Wiggles drama hits Federal Court
It was in fact 2018 and Field would find support on Twitter after posting on the platform: 'So excited to be named on the 'D' List! … Thank you @insharprelief for all the encouragement to retire! Positive reinforcement is such a powerful tool!'
Within minutes an angry mob of Wiggles fans – that bears repeating – was letting fly with stinging assessments of the 12-page newspaper list, my appearance, my intelligence and my parenting skills in a frank and occasionally blue assessment.
One of the more amusing – and gentler – posts came from a guy who worked out he could rhyme the word 'hunt' from the children's song 'We're Going on a Bear Hunt' with a female body part – a part you won't find in the children's anatomy ditty 'Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes', though may glance in 'Here We Go 'Round the Mulberry Bush'.
As the insults piled up over several days Field's brother and business partner, Paul, co-creator of the group, chimed in to call me 'ageist' – a comment laced with irony, I thought, coming as it did from the men who pensioned off popular original Yellow, Red and Purple Wiggles, Greg Page, Murray Cook and Jeff Fatt.
Since the departure of the trio in 2012, there has been no lack of backroom dramas, primarily related to employee turnover.
The latest relates to the departure of newish CEO Luke O'Neill who has filed a claim in the Federal Court under the Fair Work Act alleging the company breached general protections.
O'Neill's court application alleges 'dismissal in contravention of a general protection' and names the group's co-founder, the Blue Wiggle, as a respondent along with the general counsel of Wiggles Inc Matthew Salgo.
The action will resonate with The Wiggles' most famous casualty, one-time Yellow Wiggle Sam Moran who was harshly axed from the group in 2012.
Unlike O'Neill, who is taking his grievance to court, Moran instead went to the media to clarify the circumstances of his dumping from the group after 10 years, five of which he spent as a principal in Page's yellow skivvy.
Field attempted to justify the decision, saying Moran was merely 'a hired hand' who was 'doing a job'.
Older brother Paul meanwhile said Moran had been 'in contract negotiations' for 'months'.
Their comments prompted Moran to flirt with breaking a gag order in 2013 when he said 'I was not at the end of my contract as Anthony has said' and 'There were no contract negotiations'.
'I was under no illusions that they were the owners (of the brand) and that I was not,' Moran told one news outlet.
'As far as I was concerned, I wanted to continue because I loved what I was doing. I didn't want or plan to do anything else.'
Moran's sacking – reportedly by the group's then managing director Mic Conway, aka the voice of Wags the Dog – was the first insight into the at times 'strictly business' behind-the-scenes operations of Wiggles Inc and the apparent disposability of non-original troupe members.
Moran, who was earning a fraction of the founding members, was let go in 2011 to make way for the return of original member and co-founder Page who had left the group in 2006 citing illness, 15 years after The Wiggles were created.
The return of the mellifluous and good-looking frontman five years later was seen at the time as an attempt to revive the group's former magic but within a year Page had departed again, this time at the front of a conga line of original band members along with Cook and Fatt.
It would emerge years later that Wiggles Inc was at the time reeling from a decline in profits from international sales and the decision, in 2009, to walk away from a longtime licencing deal with Disney.
In 2009 the group had made $48 million.
By 2012 that figure had crashed to $17 million prompting Field, the last original member, and brother Paul, a minor shareholder who also variously served as The Wiggles' manager, general manager of operations and managing director, to take drastic action.
Blue Wiggle Field would claim in his autobiography the company, The Wiggles Pty Ltd, was 'up to (the) eyeballs in debt' by 2012.
They needed a revised plan.
Enter the group's first female Wiggle – and two more men – as Page, Fatt and Cook were replaced by new Yellow Wiggle Emma Watkins, new Purple Wiggle Lachlan Gillespie and new Red Wiggle Simon Pryce.
By then the company was on the verge of being majority owned by the Blue Wiggle who would go on to own 36 per cent while Fatt and Cook held lesser shares.
The long overdue appointment of a female Wiggle proved a huge success – though her short-lived marriage to Gillespie from 2016 – 2018 less so.
By 2020 and the pandemic, new controversy engulfed the group when minor shareholder and co-founder Paul Field departed after a 29-year association.
