That a man has been charged so quickly for allegedly bashing 25-year-old Courtney Herron to death in what police describe as a "horrendous" act of extreme violence is some, small comfort in a city in which so many women have fallen victim to violence – so much so that both the lord mayor and the Police Minister say they are afraid alone at night.

Four women in less than 12 months have been found dead in public places; such a shocking toll that even hardened homicide police say they are angry.

On Saturday, after Ms Herron's "horrifically" assaulted body was found in Royal Park by dog walkers, Assistant Commissioner Luke Cornelius, took the unprecedented – and highly significant – step of fronting a press conference and naming what killed her.

"Men's behaviour."

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As the ripple effect of yet another woman found slaughtered radiated though a city where women want to feel safe, but are continually shown evidence that we can't, Mr Cornelius got in fast with a message we absolutely needed to hear.

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Women, it is not your fault that you are victims of violent crime. Not if you are out alone. Not if it's night.  Not if you are homeless, as Ms Herron is said to have been in recent times. Never. At last, we heard it from the top.

"There have been instances in our recent past where women have been attacked and they have been attacked by men," he said. "The key point is [that] this is about men's behaviour, it's not about women's behaviour."

He went further: "Every time I hear about a woman being attacked – for me as a man – it gives me some pause for reflection about what it is in our community that makes men think it's OK to attack women, or take what they want from women."

This represents a quantum leap in how senior law enforcers discuss women's safety in real time; it reinforces the unconditional right of women to feel and be safe, and sets a new standard of honesty in how we discuss the root causes of a wave of killings that continue to rock the city.

It comes just one month after 33-year-old Geelong woman, Natalina Angok’s body was found in a laneway in Chinatown, four months after 21 year-old international exchange student, Aiia Maasarwe was found (allegedly raped and murdered) in Bundoora and less than a year after 22 year-old Euridyce Dixon was discovered (raped and murdered) in Princes Park.

Previous police remarks made after "horrendous crimes" against women (as this one was dubbed at the scene on Saturday by the homicide squad's Andrew Stamper), still sting, and rightly.

They implied the victim may somehow have been partly culpable for the heinous violence done to her, and by extension that the responsibility for women not being killed is on women.

When 17-year-old school girl Masa Vukotic was stabbed 49 times while jogging in a Doncaster park near her home in 2015, the advice of Detective Inspector Mick Hughes shocked many.

“I suggest to people, particularly females, [that] they shouldn’t be alone in parks,” Detective Inspector Hughes told ABC radio.

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Masa Vukotic was killed in broad daylight doing her usual exercise routine, yet somehow the message here was she shouldn't have been. Though of course no policeman sets out to implicate a woman in her own demise, and those who have been seen to have no doubt suffered from the backlash, on hearing this, many women and no doubt plenty of men were appalled.

Incredibly, something similar happened after the death of 22-year-old Ms Dixon, who was killed not far from the location of Ms Herron's body. She was murdered while walking home from a comedy gig where she had performed.

Superintendent David Clayton remarked at the time that given the park was an area of "high community activity", women needed to be wary.

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“Just make sure you have situational awareness, that you’re aware of your surroundings,” he said. “If you’ve got a mobile phone carry it and if you’ve got any concerns, call police.” At the time police suspected another assault in the area could have been perpetrated by the then-unknown killer of Ms Dixon.

As Premier Daniel Andrews pointed out, Ms Dixon did have a phone, and was using it: “She was keeping an eye on her surroundings. Looking out for herself. Being responsible. Doing everything we expect."

His Facebook post after Mr Clayton's unfortunate comments harked back to remarks by many who simply refuse to get it that it is perpetrators, not victims, who are solely to blame for murder, made on social media after the brutal rape and murder of Jill Meagher. They asked, "Why was she out at night alone?" Answer, why shouldn't she be? Men are, all the time.

To state the blindingly obvious, it is devastating that it took yet another killing of a woman to bring out the strongest, spontaneous language yet from the most powerful law enforcers around what causes violence against women, and what doesn't.

As we struggle to absorb the violent death of one more woman who should have been safe, hearing Mr Cornelius name something which has previously been padded around offers a tiny glimmer of light.

When we find an answer to his question, what is it in our community "that makes men think it's OK to attack women, or take what they want from women", perhaps this horrific toll will decline.

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If ever there was a quintessentially English band it's gotta be the Cure, right?

Arriving around the time of New Wave back in 1979, the Cure were never about anarchy or unemployment or all that other new-wavy stuff; rather, they were about the ever-ongoing dislocation of an English childhood. There's a lot of Narnia and Gormenghast in those early grooves.

I used to hear that song about the tap going drip-drip-drip on a Saturday night all the time on Double J; it was a staple, along with Boys Don't Cry and the Albert Camus-inspired Killing an Arab. They were inventing what some American writers would later describe as "mope rock". Wow!

Remember when they first toured Australia and played on Countdown? They had two bass guitars and when they mimed to Primary Robert frontman Smith's strings were all detuned and floppy and they looked really cool.

