By 1895, in Australia a ‘battler’ was someone trying to live off betting on horse races despite always losing, and from the late 1800s through to the 1950s, it referred to a female sex worker who went about her business without a pimp. For Moore, then, ‘the battler was a person at the very lowest end of society, who struggled to eke out a very basic existence’.
Prisons in Victoria are at bursting point, with a recent policy shift away from parole programs making life inside ever more dangerous. But, with the public generally apathetic about the plight of prisoners, little is being done to rectify the worsening crisis.
The revolution will not be roboticised. An android uprising is as likely as a chimp revolution and no one pays heed to the wild-eyed guy tapping his Planet of the Apes box set and muttering ‘it’s all in here, man…’
It’s been a time defined by vitriolic and misogynistic attacks on women who dare to make or critique videogames and birther-movement-level conspiracy theories about the corruption supposedly at the core of videogames journalism.
Irwin draws them in close. ‘It’s not lest we forget,’ he tells them, ‘it’s lest we remember. That’s what all this is about – the memorials, the Cenotaph, the two minutes’ silence. Because there is no better way of forgetting something than by commemorating it.’