From the desk of Roland Rocchiccioli – 14 March

I am partial to a good anecdote, apocryphal, or not! To suit an audience, I have been known to claim the best as my own; however, I loathe prurient, malicious gossip.

IT is even more objectionable when it is cloaked in supercilious, middle-class morality, and pseudo-intellectual, psychological gobbledegook which feigns justification, and allows the gossipmonger to meddle in the personal affairs of the hapless victims.

Put simply: What people choose to do with their amoureuse, providing it is does not fall outside of the law, is no-one else’s business. I relish the sentiments of the late Victorian actress, Mrs Patrick Campbell. She said, “Does it really matter what these affectionate people do — so long as they don’t do it in the streets and frighten the horses!”

To my best recollection, I have never met the Richmond AFL coach, Damien Hardwick; certainly, I have never met his partner, Alexandra Crow. Judging from a distance, they appear perfectly charming people.

For reasons beyond my limited comprehension, the state of their private lives has become fodder for the sport’s media. Why, I cannot imagine. I say, without fear of contradiction, the personal peccadilloes of various of the pundits who are now relishing judgement would, if they were made public, make for attention-grabbing copy. I never would, but woe betide the day I should publicly share my storehouse of information. Many people would be ducking for cover!

The minutiae of their romantic association, and how it came to pass, matters not a jot. It is the business, only, of those people most directly involved, and I would not presume to pass any reproachful comment, or an opinion, on their choices. It is none of our business.

Mr Hardwick and Ms Crow are not two giddy teenagers in the first rush of irrepressible, pubescent lust. They are mature adults – he is in his 40s, and she is in her 30s – and are, I assume, well equipped to make those difficult decisions which best serve them.

God knows: Life is ephemeral and tough enough without destructive busy bodies sticking their beaks when they have no place to be.

A recent newsprint story spuriously exploited Mr Hardwick’s relationship with Ms Crow to question the legacy of the senior coach’s tenure with the Richmond Football Club. It was, patently, the worst kind of shilling-shocker gossip-mongering masquerading as serious journalism; an opportunity to pretend Mr Hardwick’s circumspect life outside of the football club affects each, and every, member of the organisation. What a load of unadulterated codswallop!

One could be forgiven for viewing the article, which masqueraded as objective comment, as nothing more than a ruse to gossip, hurtfully.

The story was disagreeable on several levels: Firstly, it was blatant scandalmongering brushed with smug, disingenuous disquiet; and secondly, and drawing a very long bow, it attempted to advocate how aspects of the couple’s association might well be in breach of the accepted workplace balance-of-power, and political correctness. What drivel!

My late mother, Beria, had three husbands, and a number of liaisons. Never did she find found the partner of her romantic notions. In retrospect, she was looking for love in all the wrong places.

Finding another person to satisfy you ‘adverbially’, and for the rest of your life, is a difficult task. Some do find the perfect soul mate; others spend their lives seeking, relentlessly.

When a relationship runs its course, as sometimes they do, everyone reacts differently. Some chose to stay; others elect to go. It depends on the couple, entirely. I have spent the greater part of my life with my nose in a script, probing the human condition. The one thing I have learned is that no two characters are the same.

To pass a judgement on someone else’s predicament is impertinent.

Society would be more congenial if everyone minded their own bloody business!

You can contact Roland, no gossip – please, via [email protected].