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Smith didn't seem like anyone else we'd had before, with his big hair and his strange make-up that was a long way from glam. Things got darker and darker for a while, until their darkest hour, Pornography. It was a doomy, gloomy listen, that's for sure, the antithesis of all that horrible jolly pop music that was cluttering up the charts back in 1982.

Then, the band suddenly took a swerve into the real mainstream, and a bunch of hits and cool videos – Let's Go To Bed, The Love Cats, Why Can't I Be You? – sent them up into the real charts and they were bona fide rock stars selling out arenas and stadiums and they never looked back.

Members seemed to come and go. It was really only Robert and Simon Gallup that seemed to be the mainstays. And then Robert joined Siouxsie and the Banshees on the guitar for a few records, which has got to make him doubly cooler than ever.

The hits kept coming and the videos were all over MTV and The Head on the Door and Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me sold by the millions. Robert was playing a lot of six-string bass by now and that gave the Cure a very distinctive sound that sometimes almost veered into New Order territory.

Then in 1989 came Disintegration, where it all it came together. This masterwork yielded even more (seemingly accidental) massive hits, with Pictures of You and Lullaby – a song about an arachnaphobic kid who fears going to bed. In fact, Robert Smith always reminded of me some Christopher Robin type who can never grow up and who's having a bad trip living in some twilight lonely world halfway between childhood and a bedsit existence through a nightmarish looking glass.

The music on Disintegration pulled off the nearly impossible trick of being catchy as all hell whilst maintaining its indie integrity, and when it all comes together it is a truly lovely, idiosyncratic rush of melodic misery.

It's still one of my favourite records from the '80s and its influence can never be overstated. The six-string bass picking out those catchy lines while the four-string bass rumbles along, and Smith's unmistakable voice like an overgrown schoolboy always lost, lonely and longing.

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Disintegration would be a hard record to follow up, and 1992's Wish seemed like Disintegration part 2, just not as good. Having said that, it did spawn a massive hit single in Friday I'm in Love, which was flogged on MTV like all get out.

There have been four albums since then, but none seemed to escape the massive shadow cast by Disintegration, the album that they will play live in full at Vivid.

Last year we were asked to play the Meltdown festival in London, curated by Robert. It made sense to me that Robert was digging the Church and that he was interested in some of the stuff we were doing.

How I would love to say that we hung out in London and that I met Mary (his long-time partner) and that he and I sat around jamming on six-string basses and discussing CS Lewis and Mervyn Peake. But alas, when we came offstage there was a bottle of champers and a note saying sorry he'd missed us but there'd been some family stuff he had to attend. Oh well … never mind.

Hey, I'm still available for some six-string jamming and discussions of Narnia, Bob. Just DM me on the socials and I'll be there with bells on.

Anyway, the Cure at the Opera House will be a glorious gothy wallow. So get out your black clothes and your lipstick and eyeliner and prepare to take the Cure. I guarantee it'll be a monster!

Steve Kilbey is the bassist, songwriter and lead singer of the Church, and an ARIA Hall of Fame inductee.

Vocus Group has opened its books to Swedish private equity group EQT Infrastructure after the telco received a $3.3 billion indicative offer.

In a statement to the ASX on Monday, Vocus it had received a confidential, non-binding indicative proposal at $5.25 a share, subject to due diligence. Vocus shares closed on Friday at $3.89.

The proposal is also subject to financing and the full support of the Vocus board.

"After consideration by the board and the company's advisers, the board decided to grant non-exclusive due diligence access to EQT to enable EQT to potentially put a formal binding proposal to Vocus. That process is likely to take a number of weeks," said the ASX statement from Vocus which also mentioned it has appointed UBS and Allens as its advisers.

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The board, led by Bob Mansfield, said there is no certainty the process will lead to an offer for the telco.

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Vocus shares were trading as high as $9 just three years ago.

The telco was hit with a class action in April over a profit downgrade in 2017 that triggered a share price rout.

Vocus said at the time that it would defend the claim brought against it by law firm Slater and Gordon on behalf of investors in the group.

In a statement of claim, the shareholders allege Vocus also breached its continuous obligation requirements by not confessing to its missed profit forecast to investors earlier.

Vocus shocked the market in May 2017 when it announced it expected its full-year profit for the year to June 30, 2017 to come in at between $160 million and $165 million – a significant drop on its earlier forecast profit of between $205 million and $215 million for the same period.

Vocus shares fell about 27 per cent in the days following the downgrade.

The downgrade came amid executive upheaval at Vocus following a failed tilt by founder and then director James Spenceley and Amcom chairman Tony Grist to spill the leadership of the group.

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Mr Spenceley and Mr Grist resigned from the board after Vocus resisted their spill push.

The tension is rippling through the room; you can almost see it shimmer as more than 250 Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples pause for a heavy, silent moment.

Professor Megan Davis, an indomitable Cobble Cobble woman, pro-vice chancellor at the University of NSW and member of the Referendum Council, has just spoken into life the Uluru Statement from the Heart.