A Wiggles spokesman left the gate open about Field's departure after failing to expressly confirm Field had in fact had resigned.
Instead they offered that Wiggles Inc was going through 'organisation change'.
Then, in a devastating blow in 2021, the band's most popular member in a decade, Emma Wiggle, walked.
Without their most-loved character and their longtime MD, the group embarked upon a latest reboot which would see The Wiggles double in size.
The expansion from four to eight members was intended rejuvenate the band increase diversity but it didn't please everyone.
Among critics was conservative senator Matt Canavan who stated: 'It was nice while it lasted.'
The arrival of a new CEO in O'Neill in 2023 coincided with revived plans to capture the US but O'Neill's quickie departure now threatens to spill into the public domain more tough goings on behind the doors of what has, in the mind of this writer, transformed into Blue Wiggles Inc.
Coates set to give Sydney the slip
Influential former Olympics boss John Coates is readying his Drummoyne harbourfront apartment for sale.
The news comes as the longtime Olympic powerbroker pushes on with plans to relocate permanently to Queensland ahead of the 2032 Brisbane Games.
The 75-year-old and his second wife Orieta, a former dancer and make-up artist he married in 2017, have high hopes for the St Georges Crescent love nest which he bought in 2010 as a four-bedroom three-bathroom offering.
Coates paid $3.4 million for the apartment.
Since then he has renovated the property.
Locals advise that an upstairs balcony had been closed in to create a spacious office for the sports administrator, wheeler dealer and one-time rower.
The apartment has become largely redundant following the couple's decision to relocate to Burleigh Heads on the Gold Coast.
Coates could not be reached for comment.
Jacenko and Curtis celebrate birthday and profits
Some Sydneysiders found Roxy Jacenko's social media post from Greece last week – published to coincide with birthday celebrations for her one-time insider trader husband Oliver Curtis's 40th birthday – illuminating to say the least.
There has been much speculation about the company the reunited couple has been keeping since Curtis relocated to Singapore seven years ago to reboot his career following his release from jail in 2017.
In the two years since his limelight-loving wife joined him, there have been few public sightings of the pair and their tweenagers Pixie and Hunter.
So Jacenko's post showing the couple playing host to a large crowd in Athens was always going to arouse interest in business and finance circles back in Sydney where Curtis's redemption tale along with his recent change of fortunes is much envied.
As history relates that redemption tale owes much to the disgraced businessman's well-connected father, mining executive and financier Nick Curtis, founder of China's second-largest mine, Sino.
Within months of his son's release from jail for sharing in $1.4 million in illegal profits, Curtis Sr had backed his son into a blockchain-based venture he founded.
Oliver's next leg-up came in 2021 when he was appointed chief operating officer of Tasmanian-based bitcoin miner Firmus Grid where Daddy was chairman.
Then last year came news 'Oli' had managed to turned a $250,000 investment in a Singapore-based data tech start-up centre into an $81 million holding.
Despite claims Curtis is reserved and has few close friends, with news of his changing fortunes one could almost hear the stampede of his new bosom besties.
Curtis Sr didn't make an appearance in the group photo Jacenko posted from Beefbar in Athens' Four Seasons Astir Palace Hotel but given some have been cropped out, perhaps by request, it's possible he was there.
Others looked to be hiding in plain sight.
Take for instance the man standing behind Curtis in the shot.
Sources suggest it is Ben Madsen, one of Curtis's investors in his Singapore data centre start-up Firmus.
Madsen's firm is credit lender Archibald Capital, a backer of wannabe pub baron Jon Adgemis's fast unravelling dream.
Less sheepish about being photographed – and standing plum in the middle of the back row (white shirt) – is Rose Bay Hotel owner James Auswild.
Curtis's Firmus associate Tim Rosenfield also stands to the rear of frame.
Among the women photographed is Sydney interiors and homewares designer Lucy Montgomery, director of resortwear line Findlay the Label Skye Findlay, cleaning and property maintenance businesswoman Stephanie Deligiorgis and singer Alisa Gray.
It appears the new guard has squeezed out the old guard.
Missing from the celebrations are the couple's longtime friends including the chicken heiress Jessica Ingham and the birthday boy's only sister Sophie.
Some suggest the event may have proved emotional for Jacenko.
