Mr SHORTEN (Maribyrnong—Leader of the Opposition) (14:07): I thank the Prime Minister for his tribute just then and his words at today's memorial service down the hill in the Old Parliament House. It was a mourning worthy of the man—full of warmth, humour, love of family and pride in his Jewish faith. It was a celebration of a life dedicated to others, spent in the service of Labor values. Barry Cohen leaves a legacy of extraordinary public service, particularly as Minister for Arts, Heritage and the Environment, where his passion helped secure the future of south-west Tasmania, Uluru, Kakadu and the Great Barrier Reef for future generations. But, thanks to his prodigious output as a columnist and author, Barry will always live on as one of Australia's finest chroniclers of a politician's daily mini-disasters—the high wit and the low farce of this place, the world stage and the campaign trail. He had a brilliant eye for the humour which makes politics human. Barry's Gough Whitlam impersonation was always in high demand on the branch meeting circuit, a talent only exceeded by his knack for self-deprecation. Barry loved retelling an anecdote, so I'm sure he wouldn't be offended if I repeat a story from this morning. He was always extremely proud of his background in menswear and the insights he gained from owning and running a small business. Back when he started his first menswear shop, in Gordon in 1959, a friend suggested that he visit another shop on the Pacific Highway that specialised in artistic bric-a-brac, to add some character to the interior of his own shop. It just so happened that Barry had known the shop owners for a long time. In his view, they were a respectable middle-class family, but their 18-year-old son, Brett, was a five-star nutter. Anyway, Barry bought a few different pieces, and on his way out the owner asked if he'd be interested in purchasing some of his son's paintings. He pointed to five that were hanging in the shop, 15 quid each, or all five for 60 pounds. Barry said: 'I don't know much about art; I wasn't about to be conned by an old codger trying to sell his son's paintings.' So he simply replied: 'It's kind of you to offer but no, thank you, Mr Whiteley.' No wonder Bob appointed him Minister for the Arts! Mr Speaker, very soon question time will resume for 2018; with it, all the familiar colour and movement, the sound and the fury and the outrage. But for this moment, as we remember Barry Cohen, let us also remember a truth that he knew: this parliament can also be a place for the increasingly lost art of humour, warmth and friendship across party lines. Because, for all the daily skirmishes of politics lost and won, we're only just passing through, and what matters is not the duration of our service or how high we rise in the ranks; it's what we do here for our communities. It's the contribution we leave behind for future generations. Barry knew that. It's why, for him, Alzheimer's wasn't a personal grievance; it was a policy challenge: his last great campaign on behalf of people at the margins. Barry Cohen's legacy—standing up for the equal treatment of our First Australians, championing Australian culture, protecting our natural heritage and the conservation of our national landmarks, and demanding a better deal for older Australians—will live long after him and us. We honour his service. We offer our love and thanks to his wife, Rae, and his boys—the family he adored. May he rest in peace. The SPEAKER: As a mark of respect, I ask all present to signify their approval by rising in their places. Honourable members having stood in their places— The SPEAKER: I thank the House. Debate adjourned.