The Uluru statement takes only three minutes to read but you do not have to tell the people in the room how weighty these minutes are. It is right to pause, to draw breath, to consider what these words have captured:

The more than 60 millenniums of spiritual and physical connection to country. Sovereignty never ceded.

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The generations of activism and advocacy by our ancestors who fought an existential battle so that we could take our rightful place in, and on our own country. We are still here, still striving.

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Six months of intense dialogue with more than 1,200 Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples across urban, regional and remote Australia. Hearts and minds, bound together in vision and hope.

Two days of robust exploration, challenge and debate at the constitutional convention, not knowing whether all this work would result in a consensus to drive the constitutional and structural reforms so badly needed by our people. And if we do deliver consensus, will it be heard?

Finally, these three minutes.

The beauty of these heartfelt words cannot hide the substance of the proposed reforms: Voice, Treaty, Truth. There should be no debate about the need for significant constitutional and structural reform but sadly that battle is still ahead of us. As Megan speaks, we are already resolved.

With love and hope, the Uluru Statement delivers a final, remarkable gift: an invitation to the people of Australia to walk with us on a path towards a more spiritually generous and inclusive nation that is truly at peace with itself and its history. A nation that has the richness and genius of its First Peoples and their heritage at the core of its identity.

All of this in three minutes as Megan quietly finishes her beautiful reading.

A pause, a breath.

Then more than 250 Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples from all corners of the nation, stand as one and erupt into thunderous applause. People who had ferociously debated one another over the previous two days now grasp hands and embrace, bound together in unity.

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But there is one last critical task that must be completed. There must be an endorsement of the Uluru statement to cement this spontaneous and emphatic response to that first reading.

We talk about leadership and how important it is to our people. This moment, right now, is where we need it most.

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Up steps Uncle*, whose name is recognised from the streets of his beloved Redfern, across our nation, to the assembly halls of the UN.

A giant of a man, with a slightly stooped stance that bears the weight of his lifetime of service to his people, he quietly shuffles across the front of the room. He has recognised this moment and in his wise and gentle way, is leading us through it. He reaches the chairperson of the meeting, briefly whispers in his ear and then turns around and shuffles back to his seat.

The chairperson addresses the room and says that he’s received a suggestion from the floor that the Uluru statement, as read by Megan, should be put to the meeting and accepted. There is a resounding "yes" and when the motion is put, the sea of hands could not be more emphatic. There is no doubt that this is now a truly historic consensus and a compelling mandate for reform.

And yet only months later, this heartfelt, historic invitation to the people of Australia was abruptly rejected by former prime minister Malcolm Turnbull. History will pass its own judgment on this act.

Not long after, Uncle passed away like so many of our people, well before his time. The Uluru statement, bearing his bold signature, was carried down Redfern Street as part of the funeral procession. In honouring his life, we were also making a promise to continue to carry the vision of the Uluru statement to the people of Australia.

Momentum is building. Many organisations like the Australian Medical Association and the Australian Council of Social Service have expressed public support and the Australian business community in particular is leading the way, including the Business Council of Australia, BHP and Rio Tinto. In March, 18 of the country’s leading law firms signed a joint statement of support and last week 21 of the nation’s leading fund managers, investment banks, super funds and the top four advisory firms also issued a strong statement of support.

There is opportunity for Prime Minister Morrison to seize this moment and etch his name in history by backing a referendum to enshrine a First Nations Voice in the constitution.

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Ultimately, it is for the people of Australia to accept the Uluru statement’s invitation and share in the promise of a fuller expression of Australia’s nationhood. There is great hope that you will.

Dean Parkin is from the Quandamooka People of Minjerribah (North Stradbroke Island) and is an investment analyst with Tanarra Capital. He was a facilitator for 12 regional dialogues and the Uluru Constitutional Convention.

* Name has been withheld to respect cultural protocol.

Tokyo: Plenty of world leaders have tried to butter up President Donald Trump with flattery and favors. Japan's Shinzo Abe has raised the bar for all of them.

First Abe treated his friend to a round of golf (with tweeted selfie). Then the Prime Minister allowed Trump to take center stage at a sumo wrestling match , where he spent the better part of the day watching large men in loin cloths and bare feet brawl inside a ring.

When it was over, Trump did what no other American president has done. Climbing into the elevated dirt ring, or "dohyo," in ceremonial slippers, Trump presented a hulking 27-kilogram trophy to the tournament champion – a cup that Trump said he hoped would be used for "many hundreds of years".

"I hereby award you the United States President's Cup," Trump told Asanoyama, the sumo champion, as he read from a scroll.

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From there, it was off to a "couple's dinner" for the Trumps and Abes.

The golf, sumo, dinner – with a cheeseburger lunch wedged in – were part of a diplomatic package designed by Abe to stay on Trump's good side amid tensions between their governments over trade and other issues .

Sunday was all about keeping Trump happy. An effusive Abe described their buddy time as "cozy."

It began with 16 holes of golf at Mobara Country Club, where they were joined by Japanese pro Isao Aoki. On the lunch menu: double cheeseburgers, made with US beef.