It is, after all, the same town in which her former boyfriend, the convicted drug dealer and Australian gangster John Macris, was shot and killed in 2018.
Booty call for MacSween and Hildebrand
A spin-off podcast of long-running TV panel show Beauty and the Beast has its premiere on Monday.
Provocatively retitled Booty and the Beasts – The Podcast, the program will reunite original Beauties Prue MacSween and Carlotta and introduce some outraged and outrageous new talent.
Among the new faces will be barrister Margaret Cunneen, former senator Hollie Hughes, journalist Lucy Zelic and former NSW Liberal Party Vice President Teena McQueen.
Filling the shoes of longtime Australian 'beast', originally played by broadcaster Stan Zamanek, will be a revolving door of commentators including broadcasters John Stanley and Gary Hardgrave, media all-rounder Joe Hildebrand and newspaper columnist Tim Blair.
Produced by Prue MacSween, Booty and the Beasts – The Podcast aims, she said, to answer the growing demand for unfiltered, unapologetic and non-PC entertainment.
'Everywhere I go, people celebrate the original show and ask when it will return,' MacSween said.
'It was a favourite with people of all ages who enjoyed the refreshing honesty, exchange of views, irreverence, battle of the sexes and laughs. This is what Booty and the Beasts – The Podcast will deliver.'
The podcast is set to stream on major podcast platforms from 18 August.
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Street mural artist TWOONE leaves his ArtCube mark on Gippsland
In an otherwise unassuming supermarket car park in Gippsland, three painters lay drop sheets and go about setting up for a day's painting. Their canvases are three industrially built cubes at the South Gippsland council offices in Leongatha, south-east of Melbourne. The ArtCubes have been transformed into vibrant blue, red and green murals, depicting local wildlife and detailed florals, creating a striking contrast to the industrial grey backdrop of the car park. International artist Hiroyasu Tsuri, better known as TWOONE, is the creative mind behind the project. Born in Yokohama, Tsuri developed an interest in drawing and crafting at an early age through skateboard graphics and graffiti. In 2004, he moved to Melbourne where he joined the underground street art scene, quickly gaining prominence as one of Australia's finest street artists. He has since exhibited in galleries around the world, gaining prominence for mural paintings and public artworks in countries including Italy, France, Japan and Germany. Tsuri said a big appeal of painting in public was the accessibility it gave to artwork. "I believe art is quite important and a valuable thing for anyone and everyone, but if you are not working in a public space, say in traditional museums or art galleries, then the audience who comes to see your work is only the people who are actually interested in this kind of stuff," he said. "When you are painting in a public space, you encounter pretty much anyone and everyone who lives in that area. "I definitely take something from everywhere that I go when I make a public work. "I really feel like it's an exchange, it's not just me leaving my mark." Tsuri said he was drawn to the project as it was an opportunity to work with the next generation of artists. "This project was a bit more special because it was asking to do a mentorship program with the local creatives and as much as I love painting public murals myself, I think I see sharing my ideas and skills and experiences that I gather along the world with other people is quite an important part of my practice," he said. Eileen Tanaka was one of the participants chosen for the program. Having studied art at school, her love for painting has become a hobby. "The first day we started was terrible, it just poured for like two hours straight, so we had to go home early," Ms Tanaka said. "But I guess it doesn't really matter, it affects the art in a way where it kind of makes it better because of the dripping. She said the chance to work with someone of Tsuri's standard who also shared a Japanese background was a special opportunity. "We don't have many Japanese artists around here, so having someone who has the same interests as me and is doing so well in the field and has decided to come to Gippsland … is really exciting," she said. Fellow student Riam Chilver said he loved learning new painting techniques. He said more opportunities to engage young artists in the region would be beneficial. "I think it would be really cool to have more mentorship kind of programs and a lot of collaborating as well on murals and public art," he said.

