A wealthy, white, male, middle-aged American Christian takes his wife on holiday to Australia. Hiking through the Tasmanian wilderness one day they disturb a dozing tiger snake. ‘That’s a worry,’ says the husband. But before the snake can strike an eagle snatches it off the path. A few days later, driving through country Victoria, a large funnel-web appears suddenly on the dashboard of their hire car. ‘That’s a worry,’ says the husband. But as the angry arachnid scampers towards him a freak gust of wind blows it out of the window. A few days later, swimming off a beach in New South Wales, they notice several dark fins carving the surf around them. ‘That’s a worry,’ says the husband, but luckily, the fins turn out to be attached to a pod of friendly dolphins. On the last day of their tour, in a Far North Queensland rainforest, the observation deck on which they’re standing collapses, and they fall into a pool teeming with crocodiles. ‘That’s a worry,’ says the husband. But unbeknownst to him, the salties in this particular pool have recently feasted on a capsized boatful of even whiter, even wealthier, middle-aged American Christians, and aren’t even peckish. The following morning the couple check in at Cairns airport, thank the Lord for taking such good care of them on their antipodean adventure, and fly home to Florida. A few days later the husband walks into his backyard and is kicked to death by a large bird with a blue neck. ‘That’s a cassowary,’ says the wife.

Too soon? Maybe. But given that middle-aged white male Christians are now the only demographic whose misfortunes it’s okay to laugh about I think I might get away with it – especially as this one was also a resident of a Trump state. Indeed, since giving middle-aged white male Christians a hard time is now a contractual obligation for many Australian journalists, it may increase my chances of a Walkley. But you have to be sensitive to all your audience, so I do apologise to any American middle-aged white male Christian Speccie readers I might have offended.

Australians were offending foreigners with their humour long before we became players in the international illegal wildlife trade, of course. And no Australian has done so with greater success than Barry Humphries. But this hasn’t stopped the Aussie comic currently wowing New York audiences describing Moonee Pond’s most famous son as an ‘inhumane dick biscuit’, and it hasn’t stopped the Melbourne Comedy Festival taking his name off their top gong. While some may be mystified by Hannah Gadsby’s homage, the MCF’s decision won’t surprise anyone who’s seen one of Humphries stage shows – and more specifically, his brilliant Les Patterson act. Much of the press coverage of Humphries’ fall from grace sheets it to his description of transgenderism as ‘a fashion’. But you don’t have to watch much of Sir Les’s YouTube archive to see material his detractors could draw on to de-platform him from future fun fests. My favourite clip is his appearance on a 1985 Parkinson show, where, as well as giving his famous ‘large encumbrance’ full play in the baggy nylon suit, he refers to sexual and ethnic minorities by names which would kill the career of any modern stand-up. But it’s still very funny, and if you haven’t seen it, I strongly suggest you do so soon. Because it can only be a matter of time before YouTube starts removing clips which feature performers who have been deemed offensive by pretty well anyone. Anyone, that is, except middle-aged white male Christians.

Not long ago, thanks to people like Barry Humphries, Clive James and Paul Hogan, our larrikin humour was as much of a tourist drawcard as our quirky wildlife. The PC police may have put a stop to that. It’s certainly true that not everybody who visits Australia these days is going home with aching sides. Not according to the sister of Colombo bomb suspect Abdul Lathief Jameel Mohamed, anyway. ‘After he did his post graduate in Australia he came back to Sri Lanka a different man. He had a long beard and had lost his sense of humour.’