Abe next introduced Trump to Japan's ancient sport of sumo wrestling, which Trump had previously said he finds "fascinating." Even so, at times he appeared somewhat bored at Ryogoku Kokugikan Stadium.

Loud applause greeted Trump as he entered the arena and took his seat a few rows behind the ring, in a break from the custom of sitting cross-legged on cushions. Trump, Abe and their wives were among an estimated 11,500 fans there to see who would claim the title.

The Japan Sumo Association put in place special safety precautions because of Trump's presence, including selling fewer same-day tickets and banning the ritual of the tossing of seat cushions by those disappointed with the outcome.

Match over, Trump walked onto the stage in dark slippers – shoes are banned from the ring – to present the cup.

The president praised Asanoyama's "outstanding achievement" and then hoisted the trophy, which the White House said was 137 centimetres tall, into Asanoyama's arms with assistance from an official. Asanoyama also received trophies from Abe and on behalf of the emperor.

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It was fitting entertainment for the businessman president who in past times helped promote the World Wrestling Federation back home. Trump sponsored major events, appeared in bits and was inducted into the World Wrestling Entertainment Hall of Fame in 2013.

He tweeted after the match that it was his "great honor to present the first- ever President's Cup."

Another honor awaited Trump on Monday when was set to become, at Abe's invitation, the first head of state to meet Japan's new emperor, Naruhito, who succeeded his father on May 1. Trump also was to be the guest of honor at a banquet hosted by the emperor at Japan's Imperial Palace.

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Beyond all the pageantry, Trump and Abe scheduled talks Monday and planned to hold a joint news conference. But Trump set measured expectations for what would be accomplished, tweeting that serious trade negotiations with the Japanese "will wait until after their July elections," referring to upcoming parliamentary elections.

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As for Sunday, Trump summed it up thus just before a hibachi dinner with Abe and their wives: "We've had a great time, a great day, and tomorrow is really the big event, a very important event in the history of Japan. It's over 200 years since something like this has happened so it's a great honor to be representing the United States."

Abe sought quickly after the 2016 US election to build a rapport with Trump, rushing to New York so the two could get acquainted before Trump took office. Japan relies on the U.S. for security and Abe has encouraged Trump to maintain international agreements and keep pressure on North Korea.

A mutual love of golf has helped the friendship flourish.

"We were able to exchange our views frankly in a cozy atmosphere. It was wonderful," Abe told reporters as he returned to his official residence after the golf game. He tweeted a selfie of him and Trump smiling widely on the greens.

Trump tweeted that he'd had "Great fun and meeting with Prime Minister AbeShinzo."

For all of the over-the-top camaraderie of the day, the two countries have serious differences to work through.

Trump has threatened Japan with tariffs on imports of autos and auto parts on national security grounds. He has suggested he will impose the levies if the U.S. can't win concessions from Japan and the European Union. Japan's trade surplus surged almost 18 per cent in April to 723 billion yen ($9.53 billion).

Trump is also playing down North Korea's recent series of short-range missile tests, which are of particular concern to neighboring Japan.

Even in the thick of a four-day state visit in which Trump is the center of attention in Japan, the president continued to stew about politics back home.

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He claimed in a tweet that "numerous" Japanese officials had told him that Democrats would rather see the US fail than see Trump or his Republican Party succeed.

Tradition holds that American presidents and political candidates avoid politicking while on foreign soil, but Trump frequently disregards such norms. He tweeted fresh digs about Democratic presidential rival Joe Biden, a former vice president.

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Prime Minister Scott Morrison has "committed to getting an outcome" on constitutional recognition of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples, paving the way for a national discussion on the best way to achieve it.

But he has given no timeframe on how long the process might take.

The freshly elected Mr Morrison told the Herald that "we need to work together across the aisle and across our communities to get an outcome that all Australians can get behind and we'll take as long as is needed to achieve that."

Labor had committed to a referendum in the current parliamentary term had it been elected.

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Mr Morrison said "my priorities for Indigenous Australians are to ensure Indigenous kids are in school and getting an education, that young Indigenous Australians are not taking their own lives and that there are real jobs for Indigenous Australians so they can plan for their future with confidence like any other Australian."

His comments coincide with his appointment of Western Australian MP Ken Wyatt as the country's first Indigenous cabinet minister, with the title of Minister for Indigenous Australians.

Senior Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander leaders gathering in far north Queensland this weekend called for a meeting with Mr Morrison "as soon as possible" to try to make progress on constitutional recognition.

They were marking the second anniversary of the solemnly-worded Uluru Statement from the Heart, which was adopted in May 2017 at an unprecedented summit of Indigenous leaders from around the country. It issued a plea for a "First Nations Voice [to be] enshrined in the constitution" to "empower our people and take a rightful place in our own country."

The communique of around 40 Indigenous leaders at the weekend welcomed the Liberal party's promise made during the election campaign of $7.3 million to develop a proposal to take to a referendum, and the budget allocation of $160 million to bring that referendum about.

