Published in Overland Issue 215 Winter 2014 · Uncategorized After the riot Ann de Hugard ‘Order has been restored … breakfast has been served.’ – Scott Morrison when interviewed after a riot on Manus Island And what did you eat for breakfast, Mr Morrison – after a silent grace to thank your bountiful god? All-Bran? Or, as you are visiting Darwin when the news breaks, a platter of tropical fruit? Papaya cut like a sickle moon, and lady finger bananas peeled clean, soft flesh unmarked, satin on the tongue? Next, toast spread thin with Seville orange marmalade? Makes your lips pucker, that sweet-sour taste. And coffee? I imagine a demitasse, a short black to wash away residual sweetness. A little bitterness won’t hurt. Then time to wipe your mouth with the damask napkin, take the toothpick provided for a little extra grooming. One cannot be too fastidious. Now practise that expression: smile, then tighten lips and belt and stride out to face the querulous mob. Cut a swath through all the messy business, solemn tone, dispense the usual platitudes (sympathy to the family). But keep it rolling, no time for irritating questions. Or any hint of the Good Samaritan. That would be irrelevant now order has been restored and breakfast has been served. Ann de Hugard Ann de Hugard’s publications include A Question of Translation (Australian Poetry Centre) and Breath (Mark Time). She is the coordinator of the Castlemaine Word Mine, a centre for readers and writers. More by Ann de Hugard › Overland is a not-for-profit magazine with a proud history of supporting writers, and publishing ideas and voices often excluded from other places. If you like this piece, or support Overland’s work in general, please subscribe or donate. Related articles & Essays 21 April 202621 April 2026 · Reviews Pilled to the gills: Ariel Bogle and Cam Wilson’s Conspiracy Nation Cher Tan The question that Conspiracy Nation implicitly raises isn’t why people believe in conspiracy theories but rather why people have stopped trusting official narratives. But what do we do with this knowledge? When we call something a conspiracy theory, what work are we doing? Who benefits from that designation? 17 April 2026 · Friday Fiction These old hands, they are still growing Sam Fisher It was an old house meshed in an unrelenting grid of brick and weatherboard. Its walls still stood stark, red brick. Paint like tender old sagging skin on the timber windows. A bastard of a garden surrounded it, ran up brick wall and concrete path. The lawn, dead that time of year, luminescent in the streetlight. In the center of that void, a sign, Auction.