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Australian trade mark law has taken a notable turn in its treatment of profanity.

In a recent decision of a delegate of the Registrar of Trade Marks — Renthat Pty Ltd Trade Mark Application (UNFVCK YOURSELF) — IP Australia held that the mark UNFVCK YOURSELF is not “scandalous” within the meaning of s 42(a) of the Trade Marks Act 1995 (Cth) when used in relation to adult-focused goods and services. 

The decision marks a significant development in the interpretation of the long-standing prohibition on scandalous trade marks.

The mark

The applicant, Renthat Pty Ltd, applied to register a figurative mark incorporating the phrase UNFVCK YOURSELF for goods and services including:

  • vitamin and nutritional supplements

  • clothing and merchandise

  • retail and marketing services

An examiner objected under s 42(a), arguing the mark effectively reproduced the word “unfuck yourself”, which the examiner thought would likely offend a section of the community.

Despite three rounds of submissions, the objection was maintained and the matter proceeded to an ex parte hearing under s 33.

Counsel Melissa McGrath, instructed by Scott Coulthart of Mills Oakley, appeared for the applicant.

The legal issue: what counts as “scandalous”?

Section 42(a) requires rejection of trade marks that contain “scandalous matter”.  However, the Act does not define “scandalous”.

The delegate confirmed the accepted test, which is that the mark in question must cause “a significant degree of disgrace, shock or outrage” to an appreciable section of the public — something more than mere offence or bad taste.

That threshold has always left room for debate.

The key question was therefore whether the word “fuck” still meets that threshold in modern Australian society.

Language evolves — and so does trade mark law

The applicant relied heavily on linguistic evidence from Associate Professor Nick Wilson, who explained that:

  • the word “fuck” has become commonplace in everyday Australian speech

  • contemporary audiences are far less shocked by its use than in previous decades

  • swear words used non-abusively often function as expressions of solidarity or emphasis

Research cited in the decision (and in Associate Professor Wilson’s report) suggested the word rated only 1.7 out of 7 in perceived offensiveness among Australian university students — well below racial or gender slurs.

The delegate agreed that Australian language norms have shifted.  She concluded that most adult consumers would not experience a significant degree of shock or outrage when encountering the word in a commercial context.

But children changed the analysis

The examiner’s objection did not fail entirely.

The delegate identified one problem: the specification included “vitamins for children”, and parents of young children might reasonably object to encountering coarse language when buying products for children.

That context could make the mark “shocking” in that particular commercial setting.

The solution was elegant.  The delegate offered the applicant the opportunity to amend the specification to adult-only goods and services, including:

  • vitamin supplements for adults

  • clothing for adults

  • retail services targeting adults

Once those amendments were made, the objection under s 42(a) fell away, and the mark was accepted for registration.

Why the decision matters

This decision is significant for several reasons.

1. It raises the practical threshold for “scandalous”

The delegate effectively confirmed that coarse language alone is not enough.

A mark must cause genuine shock or outrage, not merely offend sensibilities.

2. Context matters more than ever

The decision emphasises the importance of context, including:

  • the nature of the goods and services

  • the target market

  • where consumers encounter the mark

The same word may be acceptable in one context and unacceptable in another.

3. Specifications can solve morality objections

The decision shows that specification amendments can resolve objections.

Limiting goods and services to adult audiences may allow marks containing strong language to proceed.

4. Examiner practice may need to change

Historically, IP Australia examiners have been cautious with profanity-based marks.

This decision signals that automatic objections based solely on swear words may no longer be sustainable.

Applicants may now feel more confident pushing such objections to hearing.

The broader trend

The decision also reflects a broader international trend.

In recent years:

  • the US Supreme Court struck down prohibitions on “immoral” and “scandalous” marks

  • courts have increasingly recognised that language evolves

Australian law still retains the statutory prohibition, but Renthat shows that its application is becoming significantly narrower.

Final thoughts

Trade mark law does not exist in a cultural vacuum.  As language changes, so too must the legal standards applied to it.

This decision may not entirely unf*ck trade mark law, but it certainly nudges the register a little closer to reflecting the way Australians actually speak.

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Firework Fizzles (For Now): The High Court Re-stitches the Katy Perry Trade Mark Battle

The long-running trade mark dispute between Australian designer Katie Taylor (born Katie Perry) and global pop star Katy Perry (Katheryn Hudson) has now reached the High Court of Australia — and the result is a dramatic twist.