But it said the way forward "must be informed by Aboriginal and Torres Strait Island people throughout Australia", saying the movement for recognition was "growing, and will continue to grow".

Mr Morrison’s predecessor Malcolm Turnbull dismissed the idea of the Voice saying it would amount to a third chamber of parliament.

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A Liberal party policy document released in the last days of the campaign said more work was needed on "what model we take to a referendum and what a Voice to parliament would be.” It talked broadly of “comprehensive co-design of models to improve local and regional decision making and options for constitutional recognition."

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Indigenous leaders are rapidly re-calibrating expectations after the shock election victory of the coalition.

On Sunday morning, many travelled to the historic Tree of Knowledge at Yarrabah, outside Cairns, a site closely associated with the launching of the successful 1967 referendum which gave Indigenous Australians the right to be counted in the census and allowed federal laws to be made for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders.

Monday marks the 52nd anniversary of that referendum – one of only 8 to be carried out of 44 referendum proposals ever put to the country.

The leaders' weekend communique said the country united in 1967 and "we can do it again … We invite all Australians to walk with us on this journey, thoughtfully and with purpose, and to support our voice being heard.”

A bipartisan parliamentary committee last December recommended that the Voice “should become a reality”, after a co-design process between government and First Nations peoples.

A range of industry and other organisations have also come out in support of the Uluru statement, including the Law Council of Australia, the AMA, the business council, ACOSS, major law firms, big miners BHP and Rio Tinto and – as of last week – 21 leaders of investment banks, super funds and accounting firms.

Some Indigenous leaders told the Herald on Sunday that Mr Morrison’s re-election might not slow the momentum for constitutional recognition.

Pat Turner, co-chair of a new joint council formed between Indigenous peak bodies and state and federal governments to re-design 'Closing the Gap' targets, said she had been impressed with the Prime Minister so far.

"This is a historic agreement that he reached with us [on 'closing the gap' between indigenous and non-indigenous well-being] and because of his superb leadership on it we are going to work closely with him" Ms Turner said. She added that constitutional recognition was a "complementary parallel process" and "it's important both get done."

Lawyer and human rights advocate Teela Reid, a Wiradjuri and Wailwan woman, told the Herald that the election result "does not really change much for blackfellas. We have always had this kind of experience with the left and the right. History has proven that change is not easy."

She said if anything, a re-election of a coalition government "motivates us more". But she said the Morrison government should get a referendum done "as soon as possible. Our old people don't have time, they deserve the question to be resolved in their lifetimes".

Many of those behind the Uluru statement want a referendum to embed the principle of a Voice first, with detailed design taking place after a successful vote. But some indigenous leaders, such as Tom Calma, co-chair of Reconciliation Australia, worry that a too-vague proposal will not command majority support.

A government source told the Herald, “The Prime Minister is intensely pragmatic. He will get a result on this. He just wants the right one.” A referendum without an agreed model risked getting "very Brexity" the source said, adding that a fixed timeframe could put pressure on a fragile process.

Labor's putative leader-elect Anthony Albanese told the Herald that "if there is one area where we can put aside partisanship and work together in the national interest, it must be to advance the agenda of the Uluru statement."

Mr Morrison said recognition must be achieved alongside "practical goals" which made Indigenous Australians "safe in their communities" and enjoying the same access to services as any other Australian.

Aptly named, Beauty Point is one of the loveliest spots in Mosman. But in one classroom at a local school, something ugly may have been unfolding.

Year 1 teacher at Beauty Point Public School Lisa Curvey is accused of repeatedly shoving her young students, pulling chairs out from beneath children and pulling and pushing students to get them in line, at times allegedly tapping them on the head to gain their attention.

Parents of the students are now awaiting the findings of a Department of Education investigation into the allegations.

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Mrs Curvey is also accused of pulling one child by his arm with enough force to lift him into the air in March last year, and pulling one little girl's shoe from her foot then throwing it across the room in April 2018.

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The accusations, which are currently being investigated by the Department of Education's Employee Performance and Conduct (EPAC) Directorate, are not limited to the physical.

It is also alleged that the married teacher of many years called her year 1 class "stupid" and "useless".

On other occasions, Mrs Curvey is accused of making "inappropriate" remarks about the six and seven-year-old boys in her class.

She is accused of making reference to their "packages" in August last year.

In October, during an excursion to the zoo, Mrs Curvey is alleged to have pushed a child backwards on his mouth, grabbed several other students by the wrist and stepped on another student's fingers.

Outraged parents at Beauty Point Public School told The Sun-Herald they made numerous complaints about Mrs Curvey to the school and its principal Janelle Warhurst throughout last year, beginning in May 2018.

The allegations were eventually referred to the Department of Education in October after multiple complaints from different parents.

"I was so angry it took them so long to do something about it," one parent said.

EPAC began to investigate the allegations in October. Eight months later EPAC has yet to make a finding.

Emails from the EPAC investigator sent to parents in March and seen by The Sun-Herald say that the investigation is in the "report writing phase" ahead of its submission to the decision-maker.