ABC News
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A young skater caught in a police crackdown is back in the spotlight, 50 years later
For Jean Hopcraft, this was all quite familiar. The interview, the camera crew and the questions about the rollerskates. The 69-year-old has been living a quiet and hidden life in Melbourne's inner suburbs. But in the late 1970s, she was turning heads. Almost 50 years later, her dormant fame has returned after an old video of her went viral. Loading Instagram content The ABC republishes archival stories on social media to revisit the best stories about Australians from the past. Over the past few weeks, more than a million people have watched a social media post showing a young Jean rollerskating through Melbourne. While many dream of having the kind of fame brought on by the likes of TikTok and Instagram, Jean was not after that at all. "It's bizarre that they've clicked on it," she said. "Who would have thought anybody would be interested in somebody on rollerskates from all those years ago?" Rolling to fame In 1977, ABC reporter Terry McMahon interviewed a young woman who was quite popular on the city streets of Melbourne. She travelled around on rollerskates despite an active police crackdown that saw officers confiscating them from those they caught. Skateboards and rollerskates were regarded as a public nuisance at that time. Jean was 21 when she was interviewed about her rollerskating by the ABC in the late 1970s. ( ABC archive ) Jean was a 21-year-old college student whose studies and work revolved around the CBD, and a pair of rollerskates was her chosen mode of transport for 14 years. With worn-out skates strapped onto the feet and her best outfit on, she zoomed past pedestrians, catching attention as she glided. McMahon: What about when you're out on the street? Do people stare? Jean Hopcraft: Yeah, they stare most of the time, but I don't take any notice of them. McMahon: What about police? Jean Hopcraft: No problems. Few years ago, with the skateboards, they clamped down, told me to take them off. But I put them on when I got around the corner … I won't give them away yet. Looking back, she never expected her playful antics to turn her into a public figure. "There was quite a bit of press because I [skated] for a long time, so they were very familiar with this girl just skating around the city," Jean said. "Little snippets in the paper … newspapers reaching out to me. "I just became part of the fabric of Melbourne." This was the first time Jean watched the TV story produced by the ABC in 1977. ( ABC News: Danielle Bonica ) About the same time, Jean also featured on a daytime current affairs television program presented by Mickie de Stoop, which featured stories of pioneering women. Yet underneath the energetic but nonchalant persona portrayed in printed columns and black-and-white photographs, Jean faced significant societal drawbacks. Not fitting the mould The 1970s were a very different time for women. It was a period when career options were slim and freedom of expression, especially by clothing, could be frowned upon. "I actually wanted to be a painter, a decorator like my dad but, in those days, women weren't allowed to do those sorts of jobs," Jean said. "It was deemed not suitable for women." Roller skating was a cheap and easy mode of transport for young Jean Hopcroft. ( Supplied ) Rollerskating was a cheap and easy mode of transport for a young Jean Hopcraft. (Supplied) Despite a police crackdown, Jean was spotted roller skating in popular spots in Melbourne's CBD. ( Supplied/ABC News: Danielle Bonica ) Despite a police crackdown, Jean was spotted rollerskating in popular spots in Melbourne's CBD. (Supplied/ABC News: Danielle Bonica) The local newspaper writes about Jean travelling through the city on a pair of roller skates. ( Supplied ) The local newspaper writes about Jean travelling through the city on her rollerskates. (Supplied) Instead, she studied fashion and textile at the Emily McPherson College, which was known for its cookery and dressmaking courses. Even within university walls, Jean didn't always stick to the status quo. The queer community was her clique, and she wasn't afraid to break a few college rules — including the skating. "I guess you'd call me a freak … because I didn't fit the mould," Jean said. "Women couldn't wear trousers way back then. We had to get a petition together to see if women could wear pants and trousers. "I got pulled over at school and almost expelled because they didn't like the idea of a woman skating. "I stood up for what I believed." 