In Taylor v Killer Queen LLC [2026] HCA 5, the High Court has allowed Taylor’s appeal, setting aside the Full Federal Court’s decision that had ordered cancellation of her “KATIE PERRY” clothing trade mark.

The matter now returns to the Full Court to determine the remaining issues — meaning the fight isn’t quite over yet.

But the High Court’s reasoning significantly reshapes how courts should approach reputation-based cancellation and trade mark confusion involving celebrities.

Let’s unpack it.

🎤 The Background: Pop Star vs Fashion Label

This dispute has been simmering for more than 15 years.

In 2007–2008:

  • Australian designer Katie Taylor launches a clothing brand using her birth name KATIE PERRY.

  • She applies to register the word mark for clothing in September 2008.

Meanwhile:

  • US singer Katy Perry is exploding globally with hits like I Kissed a Girl.

  • Her fame reaches Australia during the same period.

The problem?  The names are aurally identical and visually very close.

Taylor’s mark was eventually registered in 2009, and for years the two brands co-existed uneasily.

Then in 2019, the singer’s companies launched proceedings seeking to cancel the registration.

⚖️ What Happened in the Courts

The litigation has already taken several turns.

Federal Court (trial)

The trial judge:

  • found infringement by Perry-related merchandise sellers; but

  • refused to cancel Taylor’s trade mark.

The key finding was that, although the singer had a reputation in Australia in music and entertainment, she did not have a reputation in clothing at the priority date.

Full Federal Court

On appeal, the Full Court reversed that result, holding that:

  • Katy Perry’s reputation as a global pop star was sufficient;

  • consumers would expect pop stars to sell merchandise like clothing; and

  • the marks were so similar that confusion was likely.

Result: Taylor’s trade mark was ordered cancelled.

👑 The High Court Decision

The High Court has now allowed Taylor’s appeal and set aside that cancellation order.

The Court split in its reasoning, but the majority rejected key aspects of the Full Court’s approach.

The case has been remitted to the Full Federal Court to reconsider outstanding issues.

In practical terms, Taylor’s trade mark survives — at least for now.

The appeal centred on three important provisions of the Trade Marks Act 1995 (Cth):

  • s 60 — opposition based on reputation

  • s 88(2)(a) — cancellation based on grounds that could have opposed registration

  • s 88(2)(c) — cancellation where current use would cause confusion

  • s 89 — discretion not to cancel

The decision digs deeply into how reputation and confusion should actually be assessed.

1️⃣ Reputation Must Be Carefully Identified

The Court confirmed that s 60 requires reputation in a trade mark, not merely general fame.

“Reputation” in this context means recognition of the mark by the public, reflecting its “credit, image and values”. 

The crucial question, though,  is “Reputation for what?”.

In this case, the singer’s mark clearly had reputation in music and entertainment, but there was debate about whether that reputation extended to clothing.

The High Court emphasised that reputation does not automatically spill across industries simply because celebrities often expand their brands.

2️⃣ Confusion Must Arise Because of the Reputation

Another key point was that the likelihood of deception must arise because of the prior mark’s reputation, not merely because the marks look similar.

In other words, similarity alone is not enough — the reputation must drive the confusion.

The Court reiterated the classic test – would a reasonable number of people wonder if a trade connection exists?

This inquiry is assessed by comparing actual reputation of the earlier mark with notional normal and fair use of the challenged mark.

3️⃣ Notional Use Still Matters

A key trade mark principle resurfaced strongly, namely that courts assess how the registered mark could be used, not just how it actually has been used.

That means asking what legitimate uses could the trade mark owner make of the mark?

This concept of “notional normal and fair use” has long been part of Australian trade mark law, but the High Court’s analysis reinforces its importance.

4️⃣ Section 89 Discretion Remains Narrow

Another major issue was the discretion not to cancel a mark under s 89.

The Full Court had effectively ruled that Taylor’s act of applying for the trade mark — knowing of the singer’s fame — was enough to defeat that discretion.

The High Court’s reasoning suggests that approach may have been too rigid, holding instead that the question is whether the ground for cancellation arose through the registered owner’s “act or fault”.

That issue will now be reconsidered when the case returns to the Full Court.

🧵 Why This Case Matters

This decision will have ripple effects far beyond celebrity disputes.