"The report will then be submitted to the decision-maker. Strategies have been implemented to manage any risk and are oversighted by the NSW Ombudsman," the email read.

Mrs Curvey remains a teacher at the school but was not allocated a class in 2019. She is understood to be covering shifts for other teachers and also working as a specialist maths teacher.

"I don't just want her away from my child. I want her away from all children," a parent at the school said of the decision to retain Mrs Curvey at the school.

Parents are equally angry at the treatment of the matter by the Department of Education, which some have branded "appalling".

"It's taken so long, and she's still at the school. The investigator won't tell us what is happening or even when a decision will be made. It's appalling," said another.

A spokesman for the Department of Education said the matter was under investigation and so it could not comment.

"When allegations of this nature are made, the department undertakes a risk assessment and determines whether or not it is appropriate for a teacher to remain at school," the spokesman said.

Mrs Curvey was contacted for comment.

Brad Fittler says the most unlikely of NSW halves combinations has to work after he paired Cody Walker and Nathan Cleary at No.6 and No.7 for the State of Origin series opener.

In terms of odd couples, they rate up there with the best.

Cleary has long been earmarked for superstardom, making his NRL debut as an 18-year-old in 2016. Walker turned out for the first time just a handful of weeks earlier, but by that time he was already 26. He won't hit the Origin arena until he's 29.

But as strange as their partnership seems, it also make sense.

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Cleary won't take a back seat like he did to James Maloney and and will be told to run the show. Walker has flourished alongside a steady halfback in Adam Reynolds for South Sydney at club level, who kicks rivals into submission before Walker and Cook run them into the ground.

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With Cleary by his side, Walker has the licence to play exactly as he does in the NRL.

On the unlikely combination, Blues coach Fittler said: "They’re going to have to [work together]. Naturally one plays a lot on the right and defends on the right and Cody defends on the left. I think that helps.

"Other than that they’re both really good footballers. You can tell they’re really passionate about football and they love the game. That’s the best start possible."

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Walker's story is well told, but might be worth telling again.

He is sitting in the corner of a dark room waiting to find out if an ultrasound is about to tell him his first child is a boy or girl. There's a lot at stake. If it's a girl as his partner Nellie predicts, the baby will be born in Queensland where they're living. If it's a boy he gets to be a New South Welshman.

When the results come in, Walker is fist pumping in the corner. He will have a boy. So two weeks before Kian is born, Walker sends Nellie across the Tweed and gets her to stay with his parents in Lismore to ensure the baby is born a Blue.

It says a lot about a Walker, the rugby league yo-yo whose journey spans almost the length of the eastern seaboard. Every time you thought he was finally down and out in pursuit of finally cracking it in the NRL, he's always found a way to rebound.

Doubtless, in the next 10 days there will be a few photos flying around of Walker wearing a maroon jersey. He played for the Queensland Residents while trying to make it in the Melbourne Storm system.

Putting aside his unconventional rugby league road, Walker is a damn good footballer.

Save for Luke Keary's concussion on Friday night which ruled him out of the State of Origin opener, Walker might have been the best player in the NRL this season not to be at Suncorp Stadium on June 5.

He provides exactly what Fittler was banking on with Keary, an off-the-cuff and instinctive playmaker who will complement a steady hand at No.7. Wayne Bennett described him as one of the most talented players he's ever coached – and he's only been working with him for a few months.

"We’d been speaking about Cody for a long time," Fittler said. "You would be blind if you didn’t see the form he’s in and what he can do at the moment.

"We’ve got a couple of days to work out how we’re going to play. I don’t really know Cody Walker and I’ve only seen him at the games to say hello to. I’m looking forward to getting to know him."

Talent only takes you so far in Origin. Regardless of his age and maturity, no one really knows how someone will handle rugby league's most relentless arena in front of 50,000 Queenslanders until they actually have to do it.

The partnership with Cleary in the halves is intriguing. You could have written your own ticket at the start of the season on the odds those two would be the Blues No.7 and No.6.

Fittler has. And he'll live or die by the call.

It was 50 years ago when R.J. Hawke, just-elected president of the Australian Council of Trade Unions, arrived as guest of honour and after-dinner speaker at the Victoria Police Criminal Investigation Branch’s annual dinner.

Unwisely, he fronted directly from a long lunch and was spectacularly drunk.

Even so, the Police Association secretary Bill Crowley (who would later rise to the rank of assistant  commissioner) introduced Hawke that Friday night as ‘‘The future prime minister of Australia.’’ Bob continued to drink during the meal until it was his turn to speak. After all, the only drinking school harder than union delegates is hardened detectives.

He rose unsteadily and started with a joke that was flatter than his unfinished beer. ‘‘CIB,’’ he started, ‘‘stands for Criminally Insane Bastards.’’

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Some detectives staged a walkout during the speech but returned later, swapping their indignation for port and cheese. The other speaker, Chief Commissioner Noel Wilby, was given a standing ovation.

