In 1986 Malcolm Fraser wandered into the foyer of a seedy Memphis hotel with his pants down. It was at about, or perhaps exactly, that time that I began to like , even admire him – increasingly as the years wound on.
Anyway, it’s little known that on his way home from Memphis he visited Easter Island, to meet his distant relatives. Nine months later there was a population explosion of statues. Standing room only. You can look this up.