It highlights several key principles:

  • Fame ≠ automatic trade mark dominance – A celebrity’s reputation does not automatically block registrations in unrelated markets.
  • Reputation must be analysed carefully – Courts must identify what goods or services the reputation actually relates to.
  • Confusion must flow from reputation – Section 60 is not simply a deceptive similarity test.
  • Cancellation powers are not automatic – Even where confusion might arise, discretionary factors still matter.

🎬 Final Stitch

At one level, this case is a quirky battle between two women with nearly identical names.

At another, it raises profound questions about how trade mark law treats celebrity brands.

Should global fame give artists a shadow monopoly across merchandising categories?

Or should trade mark rights remain tied to actual commercial use and reputation?

The High Court hasn’t ended the fight — but it has reshaped the legal framework in which it will be decided.

For now, at least, Katie Perry the designer still has her label.

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🏇 When the Race Stops a Nation — Who Owns the Moment?

IP and brand lessons from Melbourne Cup Day

Every year on the first Tuesday in November, Australia stops for a horse race — and an extraordinary showcase of intellectual property.

Behind the glamour of Flemington, the fascinators and the flutter, lies a multi-layered web of IP rights: trade marks, designs, broadcast rights, sponsorships, licensing deals, and image rights that turn the Cup into one of the country’s most valuable event brands.

1. The Cup as a brand

The Victoria Racing Club (VRC) owns an extensive portfolio of trade marks covering “Melbourne Cup”, “The Race That Stops a Nation”, and the stylised gold trophy design. Those marks underpin everything from official merchandise to broadcast and hospitality rights.

For the VRC, it’s not just a horse race — it’s a global brand, protected by careful registration, licensing and enforcement. The lesson for other major events? File early, file broad, and police consistently.

2. Who owns the horse’s name?

When a horse becomes famous — Think Winx, Black Caviar, Makybe Diva — the name itself becomes valuable IP. Owners often move quickly to register trade marks covering racing merchandise, breeding rights, and promotional uses.

But racehorse naming rules also complicate matters: under Racing Australia’s rules, a horse’s name is licensed rather than owned, and certain names (of champions, or those with cultural significance) are permanently retired. That means an owner’s branding ambitions must navigate both trade mark law and the racing registrar’s strictures.

3. Passing off and false endorsement

Every Cup season brings a flurry of betting apps, sweep generators, and corporate promotions trying to ride the coattails of the “Cup” brand. Some risk drifting into misleading or infringing territory — using “Melbourne Cup” or the trophy image without authorisation.

It’s a classic passing-off risk: implying a connection or endorsement that doesn’t exist. The same principle applies beyond racing — whether your brand is invoking a festival, a celebrity, or a social movement, the question is always: does your use suggest official connection?

4. Fashions on the field — designs and branding

Even the fashion stakes come with IP issues. Designers rely on copyright, design registration, and branding to protect original pieces and accessories that debut trackside. Increasingly, brands run their own protected pop-ups and virtual events — blurring physical and digital rights.

5. Modern twists: influencers and digital IP

Today, Cup-day marketing spills across Instagram and TikTok. Influencers tag official partners, brands push instant content, and deepfakes and AI imagery are starting to creep in. For rights-holders, monitoring unauthorised digital use (and generative reproductions) has become the new frontier of event IP protection.

Take-away for brands and advisers

  • Register broadly: secure word, logo and shape marks early — even for event slogans.

  • Control use: structure sponsorships, broadcast and influencer agreements with precise IP clauses.

  • Monitor aggressively: unauthorised “association” can dilute event value fast.

  • Think digital: protect imagery, NFTs, and virtual activations just as you would physical goods.

The Melbourne Cup may stop the nation — but the IP behind it never sleeps.

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AI Training in Australia: Why a Mandatory Licence Could Be the Practical Middle Ground

Over the weekend the Australian Government finally drew a line in the sand: no special copyright carve-out to let AI developers freely train on Australians’ creative works. In rejecting a broad text-and-data-mining (TDM) exception, the Attorney-General signalled that any reform must protect creators first, and that “sensible and workable solutions” are the goal. Creators and peak bodies quickly welcomed the stance; the TDM exception floated by the Productivity Commission in August met fierce resistance from authors, publishers, music and media groups.

