience has well and truly run out.
Images do not create that feeling.
They simply give it a face.
And when the first response from power is to shut the laughter down instead of asking why people are laughing, the joke becomes serious.
Humour is powerful because it says what people are already muttering at the pub, the barbecue, and the kitchen table.
We’ve Seen This Before
Long before memes and social media, political satire was a staple of mainstream Australian life. It aired on prime-time television. It was unapologetic, irreverent, and widely understood. Politicians who may have been offended wore the criticism. They did not ban televisions.
Figures like Paul Hogan built careers on larrikin humour, with no concern for political correctness. Characters such as Arthur Dunger were deliberately exaggerated, deliberately awkward, and deliberately ridiculous. That was the point. The humour worked because Australians understood parody and trusted themselves to get the joke.
Even Strop, with his exaggerated and unmistakably non-PC speech, appeared regularly on national television. Audiences were not confused. They understood character, exaggeration, and intent. The joke was not difference itself. It was familiarity, rough edges, and the refusal to sanitise humour for comfort.
Back then, if you didn’t like it, you turned it off. You walked away. You told them to get stuffed. No regulators rushed in. No emergency powers were invoked. No one claimed democracy was under threat.
Satire did not weaken Australia. It strengthened it. It reminded leaders that authority here has always come with scrutiny, mockery, and the expectation of humility.
The difference now is not the humour.
It is the tolerance for it.
How to Speak Australians
In my humble opinion, the ABC series How to Speak Australians shows Australian humour at its best. It captures our ability to take the piss out of ourselves, not as cruelty, but as perspective. The humour is not about tearing others down. It is about staying grounded, deflating ego, and remembering not to take ourselves too seriously.
Sticks, Stones, and Resilience
Australians were raised on a simple idea: sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me. That line was never about denying pain. It was about refusing to surrender inner ground.
That attitude once extended beyond the playground and into public life. Politicians were expected to cop it. Awkwardness, verbal tics, mistakes, and imperfections were part of being human, and satire absorbed them rather than quarantined them. The public understood the difference between mockery and malice.
Somewhere along the way, that lesson was inverted. Jokes and humour are now framed as offence. Embarrassment has been reframed as harm. Humour has become something the state feels obliged to manage on behalf of adults. First teenagers were removed from social media in the name of protection. Now the platforms themselves are being targeted.
That shift is not trivial.
Resilience has been replaced with protection. Perspective has given way to sensitivity. The cultural muscle that once allowed Australians to laugh at themselves has quietly weakened.
And that matters. Because a society that cannot tolerate mockery will eventually stop tolerating dissent.
The Court Jester
Historically, the court jester was not there for entertainment alone. They served a function. The jester was often the only person permitted to speak uncomfortable truths directly to power, precisely because those truths were wrapped in humour.
Laughter made honesty survivable.
The jester did not overthrow kings. They kept them from losing perspective. By being mocked, rulers were reminded they were human. Fallible. Capable of error.
That role has not disappeared. It has simply changed form. Today, humour and satire perform the same task. They test ego. They expose pretence. They offer feedback without formal confrontation.
The court jester was never a threat to authority.
They were a mirror.
And when mirrors are banned, it is rarely because they lie.
Australia’s Court Jesters – Styles and Roles
- John Safran
Provocative documentary satire – walks directly into taboo and lets discomfort expose power. - The Juice Media
Absurdist political satire – exaggerates official messaging until the truth becomes unavoidable. - Punters Politics
Pub-test humour – says plainly what people are already thinking, without polish or deference. - The Snark Tank
Digital snark satire – channels public frustration through ridicule rather than rage. - Mad as Hell
Deadpan bureaucratic satire – mirrors political language and lets its absurdity collapse. - The Chaser
Confrontational stunt satire – embarrasses institutions by taking them at their word. - Friendlyjordies
Aggressive larrikin satire – uses humour and outrage to challenge media and political protection. - Betoota Advocate
Satirical news mirror – reflects political reality so closely the joke is almost redundant.
A Personal Take
There is a simple lesson running through all of this.
If you cannot handle being laughed at, even lightly, life gets harder than it needs to be. Every comment feels like a threat. Every joke feels personal. You end up defending your image instead of living your life.
Most Australians were taught something different. You cop it, shrug it off, and keep moving. Not because words do not sting, but because you do not hand your sense of self to every passing opinion.
That is resilience. The ability to stay steady when something lands awkwardly. To feel the sting without collapsing. To keep perspective when your ego takes a knock.
When resilience is missing, defence becomes the default. Every comment is treated like an attack. Every joke becomes a provocation. Defence leads to escalation. Defence is war.
Resilience works the other way. It creates space. It allows agreement with reality, even when you do not like it. Agreement lowers tension. Agreement restores balance. Agreement is peace.
That is why humour matters. It tests resilience. If you can laugh at yourself, you do not need to control others. And when you do not need to control others, both people and cultures stay upright.
An Invitation
If this piece resonates, it may be because it points to something personal as much as political.
The Inner Compass work is about developing exactly the kind of resilience discussed here. Learning to stay centred when challenged. Holding perspective when discomfort arises. Remaining grounded without needing to control others or shut the world down.
This is not about fixing yourself. It is about strengthening your inner orientation so that humour, disagreement, and difference no longer feel destabilising.
If you are interested in exploring that work, you are welcome to learn more through Inner Compass sessions.
Sometimes the most meaningful work is not changing the world, but becoming steadier within it.
By Dawn Kelly, Founder of the Inner Compass – Guiding you to align with the highest expression of your true self.
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