One of those present was a hard-as-nails Stolen Motor Car detective by the name of Rod Shedden, who approached Hawke to tell him he was out of order. ‘‘He beat me with words,’’ says Rod, ‘‘and we ended up shaking hands''.

As was the way of detectives from that generation, the night continued to the Police Club at the back of the Russell Street Police Station.

‘‘He was lording it over everybody saying, ‘I’m R.J Hawke, president-elect of the ACTU,’ ’’ says Shedden. Multiple witness say Hawke started flirting with one of the female bar staff, eventually putting her on his knee.

‘‘I thought, ‘I’m sick and tired of this, bugger it’,’’ recalls Rod.

He went over to remind Hawke he was a guest in the Police Club and should pull his head in. Hawke, never short of a word, said as the police union owned the club and he was the head of the ACTU he was welcome at any time.

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Shedden, a big man with fists the size of ham hocks, invited the much smaller Hawke outside for a more robust discussion. ‘‘To his credit he followed me out,’’ says Rod, now 82.

‘‘He put his glasses in his top pocket and faced up and I went ‘bang’, knocking him arse over head. I was going to pick him up and give him a few rib ticklers to remind him to keep better manners but some of my mates grabbed me and said ‘Rod, no more’.’’

By this point the future prime minister had lost all interest in the barmaid, the fight and the whole evening. ‘‘I’d whacked him pretty hard in the head and he was unconscious.’’

When Crowley descended on the scene he went straight into cover-up mode, threw the still- dazed Hawke into a car and sped off, reversing into the wall of the Police Club in his haste to leave the scene of the crime.

On Monday, Shedden had to front his boss. ‘‘Rod, what have you done? Half the force wants you sacked and the other half want you promoted.’’

The twist is that a very laundered version of the story appeared in a small newspaper suggesting that following the speech there was a dispute at the Police Club and ‘‘tempers became frayed''.

An outraged Hawke sued, alleging the article implied he was ‘‘guilty of offensive behaviour in a public place and accordingly had broken the law’’.

Shedden was told that under no circumstances could he give evidence, as it would be taken as an admission of assault. ‘‘I was told if I open my mouth I’d be sacked and lose all my entitlements.’’

The case was settled out of court.

In 1988 Rod Shedden retired as a detective sergeant, refusing promotion, ‘‘because all I wanted to do was to catch crooks''. And Bob Hawke, as Crowley (who became a life member of the association) had predicted all those years earlier, became prime minister.

I first learned of the fracas and subsequent cover-up more than 40 years ago and confirmed it with Rod over more than one quiet glass of ale when no-one was invited outside (except into the beer garden). But he was disinclined to go on the record.

I rang him shortly after the May 16 death of Australia's third-longest serving and much loved prime minister. This time, mellowed with age, he said yes.

‘‘The poor old bastard’s gone now. Good luck to him.’’

New Delhi: Ed Dohring, a doctor from Arizona, had dreamed his whole life of reaching the top of Mount Everest. But when he summited a few days ago, he was shocked by what he saw.

Climbers were pushing and shoving to take selfies. The flat part of the summit, which he estimated at about the size of two table-tennis tables, was packed with 15 or 20 people. To get up there, he had to wait hours in a line, chest to chest, one puffy jacket after the next, on an icy, rocky ridge with a several-thousand metre drop.

He even had to step around the frozen body of a woman who had just died.

"It was scary," he said by telephone from Kathmandu, Nepal, where he was resting in a hotel room. "It was like a zoo."

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This has been one of the deadliest climbing seasons on Everest, with at least 10 deaths. And at least some seem to have been avoidable.

The problem hasn't been avalanches, blizzards or high winds. Veteran climbers and industry leaders blame having too many people on the mountain, in general, and too many inexperienced climbers, in particular.

Fly-by-night adventure companies are taking up untrained climbers who pose a risk to everyone on the mountain. And the Nepalese government, hungry for every climbing dollar it can get, has issued more permits than Everest can safely handle, some experienced mountaineers say.

Add to that Everest's inimitable appeal to a growing body of thrill-seekers the world over. And the fact that Nepal, one of Asia's poorest nations and the site of most Everest climbs, has a long record of shoddy regulations, mismanagement and corruption.

The result is a crowded, unruly scene reminiscent of "Lord of the Flies"— at 8800 metres. At that altitude, a delay of even an hour or two can mean life or death.

To reach the summit, climbers shed every pound of gear they can and take with them just enough canisters of compressed oxygen to make it to the top and back down. It is hard to think straight at that altitude, climbers say.

According to Sherpas and climbers, some of the deaths this year were caused by people getting held up in the long lines on the last 300 metres or so of the climb, unable to get up and down fast enough to replenish their oxygen supply. Others were simply not fit enough to be on the mountain in the first place.

Some climbers did not even know how to put on a pair of crampons, clip-on spikes that increase traction on ice, Sherpas said.

Nepal has no strict rules about who can climb Everest, and veteran climbers say that is a recipe for disaster.