'Classic Jean' Over the phone from New York, Jean and her husband Peter Hoyland's daughter, Eliza Hoyland, wasn't surprised about her mother's sudden return to stardom back home. "She's a very interesting person, my mum," Eliza said. The ABC post was the first time Eliza found out her mother had ever been interviewed by the news outlet. "I'm watching and I'm like, 'What in the world is this?'" "I think I watched it like 20 times in a row." Eliza Hoyland said she is in awe of Jean, who she thinks is the "best mum ever". ( Supplied: Eliza Hoyland ) For Eliza, a huge chunk of her mum's youth has been like scattered puzzle pieces waiting to be put together. She said Jean had always assured the family that "there'll be nothing about her" on the internet. "I googled her and this photo of her came up in her rollerblading look, and she's in this leopard skin suit," she said. "My mum is very private and very timid, but then she has this huge life that [Dad and I] are always trying to creep in [on]." One of Eliza's absolute joys was watching Jean rollerskate during a birthday celebration in 2023. In 2023, Jean put her rollerskates back on in a rink in New York. ( Supplied: Eliza Hoyland ) At the Rockefeller Center, the rollerskater flaunted her self-taught skills like she never left the rink. For Jean, it was all muscle memory. "She was zooming around the rink and doing laps on my friends and like, 'Get out of the way!'" Eliza recalled. "It's classic Jean. She's an icon." Peter Hoyland said he's met strangers who recognise Jean from the viral clip. ( ABC News: Danielle Bonica ) Peter Hoyland, whose career in the music industry has introduced him to several notable artists, said it had been "fun" and "fantastic" to meet people buzzing about his wife's renewed popularity. "I said, "Now you're the most famous person that I know,'" Peter said. A friend even warned the couple about the possibility of Jean becoming an internet meme. "Yes, I'm waiting for that," Peter said. Jean Hopcraft enjoys reading books and gardening in her inner Melbourne home. ( ABC News: Danielle Bonica ) Jean will soon turn 70 and is now living a quieter life, enjoying her retirement. She gardens, travels to the US to visit her daughter, and reminisces about her earlier days on her trusty skates. "I didn't care," she said. "I couldn't afford a car. I had my own ideas of what was right and wrong." Always in awe of her mother and the hidden stories of her past, Eliza described Jean as a "wonderful human" with an amazing story waiting to be told. "She's always going to be standing up for herself and the people around her," she said. "I was just like, 'You haven't changed a bit. Yes, you might only wear black now, but you really are exactly the same.'"

ABC News
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After years of private turmoil, Alex Lloyd is ready for the spotlight again
Life was so sweet for Alex Lloyd for a while. Amazing, even. The boy from Balmain's hit song had catapulted him to stardom. He'd met and married his great love, started a family and moved to London. But then, to borrow from the lyrics of that song that is so deeply woven into Australia's fabric, every wolf was at his door. "I ended up in a place where no one could really help me," Alex tells Australian Story in an exclusive interview. A legal fight over the authorship of Amazing sparked an unravelling. Resurfaced childhood trauma led to a marriage breakdown, extreme weight gain and ultimately an addiction to oxycodone that saw the four-time ARIA Award winner, including three for Best Male Artist, fade from view. But now, at 50, with his first studio album in 12 years in the works, Alex Lloyd is learning to "be OK with me" and is ready to do some amazing things. "Now, I'm seeing the world differently. And I think I'm ready to share this part of me now and be scrutinised again," he says. He was a chubby kid with a mohawk, an acoustic guitar and a voice that mesmerised the bustling crowd at the Balmain Markets in the mid-1980s. "He would play blues covers with such strength and conviction, people would just stop what they were doing," says friend Sally Gluckstern, who met Alex when he was 10. "He came alive when he sang, but when he wasn't singing, he was incredibly shy," she recalls. "I remember feeling there was something sort of heavy about him. Heavy inside." Music was always Alex's escape from a chaotic childhood of dyslexia, violence, love and loss. By 13, he was gigging at pubs and his bluesy, soulful voice and poignant storytelling would become his ticket out of struggle street. When Amazing hit the airwaves in 2001, it took Alex into rarefied air. "It genuinely is one of the Aussie anthems of the last 25 years," says friend and former triple j announcer Adam Spencer. "It's left an indelible mark on Australian music." They were heady days — travelling the world, partying and making music. "I've had some extreme highs, like highs that hardly anyone gets to experience," says Alex. "I got to sing in a castle and meet kings and queens and princesses, like, it's crazy." He married Amelia Mills, who he'd spotted in the crowd on a tour for his debut album Black the Sun, became a dad and moved to London to work on his first independent album. He was the "happiest guy on the planet". Then, the legal letter arrived. Out of the blue, truck driver and one-time musician Mark O'Keefe alleged Alex had stolen Amazing. O'Keefe claimed he'd co-written the hit with Alex on the back of coasters when they played at the same pub when Alex was a