Tragically in this electronic age this repeated image becomes fact to many city dwellers and it’s time these journalists pulled their heads in.

While we appear to have survived the ‘you're a Bogan’ era, divisive stories and cartoon images continue to reinforce this city/country mentality at the cost of the country, particularly in esteem terms.

Blokes in overalls with broad-brimmed hats.

What a lot of tommyrot.

The latest rubbish to pop up in the past few days was a report in the Telegraph on Young that described it several times as a  ‘sleepy town’. Of course, what else? All our towns are sleepy. Like, Orange, Bathurst, Dubbo…

It’s a wonder we live in houses, have electricity and drive cars.

A second report on Young in the following day’s newspaper began: “A kangaroo and an emu laze around in the tranquil morning sun over the back fence. There’s a verandah out the front, a sheep or two down the road…”

Have you ever read such piffle?

Is that why we have bullbars on our cars? To protect us from rampaging kangaroos in the main street? Or a few sheep grazing on front lawns?

The cartoonists are no better.

We bushies are always depicted under a swarm of flies wearing a hat with corks tied to the brim and sucking on a piece of hay, crows flying overhead and snakes keeping a watchful eye.

Dad and Dave and Mum and Mabel probably added to the image and it’s certainly stuck with the city slickers.

It’s time to cool it.

IT looks like the government is going to introduce a compulsory popular vote for the mayor at the next council elections, something Orange people were going to do anyway.

The government seems to think the people know best when it comes to electing a mayor but doesn’t it open up the race for all sorts of candidates.

There’s your friendly plumber who has always given you good prompt service when you’ve needed him to fix a dripping tap. And he can tell a few good jokes.

And what about your hairdresser? She’s a fountain of knowledge when it comes to talking about everything and everyone while you’re having a cut or a colour put in your hair. That’s popular qualities for a mayor.

Of course highway patrol police are out because they’re far from being popular handing out blueys to erring drivers.

But your kid’s cricket coach is another option. He gets on well with everybody, is always smiling and has won a couple of premierships to boot. He’d make a popular mayor, wouldn’t he?

So it’s endless.

If candidates for the prestigious job have the necessary qualifications of being able to kiss a few babies, open a couple of flower shows and shout a few beers at the pub now and then, what more could you ask for?

DAYLIGHT saving began this week and everyone turned their clocks forward an hour. Or at least they should have.

Everyone except Australia Post whose Orange post office clock is still jammed on five past 11, just like it’s been for more than 18 months.

One of Orange’s little mysteries, the hands have been stuck all that time but if you happen to be nearby on the hour, you’ll hear the clock strike but the hands never move.

You would think with daylight saving, staff would have noticed the clock needed someone to climb in the back with some spanners or super glue and see whether they could fix it.

At least passersby can see the correct time twice a day, in the morning at 11.05 and at night at 11.05.

AN Aussie, a Frenchman, a Spaniard and a German are walking down the street together.

A juggler is busking but there’s so many people that the four men can’t see him.

So the juggler climbs on to a platform and asks: “Can you see me now?”        

The four men answer: “Yes.” “Oui.”  “Si.” “Ja.”

A BLOKE named Thomas Austin back in October 1859 released 24 wild rabbits on his Geelong property so he could do some hunting and, as they say, the rest is history.

The bloody things spread like, well, rabbits.

South Sydney District Rugby League Football Club was formed at a public meeting held at Redfern Town Hall on January 17, 1908, and later in the Depression its players took advantage of the rabbits by catching and selling them.

They called out ‘rabbitoh’ as they walked the neighbourhood trying to cash in with door-to-door sales.

Their football opponents weren’t too impressed when the South Sydney players wore their same blood-stained jumpers for games and called them ‘rabbitohs’ as an insult.

This only strengthened their resolve. Not only did they officially adopt Rabbitohs as their name but went on to win a record 20 first grade premierships, adding another last weekend in a brilliant emotional win after so much pain in a long 43-year drought.

It was enough to make you cry for joy.

In fact I did.

Glory Glory.