"You have to qualify to do the Iron Man. You have to qualify to run the New York marathon,'' said Alan Arnette, a prominent Everest chronicler and climber. "But you don't have to qualify to climb the highest mountain in the world? What's wrong with this picture?"

The last time 10 or more people died on Everest was in 2015, during an avalanche.

By some measures, the Everest machine has only gotten more out of control.

Last year, veteran climbers, insurance companies and news organisations exposed a far-reaching conspiracy by guides, helicopter companies and hospitals to bilk millions of dollars from insurance companies by evacuating trekkers with minor signs of altitude sickness.

Climbers complain of theft and heaps of trash on the mountain. And earlier this year, government investigators uncovered vast problems with the lifesaving oxygen systems used by many climbers. Climbers said cylinders were found to be leaking, exploding or being improperly filled on a black market.

But despite complaints about safety lapses, this year the Nepali government issued a record number of permits, 381, as part of a bigger push to commercialise the mountain. Climbers say the permit numbers have been going up steadily each year and that this year the traffic jams were heavier than ever.

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"This is not going to improve," said Lukas Furtenbach, a guide who recently relocated his climbers to the Chinese side of Everest because of the overcrowding in Nepal and the surge of inexperienced climbers.

"There's a lot of corruption in the Nepali government," he said. "They take whatever they can get."

Nepali officials denied any wrongdoing and said the trekking companies were the ones responsible for safety on the mountain.

Danduraj Ghimire, the director-general of Nepal's department of tourism, said in an interview on Sunday that the large number of deaths this year was not related to crowds, but because there were fewer good weather days for climbers to safely summit. He said the government was not inclined to change the number of permits.

"If you really want to limit the number of climbers," Ghimire said, "let's just end all expeditions on our holy mountain."

To be sure, the race to the top is driven by the weather. May is the best time of the year to summit, but even then there are only a few days when it is clear enough and the winds are mild enough to make an attempt at the top.

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But one of the critical problems this year, veterans say, seems to be the sheer number of people trying to reach the summit at the same time. And since there is no government traffic cop high on the mountain, the task of deciding when groups get to attempt their final ascent is left up to mountaineering companies.

Climbers themselves, experienced or not, are often so driven to finish their quest that they may keep going even if they see the dangers escalating.

A few decades ago, the people climbing Everest were largely experienced mountaineers willing to pay a lot of money. But in recent years, longtime climbers say, lower-cost operators working out of small storefronts in Kathmandu, the capital, and even more expensive foreign companies that do not emphasise safety have entered the market and offered to take just about anyone to the top.

Sometimes these trips go very wrong.

From interviews with several climbers, it seems that as the groups get closer to the summit, the pressures increase and some people lose their sense of decency.

Fatima Deryan, an experienced Lebanese mountaineer, was making her way to the summit recently when less experienced climbers started collapsing in front of her. Temperatures were dropping to -30. Oxygen tanks were running low. And roughly 150 people were packed together, clipped to the same safety line.

"A lot of people were panicking, worrying about themselves — and nobody thinks about those who are collapsing," Deryan said.

"It is a question of ethics," she said. "We are all on oxygen. You figure out that if you help, you are going to die.''

She offered to help some of the sick people, she said, but then kept going and made it to the summit, which is currently measured at 8848 metres. On the way back down, she had to fight her way again through the crowds.

"It was terrible," she said.

Around the same time, Rizza Alee, an 18-year-old climber from Kashmir, a disputed territory between India and Pakistan, was making his way up the mountain. He said he was stunned by how little empathy people had for those were struggling.

"I saw some people like they had no emotions,'' he said. "I asked people for water and no one gave me any. People are really obsessed with the summit. They are ready to kill themselves for the summit.''

But Alee himself took some chances; he has a heart condition and says he "kind of lied" to his expedition company when they asked if he had any health issues.

Dohring, the American doctor, represents the other end of the spectrum.

At 62, he has climbed peaks all over the world. He read about explorers as a boy and said he had always wanted to get to the "one spot where you can stand higher than any place else on earth''.

To prepare for Everest, he slept at home in a tent that simulated high-altitude conditions. His total Everest experience cost $100,000.

Still, there was only so much he could prepare for. Last month, when he hiked into base camp at Everest at an altitude of 5380 metres, Dohring said he was overcome with awe.

"You look at a circle of mountain peaks above you and think, 'What am I doing here?''' he said.

He pressed on. After long, cold days, he inched up a spiny trail to the summit early on Thursday and ran into crowds "aggressively jostling for pictures".

He was so scared, he said, that he plunked down on the snow to keep from losing his balance and had his guide take a picture of him holding up a small sign that said, "Hi Mom Love You.''

On the way down, he passed two more dead bodies in their tents.

"I was not prepared to see sick climbers being dragged down by the mountain by Sherpas or the surreal experience of finding dead bodies," he said.

But on Sunday, he had made it out. He boarded a helicopter after reaching Base Camp and flew back to Kathmandu.

He counted his blisters at the Yak and Yeti Hotel where he said he treated himself to a thick steak and cracked open a cold beer. "Everest Lager, of course," he said.

The New York Times