So where to from here? One pragmatic path is a mandatory licensing regime for AI training: no free use; transparent reporting; per-work remuneration; and money flowing to the rightsholders who opt in (or register) to be paid. Below I sketch how that could work in Australia, grounded in our existing statutory licensing DNA.

What just happened (and why it matters)

  • Government position (27 Oct 2025): The Commonwealth has ruled out a new TDM exception for AI training at this time and instead is exploring reforms that ensure fair compensation and stronger protections for Australian creatives. The Copyright and AI Reference Group (CAIRG) continues to advise, with transparency and compensation high on the agenda.

  • The alternative that was floated: In August, the Productivity Commission suggested consulting on a TDM exception to facilitate AI. That proposal drew a rapid backlash from creators, who argued it would amount to uncompensated mass copying.

  • The direction of travel: With an exception off the table, the policy energy now shifts to licensing — how to enable AI while paying creators and bringing sunlight to training data.

Australia already knows how to do “copy first, pay fairly”

We are not starting from scratch. Australia’s Copyright Act has long used compulsory (statutory) licences to reconcile mass, socially valuable uses with fair payment:

  • Education: Part VB/related schemes allow teachers to copy and share text and images for students, in return for licence fees distributed to rightsholders.

  • Broadcast content for education & government: Screenrights administers statutory licences for copying and communicating broadcast TV/radio content by educators and government agencies, with royalties paid out to rightsholders.

These schemes prove a simple point: when individual permissions are unfeasible at scale, mandatory licensing with collective administration can align public interest and creator remuneration.

A mandatory licence for AI training: the core design

Scope

The scope of a mandatory licence regime would need to cover the reproduction and ingestion of copyright works for the purpose of training AI models (foundation and domain-specific).

To ensure it doesn’t go too far, it would need to exclude public distribution of training copies.  Output uses would remain governed by ordinary copyright (no licence for output infringement, style-cloning or substitutional uses).

Ideally, the licence would cover all works protected under the Copyright Act 1968 (literary, artistic, musical, dramatic, films, sound recordings, broadcasts), whether online or offline, Australian or foreign (subject to reciprocity).

Mandatory

The licence would be mandatory for any developer (or deployer) who assembles or fine-tunes models using copies of protected works (including via third-party dataset providers).

Absent a specific free-to-use status (e.g. CC-BY with TDM permission or public domain), all AI training using covered works would require a licence and reporting.

Transparency/Reporting

Licensees would be required to maintain auditable logs identifying sources used (dataset manifests, crawling domains, repositories, catalogues).

They would also be required to provide regular transparency reports to the regulator and collecting society, with confidential treatment for genuinely sensitive items (trade secrets protected but not a shield for non-compliance). CAIRG has already identified copyright-related AI transparency as a live issue—this would operationalise it.

Register

A register of creators/rightsholders would be established with the designated collecting society (or societies) to receive distributions.

All unclaimed funds would be held and later distributed via usage-based allocation rules (with rolling claims windows), mirroring existing statutory practice in education/broadcast licences.

Rates

Setting rates and allocating royalties would be a little more complex.  One way to do that would be to blend:

  1. Source-side weighting (how much of each catalogue was ingested, adjusted for “substantial part” analysis); and

  2. Impact-side proxies (e.g. similarity retrieval hits during training/validation; reference counts in tokenizer vocabularies; contribution metrics from dataset cards).

Rates could be set by Copyright Tribunal-style determination or by periodic ministerial instrument following public consultation.

Opt out/in

In this proposal, there would be an opt-out process with all works covered by default on a “copy first, pay fairly” basis – which would replicate current education/broadcast models and avoid a data-black-market.

Into that could be layered an opt-out right for rightsholders who object on principle (with enforceable dataset deletion duties).

An added twist could be the inclusion of opt-in premium tiers, where, for example, native-format corpora or pre-cleared archives would be priced above the baseline.

Small model & research safe harbours

A de minimis / research tier for non-commercial, low-scale research could be applied with strict size and access limits (registered institutions; no commercial deployment) to keep universities innovating without trampling rights.

Enforcement

Civil penalties could be issued for unlicensed training; aggravated penalties for concealment or falsified dataset reporting.

The regulator/collecting society could also be given audit powers , with privacy and trade-secret safeguards.

Governance: who would run it?

Australia already has experienced collecting societies and government infrastructure:

  • Text/image sector: Copyright Agency (education/government experience, distribution pipelines).

