Ned Kelly is like Uluru. You can’t get past him. He stands in our national dreaming in gloriously inviolate isolation. The closer you get to him, the harder it is to separate myth from reality. Ned is an iconic landmark on our national roadmap; dead centre in our historical consciousness, reckoning left from right and high from low.

Controversy still rages as to whether he was a hero or a villain, a principled victim of oppression or a paranoid rebel with a criminal cause. Some have nailed their colours to the mast in spectacular fashion. Ben Cousins, ‘Such is life’ tattoo emblazoned across his taut abdomen, makes no bones that he is a wild boy with wicked ways and a healthy persecution complex. As the Iron Outlaw website (which gets 8.5 million hits a year and has pages such as NedTube, Ned in the News and Ned on Wheels) appraises the situation, ‘it’s doubtful whether the debate will ever end. Such is the emotional impact of the Kelly story.’ If Ned had not existed no-one would have dared to invent him.