For seasoned consumers of Australian media, watching what are surely the last chapters of Fairfax as we know it be written is a bit like the last days of the Soviet Union. There are occasional reports of purges, but instead of looking at who’s standing where to watch the May Day parade, we are left to contemplate the number of sub-editing errors and the ratio of real news to celebrity gossip for a clue as to what is going on behind the scenes.

A few days before the recent Fairfax strike and it is clear something is up. A couple of regular columnists are let go (though not Paul Sheehan, whose name I imagine is now used instead of Hitler’s whenever carnivorous inner-city dwellers are losing an argument about ethical eating: ‘Oh yeah, well Paul Sheehan is a vegetarian!’). Sloppy references to the ‘Noble Prize’ increase in frequency. And the level of clickbait (‘Identical twins who share a boyfriend vow to fall pregnant at the same time!’) descends to the point where even in the Mamamia offices they must be shaking their heads, not believing what might happen next. Answering the big questions, the Sydney Morning Herald’s website links to a story asking, ‘Are you lathering your hair the correct way?’

The morning after Fairfax journos down tools, I am all at sea. I am suddenly unsure if I’m shampooing my hair correctly or which ten kitchen gadgets I can’t live without. There is a hole in my heart that can only be filled by knowing which reality TV star shut down racism in one epic tweet and which Hollywood celeb’s dress is ‘everything’. I know I should be angry at Tony Abbott and feel ashamed to be Australian but I cannot put my finger on why. Nevertheless, I resolve to soldier on.

The second full day of the strike brings even more questions. If Waleed Aly ‘destroys’ Donald Trump in an epic segment on The Project, or a suburban mother’s ‘open letter’ to a café owner who was rude to her toddler goes viral, but there is no Sydney Morning Herald nor the Age to tell us about it, did it really happen?

As the morning rolls on it is clear I am not the only one puzzled as to why Fairfax is in such trouble. Wendy Harmer opens the floor to callers on her morning ABC radio program; someone avers that Fairfax’s properties have become ‘really left-wing’ and don’t give him the straight news reporting he wants. The host mutters a perfunctory ‘hmmmm… OK…’ and moves on to the next caller, hoping that somewhere, someone might have an answer to this great mystery.

At least the strikers are having fun. One Fairfax journo tweets a picture of the Negronis and cheese they are enjoying while off work. Then, remembering that her paper does a rich business in stoking career-destroying ‘Twitterstorms’, quietly disappears the thought.

On Saturday, across both Sydney and Melbourne, hundreds of millions of dollars’ worth of properties go to auction. And somewhere in each city a derelict shotgun semi with an outdoor toilet sells for the street value of a major drug bust, winning the streets around the house the ‘hot undiscovered suburb’ honour celebrated each week in the Sunday Fairfax tabloids. Yet with the strike on, how are those in the know supposed to find this outer-inner-city El Dorado of undiscovered hipsters and unrealised capital gains? Even more disconcerting is the thought that the next day might not bring the reliable Monday morning Nemesis story (in which a rent-a-quote economist issues a ‘dire warning’ about the Australian property ‘bubble’ about to burst) to balance the weekend’s Hubris like a Roman Caesar’s bodyman whispering in readers’ ears, ‘remember, you are a man’.

Sunday afternoon I peek at the Herald’s website (and I’m startled no clever IT staffer has set an autoplay chant of ‘Scab! Scab! Scab!’ to go off whenever one logs on) and note that Jane Caro has broken through the pickets to call for a bit of re-education for Australia’s newest senator, James Paterson, who is apparently not grateful enough for his public education. In a simultaneous display of ageism and inaccuracy, she also complains about his being ‘our youngest-ever’ senator, conveniently forgetting about Sarah Hanson-Young, who entered the chamber at just 25.

By Sunday afternoon it’s pretty clear that those staffers left putting the paper together, even if they haven’t filed copy for years, or ever, are hitting their straps and having a bit of fun. Three cheers to the anonymous scribe who wrote this opening sentence about yet another cruise ship struck by some Andromeda Strain-level gastro outbreak:

It was supposed to be a royal luxury experience, a two-week escape to the South Pacific, but for hundreds of passengers on board the Golden Princess it has involved far too much time on the throne.

One could take five years’ worth of progressive groupthink seminars in the UTS Journalism faculty and never come up with such a punchy lede.

All things must pass and so it is with the Fairfax strike. And despite the silliness of much of the product one doesn’t relish the thought of 120 journalists (or ‘full-time equivalents’, as they are called in the bloodless language of HR departments and corporate consultancy) losing their jobs. Perhaps the time off has given everyone involved a chance to reflect on the nature of news and what the customer wants. Come Monday morning, staffers are back at their desk. News of the possible double- dissolution election breaks and gets top billing on the Herald website, but those who find all that political stuff too hard are able to scroll down a bit to read an inspiring story of a woman who turned a simple idea into a $5 million business.