  • Screen & broadcast: Screenrights (large-scale repertoire matching, competing claims processes).

  • Music (for audio datasets): APRA AMCOS/PPCA (licensing, cue sheets, ISRC/ISWC metadata).

The Government could designate a lead collecting society per repertoire (text/image; audio; AV) under ministerial declaration, with a single one-stop portal to keep compliance simple.

Why this beats both extremes

Versus a TDM exception (now rejected):

  • Ensures real money to creators, not just “innovation” externalities.

  • Reduces litigation risk for AI companies by replacing guesswork about “fair dealing/fair use” with clear rules and receipts.

Versus a pure consent-only world:

  • Avoids impossible transaction costs of millions of one-off permissions.

  • Preserves competition by allowing local model builders to license at predictable rates instead of being locked out by big-tech private deals.

Practical details to get right (and how to solve them)

  1. Identifiability of works inside massive corpora

    • Require dataset manifests and hashed URL lists on ingestion; favour sources with reliable identifiers (ISBN/ISSN/DOI/ISRC/ISWC).

    • Permit statistical allocation where atom-level matching is infeasible, backed by audits.

  2. Outputs vs training copies

    • This licence covers training copies only. Output-side infringement, passing-off, and “style cloning” remain governed by ordinary law (and other reforms). Government focus on broader AI guardrails continues in parallel.

  3. Competition & concentration

    • Prevent “most favoured nation” clauses and ensure FRAND-like access to the scheme so smaller labs can participate.

  4. Privacy & sensitive data

    • Exclude personal information categories by default; align with privacy reforms and sectoral data controls.

  5. Cross-border reciprocity

    • Pay foreign rightsholders via society-to-society deals; receive for Australians used overseas, following established collecting society practice.

How this could be enacted fast

  • Amend the Copyright Act 1968 (Cth) to insert a new Part establishing an AI Training Statutory Licence, with regulation-making power for:

    • eligible uses;

    • reporting and audit;

    • tariff-setting criteria;

    • distribution rules and claims periods;

    • penalties and injunctions for non-compliance.

  • Designate collecting societies by legislative instrument.

  • Set up a portal with standard dataset disclosure templates and quarterly reporting.

  • Transitional window (e.g., 9–12 months) to allow existing models to come into compliance (including back-payment or corpus curation).

What this could mean for your organisation (now)

  • AI developers & adopters: Start curating dataset manifests and chain-of-licence documentation. If your vendors can’t or won’t identify sources, treat that as a red flag.

  • Publishers, labels, studios, creators: Register and prepare your repertoire metadata so you’re discoverable on day one. Your leverage improves if you can prove usage and ownership.

  • Boards & GCs: Build AI IP risk registers that assume licensing is coming, not that training will be exempt. The government’s latest signals align with this.

Bottom line

Australia has rejected the “train now, pay never” pathway. The cleanest middle ground is not a loophole, but a licence with teeth: mandatory participation for AI trainers, serious transparency, and fair money to the people whose works are powering the models.

We already run national-scale licences for education and broadcast. We can do it again for AI—faster than you think, and fairer than the alternatives.

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AI-Generated Works & Australian Copyright — What IP Owners Need to Know

Artificial intelligence isn’t just a tool anymore — it’s a collaborator, a co-author, a designer, a composer, and sometimes, a headache. As generative AI models keep reshaping creative industries, the question for lawyers, founders, and creators is simple: Who owns what when AI helps create it?

The Australian Position: Still (Mostly) Human

Under Australian copyright law, protection only arises for an “original work” that has a human author. Section 32 of the Copyright Act 1968 (Cth) still assumes that authorship is a human act — one involving independent intellectual effort and sufficient human skill and judgment.

That means:

  • If an AI system generates a work entirely on its own, it’s not a “work” under the Act.

  • If a human uses AI as a creative aid, and the human’s contribution involves real creative choice — not just typing a prompt — the resulting work may be protected.

  • But if the human’s input is minimal or mechanical, protection is shaky at best.

There have been plenty of official hints that legislative reform is coming, but for now, the position is clear: no human, no copyright.

Human + AI: Collaboration or Confusion?

In practice, most creative or technical outputs sit in a grey zone between human authorship and full automation.

Take these examples:

  • A marketing team uses Midjourney to create a logo based on multiple prompts and manual refinements.

  • A software developer uses GitHub Copilot to generate snippets, then curates and rewrites them.