teenager. The "ridiculous" claim challenged Alex's artistic integrity. "I couldn't think of anything worse than stealing somebody's song," he says. But more destructively, in order to rebut the claim, Alex had to cast his mind back to those tough years he thought he'd left behind. Childhood trauma "just comes and bites you in the arse", Alex says. Alex's parents split when he was about six, and he and his brother, Oliver, lived with their mother, Bridget Lloyd. He loved his "crazy in a beautiful way" mum, a struggling artist who'd start painting at midnight, waking Alex up with the smell of oil paint and Ry Cooder on the stereo. Her relationship with a violent binge drinker led to terrifying times, when the man would beat Bridget, "banging her head against the hard wood floor". Alex would try to intervene but was too young and powerless — and had his own battles with his volatile brother. "I had to go back in time and discover all this shit that I hadn't dealt with," Alex says. "The beatings on my mother, the beatings from my brother, being called a fat shit all the time." When Bridget died suddenly, when Alex was 16, he "cried for six months". The legal action took him back there, with O'Keefe initially claiming Amazing was written in 1989 soon after Bridget's death. But Bridget died in 1991. O'Keefe withdrew his claim soon after the case reached court, but the damage was done. Depression set in, his weight ballooned and the songs wouldn't flow. "I fell apart," Alex says. "I was scared to write songs on my own because I thought, 'If I write this song on my own, anyone can say they wrote it.''" By 2012, Alex and the family returned to Australia but the marriage didn't survive. Losing Amelia and not living with his four children sent Alex into a spiral. On the weekends, when he had the kids, he'd cook up a storm and "pull out all stops". But when they left, he'd walk up the street to the bottle shop. "I'd buy really expensive champagne … and a pack of Twisties," Alex says. "Then the next three days, I'd eat KFC and Pizza Hut and Domino's. And I'd lie in bed." He was frittering money away, "trying to doubly be destructive to my bank balance", which had already taken a $300,000 hit in legal fees from the court case. Performing had always been a joy but this period was different. "I was 168kg and I was going out and doing shows in front of 10,000 people with my face on a massive screen," Alex says. Photographs of him online attracted a flood of fat-shaming comments. "I didn't feel very good about myself," he says. "[I was] in a lot of pain all the time, emotionally and physically." He was suffering crippling nerve pain caused by the complete wearing away of the cartilage between vertebrae in his neck. Nothing he was prescribed worked. One day, someone offered him the painkilling opioid oxycodone. It is, Alex says, "an evil drug". None of Alex's rock star partying prepared him for the insidious assault of oxycodone. At first, he thought: "This is the answer to everything." His pain was managed, his depression eased and he was motivated, pulling back his drinking and running long distances. But, he says: "I had no idea what I was getting into with that drug … I didn't know how addictive it was." He took more and more — but it wasn't enough. He tried to get off it but couldn't. "Eventually, it's a very empty, lonely sense of impending doom," Alex says. It was in this state that Alex headed to Brisbane to do some gigs with multi-instrumentalist Salliana Seven. She describes Alex as an open soul and says he never tried to hide his addiction from her. His failed attempts to break free of oxycodone were heartbreaking. "I saw him at his lowest of the lowest of low," she says. "You know, suicidal." "As cooked as he was when I met him … he opens his mouth and I'm just blown away." Relief came with Suboxone, a medication to treat opioid dependence. It was a gruelling transition as his body adjusted, but his children, and his renewed joy for music, gave him the impetus to push through. "I think he's finally let go of the broken fairytale of his marriage," Salliana says. "I really feel that losing that just destroyed him on top of all the other trauma that he's had … He's moving through that, which is massive." As he works through his own long-buried trauma, Alex is hoping to help today's kids navigate tough times by working with the KIDS Foundation. "I really believe in and want to be an advocate for childhood trauma and giving kids skills at an early age to deal with it later because it hit me and I didn't even know what it was," he says. At a recent musical workshop, as Alex sits in a field with a guitar on his lap, a couple of teens share their fear of being judged, or trolled, for their music. Alex tells them that every artist must face those fears, and every artist falls on their face at some time. Getting back up is where the success lies. "You can't beat yourself up over everything," Alex says, as much to himself as the kids. "Otherwise, you'd just be stuck there forever. There is no such thing as mistakes, only lessons."