These are fair questions that have no doubt been asked along the South Coast lately. I'll try to answer them, but first I just want to say none of it was my idea - particularly not the giant photo byline.

For the past 18 months I've been writing a column for the Illawarra Mercury. The editor had approached me after reading a Facebook post I wrote that poked poop at Clive Palmer.

My family had just moved to the beautiful South Coast after I'd been made redundant from my job in Sydney and - at home as Mr Mum to two little girls - I jumped at the chance. I'd never written an opinion column before in my life, mind you.     

Fast-forward to three weeks ago when Fairfax Media - owners of the quality publication you're currently reading - decided to syndicate the column in their newspapers from Wollongong to Batemans Bay.

Judging by some of the feedback, a few of you have been bewildered by the sudden arrival of the tosser in the beanie. Others are downright annoyed. I don't blame you.

While I'm very grateful for the gig, having my name and face plastered up and down the coast every week is something of a cringe for me too.

As a classic Cancerian I'm deeply self-conscious, usually until beer No. 4, and have always treasured my relative anonymity.

But here I am, gawking out of the page at you and you’re looking at me shaking your head. I guess we'll just have to try to get used to it. 

OK, so that's why  I’m in your newspaper. Now to the "who is Craig Henderson?" part.

Outside of my friends and family, like most people I'm pretty much nobody.

I've loved the written word since I could read Dr Seuss and as the son of a press photographer who’d return to our home in Sydney every night with tales of adventure, I figured I should be a journalist when I grew up. Years later I'd learn that few journalists grow up.

When I finished high school I was lucky enough to score a job as a copyboy at Rupert Murdoch's News Ltd. 

I'd normally say my career in media began with a cadetship on Murdoch's now-defunct Sydney Daily Mirror in 1987.

But the truth is I worked for the press baron much earlier than that; as a paperboy I delivered his Manly Daily in 1980 ... most of the time.

Although diligent for the first couple of months I started struggling on Saturdays when the paper was as thick as a bastard.

Not only were they impossible to fold and slide into letterboxes, I could only carry 20 at a time so it took me three hours to finish the round.

I resorted to draping the Saturday papers on top of letter boxes. Then I just chucked them on people’s driveways.

I soon decided even that was too much effort so I started dumping half of the papers into the local creek before heading home for a hard-earned bowl of Coco Pops, confident my environmental vandalism and newspaper circulation scam would go undetected.

As an idiot kid it never occurred to me that people actually love and rely on their newspapers - and they miss them when they're not delivered! And they phone up to ask why! And the paper sends a circulation manager to investigate! And moronic kids get busted. 

And so it was; a week later I was sacked from my first job in the media at the age of 12. Mum kicked my arse.

Years later as a journalist I developed a great reverence for newspapers.

I remain in awe of the effort, passion, talent, intestinal fortitude, raw emotion and tireless dedication that goes into producing every edition.

This thing you’re holding is truly something of a miracle.

It is newspapers that do the heavy lifting for the wider media.

Newspapers spend months investigating stories; they provide in-depth reporting on each day’s events and offer deeper analysis and commentary across a broad sweep of subjects.

Morning TV and breakfast radio would be screwed if it weren't for yarns they lift from newspapers.

As for my role in this paper juggernaut, I spent the best part of 30 years as a hard news/court reporter.

I covered some of the country's grimmest crimes from the backpacker serial murders to the Port Arthur massacre.

I was present at many of the worst disasters in our recent history: Victoria’s Black Saturday bushfires, the Thredbo landslide, the Bali bombings and the 2010-11 Queensland flood disaster.

I've interviewed thousands of people from premiers to prisoners, CEOs to derros.

My last job was associate editor of a glossy women's fashion magazine, so I've also rubbed up against a bit of glitz along the way, too.

But that was a while ago now and none of it makes me special; there's plenty of heavier hitters than me around.

So when people ask me about my job these days I tell them I'm a stay-at-home-dad ... and now and then I'll say I write a newspaper column, too.

Although relatively new to it, I've quickly learned opinion writing is a double edged sword.

For every smarty-pants rant I fire off, there are 100 people waiting to point out what a clown I am. And they are right to do so. Hell, I do it myself (eh, Andrew Bolt?)

I put some noses out of joint a week or so back by railing against the noise output of Harley-Davidsons. Cue outrage from hog fans!

But one reader was so miffed he vowed to stop buying the newspaper so "the columnist will lose his job." (It wouldn't be the first time mate).

Say what you like about me - particularly now that you know me a bit better - but I implore all of you who love newspapers to keep buying and reading them.

  Without newspapers we'd be up the creek ... with the soggy pulp of 1000 wasted copies of the Manly Daily.