  • A songwriter uses Suno or Udio to generate backing tracks, then layers vocals and structure.

In each case, the key question is: how much creative control did the human exert? Ownership (and enforceability) often depends less on the tool, and more on the human story behind the output.

Overseas Comparisons: Diverging Paths

  • United States: The U.S. Copyright Office has refused registration for purely AI-generated works (Thaler v Perlmutter), but allows copyright in human-authored parts of mixed works.

  • United Kingdom: Section 9(3) of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 nominally attributes authorship to “the person by whom the arrangements necessary for the creation of the work are undertaken” — a possible (though untested) foothold for AI users.

  • Europe: The EU’s AI Act (Artificial Intelligence Act (Regulation (EU) 2024/1689)) leans heavily toward transparency and data-source disclosure, rather than redefining authorship.

  • China and Japan: Both have started to recognise limited copyright protection for AI-assisted works where human creativity remains substantial.

Australia hasn’t chosen a path yet — but in my view, any eventual reform is likely to echo the UK or EU models rather than the U.S. approach.

What IP Owners Should Do Now

Until the law catches up, contractual clarity is your best protection.

  1. Define ownership up-front: Ensure contracts, employment agreements, and service terms specify who owns outputs “created with the assistance of AI tools.” Clauses that tie ownership to “human input” and “creative control” can avoid later disputes.

  2. Track human contribution: Keep records of prompts, edits, decisions, and drafts — proof of human creativity can become decisive evidence if ownership is challenged.

  3. Check your inputs: Many AI systems are trained on datasets containing copyrighted material. Using their outputs commercially could expose you to infringement risk if the output is too close to the training data.

  4. Disclose AI use where relevant: For regulators (and some clients), transparency is now part of “reasonable steps” under APP 11 of the Privacy Act 1988 (Cth) and emerging AI-governance frameworks.

  5. Consider alternative protection: Where copyright may fail, consider trade marks, registered designs, or even confidential-information regimes for valuable AI-assisted outputs.

The Next Frontier: Authorship by Prompt?

The next legal battleground may well be prompt authorship — whether the person crafting complex or structured prompts can claim copyright in the resulting output or in the prompt itself. Early commentary suggests yes, if the prompt reflects creative skill and judgment, but this remains untested in Australian courts.

Final Thoughts …

AI isn’t erasing copyright — it’s forcing it to evolve. For now, the safest position is that human-directed, human-shaped works remain protectable. Purely machine-generated ones don’t.

But the creative frontier is moving fast, and so is the legal one. If you’re commissioning, creating, or commercialising AI-generated content, assume that ownership must be earned through human input — and documented accordingly.

Australia’s copyright and privacy frameworks are both in flux. Expect further reform by mid-2026, when the government’s broader AI and IP Reform Roadmap is due.

Until then: contract it, track it, and own it.

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When Cheaper Medicines Meet Patent Law: Regeneron v Sandoz

A Federal Court decision has just reshaped the battlefield for biosimilars in Australia.

In Regeneron v Sandoz [2025] FCA 1067, Justice Rofe refused an interlocutory injunction that would have blocked the launch of Sandoz’s aflibercept biosimilar. The case isn’t just about patents — it’s about the balance between innovation, public health, and billions in PBS spending.

The dispute

  • Regeneron and Bayer own patents over aflibercept (marketed as EYLEA®).

  • Sandoz sought to launch a competing biosimilar.

  • The Court was asked to stop the launch pending trial.

The ruling

  • No injunction: Justice Rofe refused to grant interlocutory relief.

  • Key reasons:

    • Public interest: cheaper biosimilars mean lower PBS prices, better access for patients.

    • Commercial realities: Regeneron had already launched an 8mg product (EYLEA HD), while uptake of Roche’s VABYSMO® was rising.

    • Patent merits: while Regeneron had arguable claims, they weren’t strong enough to outweigh the public health case.

Why it matters

  • For innovators: You can’t assume automatic injunctions — public interest now weighs heavily.

  • For biosimilar entrants: The Court is more receptive to arguments about affordability and patient access.

  • For the PBS: This case signals a judicial awareness of pricing impacts, not just patent rights.

Takeaway
This is one of the clearest recent examples of the Federal Court weighing patent exclusivity against healthcare economics.

Expect more disputes like this as Australia’s biosimilar pipeline grows.