A Parthian shot indeed. The slings and arrows of an over-educated Mexican trouble not the scions of the mighty Rum Corps. Whereas he can only martial cold, dead facts, we have many, more universal, themes at our disposal, and we will decide who expounds them, and the manner in which they are expounded, as is clearly the sovereign right of the world class.

First cab off the rank: for all its pretence to culture and civilisation, where is Melbourne's riposte to the Opera House? It's been forty years now and... what's that? Federation Square? Clearly this reflects the lack of vigour in the southern reactives, who are too busy getting Tanya'd to pay attention to the main game, which is most certainly not the AFL.

This ceaseless amassment of inconsequential ephemeral verities rings hollow in the face of realcity rhetoric. As always, it comes down to who has the bomb, and that would be us. An ex-honcho of the Sydney tertiary circuit had a grand vision of a nuclear Australia (where we would be able to identify the "real" Australians by their friendly glow, dang those pesky newcomers), and while his vision is yet to be fully realised - blame it on the soft-right Sussex St machine, they know not what they ought - it is a vision that could only be concocted in this world-class city. The pup at Lucas Heights surely has the capacity to produce enough fissile material to be consequential, whatever piddling medical applications it is wasted on currently. Again, Sydney demonstrates its greatness by taking one for the team, half of whom are off-side and passing the ball forwards while sporting the biggest wedgies in history.

A claim that Toorak even rates as a suburb shows how deeply disturbed our Southern friend is. Far it is from the rolling green hills of Kirribilli and Admirality Houses, from which Janette benignly surveys all that is good in our grand country. Those who are far from her gaze cannot comprehend the feelings of warmth and predation that a 1950s housewife can radiate, and the overwhelming desire of the populace for them. Truly she sends a stronger signal than the nearby SBS transmitter, and the best the ladies of Melbourne can do is... get Costello to squeak on their behalf.

The wise and strong base commander in Dr Strangelove was right to be worried about his precious bodily fluids, and it was for similar reasons that Sydney removed the blight of efficient public transport from its streets. That Melbourne retains its trams bespeaks of a primitive socialist instinct in the people, a lack of will to be real individuals and simply drive everywhere. Until Melbourne has world-class traffic jams it is quite obviously not world-class.

As for all this flummery in the gutter press: the Mardi Gras is ample evidence that Sydney not only provides a world class gay experience, it is indeed world leading. No other part of the country even comes close. All that other noise merely provoke "whos?" and "whats?" from the people with enough brains to know where to live.