Old age is a wonderful thing, as our sports-mad prime minister, Wayne Bennett and Kevin Sheedy are all finding out.

It gives you the licence to say anything that comes to your mind – that is, if you still have one – and people are not sure what to make of it. Is it senility setting in or wisdom for the fossil ages?

While Honest-to-God John squinted myopically last week as his beloved Gasnier-less St George stumbled along, not unlike his re-election chances, Sheeds is waiting for someone to turn him into a statue and put him in the AFL hall of fame.

The Essendon board, after 27 years, thought its chances were already stuffed with a possibly incontinent Kev hanging about like a bad smell, so the knackery knife struck.

As for Wayne, he’s not about to go to the old coach’s retirement funny farm in that glum silence he used to adopt. Of late, he’s been kicking and screaming about grapples, too much footy and whiz kids play-acting.

Terry Hill, Garry Jack and Brett Kenny formed a conga line to bag Benny for suggesting Parramatta player Jarryd Haynes should take acting lessons. They were singing the Benny Blues – or the Wayne Whinge.

It goes something along the lines of Jolene, as first wailed by Dolly Parton in 1974, and, so I’m told, covered more recently by The White Stripes:

“Vent my spleen, my spleen, my spleen, my spleen, I’m bagging who I please … just because I can.

"Vent my spleen, my spleen, my spleen, my spleen, jeez he needs a baking, Jarryd Ham that was faking, you little sham.

"Well, your big dive was just not fair, what flaming cheek you mug lair.

"With hide as thick as I’ve seen, you wound me up like a coiled spring.

"With your line wide open, you cried in pain and stopped the game, and all I want is for you to come clean.

"So I just taunt you, you little lousy creep, all this huffing I ain’t denying.

"If anyone dives for sure I’ll make a scene, and continue to tip from a crappy can.

"Now that I’ve perfected the perfect shame plan, gutter sniping works for me in another shaky season.

"Vent my spleen, my spleen, my spleen, my spleen, that’s gone gangrene, and I’m bagging any damn scam because I can.

"Vent my spleen, my spleen, my spleen, my spleen, please don’t bake me just because I flim the flam.

"We all know I’ve been grumpy since Locky’s knee went on him and Justin and Special K have done their hamstring. In the backs that just leaves me to chime right in.

"Hell, no wonder I sulk the way I do, my snappiness all comes from a bad Eel stew, and the way that makes me chew, over the all the injustices that I construe from you.

"So come clean, or I’ll ... vent my spleen, my spleen, my spleen, my spleen, I’m hyper-venting now so take cover from another pan.

"Vent my spleen, my spleen, my spleen, my spleen, (wheeze) ... I’ll bait anyone who overplays their hand.

"Vent my spleen, my spleen, my spleen, my spleen, I’m bagging and berating unless I get two points on demand.

"Vent my spleen, my spleen, my spleen, my spleen, jeez it's the only way to get the upper hand.

"So if you want me to go back to being bland, be a man, Jarryd, and stick up your hand.”