The Death of the Larrikin: Why Marty Sheargold’s Cancellation is a Gen X Wake-Up Call
Put together by Spiros Kotsialos, December 10, 2025
If you grew up drinking from the garden hose, surviving playground equipment made of pure tetanus, and watching The D-Generation, you probably felt a disturbance in the force back in February. That was the moment the fun police finally handcuffed the last true larrikin on Australian radio.
The firing of Marty Sheargold from Triple M wasn’t just a staffing change; it was a dry humour. Understated. Self-deprecating. And above all, equalizing. For Generation X, a demographic raised on skepticism and "sticks and stones," the defenestration of Sheargold is the ultimate proof that the world has lost its sense of humor, or at least, its ability to distinguish between a bad joke and a war crime.
The "Crime" of the Century
Let’s look at the "heinous" act that cost Marty his job. In early 2025, he made a crack about the Matildas—our national sacred cows—comparing them to "Year 10 girls" and hyperbolically suggesting he’d rather "hammer a nail" through a sensitive part of his anatomy than watch them play.
Was it crude? Yes. Was it classic, unfiltered pub banter? Absolutely. But in the modern era, criticizing the Matildas is treated with the severity of blasphemy in a theocracy. The Australian Communications and Media Authority (ACMA) didn’t just slap his wrist; they treated a joke about boring soccer as a threat to the "wellbeing of people."
For Gen X, this is baffling. We are the generation that watched The Late Show rip into everyone from politicians to nuns. We understand context. We understand that a comedian saying something outrageous on a drive-time show is performance, not a policy statement. Yet, we are now governed by a corporate "decency" standard that prioritizes "brand safety" over the very Australian trait of taking the mickey.
The Sandilands Paradox: Why It Stings
The most bitter pill for any Gen X cynic to swallow is the glaring hypocrisy of it all. If "offensive speech" was really the issue, Kyle Sandilands would have been fired before the Sydney Olympics.
Sandilands has asked a teenager about her sexual history, called a journalist a "fat slag," and threatened to hunt people down. His reward? A $200 million contract extension. Marty Sheargold makes a joke about a sports team and gets walked out the door.
The difference isn't morality; it's money. Sandilands has an "Iron Dome" of revenue protecting him because he dominates the Sydney ratings. Marty was successful—delivering his best Melbourne ratings since 2016—but he wasn't "too big to fail." This is the corporate cynicism that Gen X has always despised: you can be as nasty as you want, as long as you make the shareholders rich. But if you’re just a mid-tier legend making people laugh on the drive home? You’re expendable.
The "Hall Monitor" Culture
The backlash against Sheargold involved everyone from the Prime Minister to the Australian Sports Commission. When Anthony Albanese is taking time out of running the country to condemn a radio segment, you know the "Hall Monitors" have taken over the asylum.
This intervention of state power into comedy is what chills the Gen X soul. We survived the Satanic Panic and the PMRC censorship wars of the 80s, only to land in a 2025 where a joke about endometriosis (which, admittedly, was ill-advised) is treated as a federal offense rather than a clumsy attempt at humour.
The tragedy is that Triple M was built for this. It was the "Cathedral of the Bloke," a safe space for the kind of rough-around-the-edges humor that defines the Australian male friendship group. By firing Sheargold, the network didn't just lose a host; they broke a covenant with their audience. They chose the advertisers over the listeners.
The Last Laugh
The good news? You can’t cancel a comedian who has a microphone and a stage. Marty has pivoted back to where he belongs: stand-up. His "Come See Me Live" tour is currently selling the one thing you can't get on the radio anymore: unfiltered authenticity.
Gen X, if you’re tired of sanitized, HR-approved corporate content, buy a ticket. The radio waves have been scrubbed clean, but the larrikin spirit is still alive—you just have to go to a comedy club to find it.
Marty Sheargold wasn't fired because he was "dangerous." He was fired because he was real. And in 2025, that’s the most dangerous thing you can be.