Kyle and Jackie O’s demise is proof that Melbourne is culturally superior to Sydney

Look, Sydney, I love you. Hands down, the most iconic city in the world. That harbour. The Opera House. The coat hanger bridge. The ocean pools, the sandstone buildings, the history. The Manly ferry cutting its way to Circular Quay. Showstopping, every bit of it.

So much so that I’m always banging on to my husband about whether we could move there for a year. In my magazine days I worked in Sydney a lot and fell hard for its zippy energy.

Tons of people I adore and want to see more of are there. And tucked away in one beachside street is a rehab centre that saved my husband’s life and our marriage. Our version of a sacred place. Sydney holds all of that for me.

But. Sydney, culturally? Not great. Not nearly as fabulous as you think you are, and nowhere near as fabulous as Melbourne.

Yeah, yeah, I know – we’ve gone on about the better food, fashion and footy for so long even we’re a bit bored. But this week something more fundamental has been established.

It’s not just better coffee and laneways that separate us. It’s taste.

Something you can’t buy, not even for $200 million.

And the spectacular proof is the implosion of the Kyle and Jackie O Show. We pulled the thread that unravelled the whole thing. Hear ye, the rest of Australia: we’ve saved you from an overpriced, outmoded mediocre double act that had somehow convinced tons of non-Victorians it was must-hear stuff.

Here’s what I reckon happened.

The Kyle and Jackie O phenomenon thrived on attention and relied on a formula. Be rude, crude, humiliate someone, obsess about sex, take cheap shots at vulnerable people, repeat. Melbourne looked at it and said, “Nah, we’re good.”

Bottom line: it’s hard to shock an audience that’s quietly wandered off to finish a Frida Kahlo jigsaw.

That lack of attention on a duo which craved it must have been crushing for their partnership and the whole juggernaut. Enough to see Sandilands crack, and crack it on air at Jackie O’s work ethic and, um, reliance on horoscopes.

Did she see it in the stars that the showdown was coming? Regardless, she quit, he was suspended, ARN is in damage control deciding what happens next. And at the beginning of that chain of events: Melbourne.

Sydney radio’s always had a faint circus streak: big stunts, big egos, big controversies. Melbourne audiences are harder to impress. Not humourless – god, not humourless – but we know loud isn’t the same as good. Provocative isn’t the same as interesting.

And if there’s one thing we hate, it’s being told what we’re supposed to like.

So, sucked in Kyle and Jackie O.

Now, before Melbourne’s victory lap around the Tan, a word about Jackie O.

I’m not buying her as the hero who finally called out King Kyle. For decades, she was not a bystander. Not his hostage. She was a willing co-architect of a show that made its money through goading and humiliating. She laughed. She egged. She cashed the cheques.

And she didn’t use her considerable platform to say: this has gone too far.

She was fine with all of it. Right up until Kyle turned it on her. Sure, what Kyle did to her was shithouse. What Jackie O did in response was understandable. But self-preservation and integrity are not the same thing.

My bet for her next move? She’ll do mag cover interviews about her escape from the hell that was earning her squillions for enabling a vulgarian. Probably get her own show. Maybe end up being Marie Claire’s Woman of the Year. What a feminist crusader.

Cultural superiority isn’t about being precious. It’s about knowing what you will and won’t tolerate. It’s about having an instinct for when something is genuinely good versus when something is just flashy and dumb and has been on for a long time.

Melbourne’s always had that instinct. And collectively, by tuning out, we used it to end a grubby empire.

You’re welcome, Australia. Someone had to do it.

Kate Halfpenny is the founder of Bad Mother Media.

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