The Prime Minister keeps a diary. He calls it his ‘legacy document’. You are not supposed to be reading this. His office describes it as “a fabrication.” But to be fair, his office describes most things as a fabrication, so make of that what you will.
Dear Diary.
It’s in my mouth like a lolly. 18 minutes and 14 seconds. That isn’t long. That’s a Cold Chisel B side. People wait longer than that for a bus. And nobody asks them what they’ve learned.
Sarah puts a question down on the table like a school teacher and then doesn’t pick it up. She just sits there with you and the question. Like you’ve done something wrong. Before I answer though, you gotta pause. First time I thought - that’s Hawke. Second time I thought - that’s a man waiting to be told. Third time it was Hawke again. Depends what you’ve eaten in the green room I reckon.
“What have you learned?” she said. What have you LEARNED. “Error” I said. Error’s a good word. Error hasn’t got a person in it. A mistake’s got a person standing next to it, holding it, but an error is just... weather.
Look I’m not sorry about the fucking melons. Tokyo wrote us a beautiful letter saying the whole thing had been overdone. Which was very classy and very correct. And then somebody in a building I pay the bloody electricity on handed that letter to a journalist, and now the Federal Police are looking it. The letter, not the melons thing.
Six weeks it’s been. Geoff wanted the apology in the first week. I said “let’s see if it dies, Geoff.” Yeah. Well. Nothing dies now. That’s what nobody warned me about.
Anyway, where was I?
Oh. 274,000. That’s how many guns we’re going to buy back off people. Mainly from farmers, but they’re not our base, so who cares? Barnaby asked if was I going to start buying back golf clubs next. Stupid jerk. Get your teeth fixed Joycie! Then I thought about it in the car. Maybe that’s not such a bad idea.
Thursday we went over a trillion dollars. But six billion came due on the Friday and it went back under, so technically we’ve never been over a trillion. Technically it was a Thursday. Technically it was about 90 minutes, and I said that out loud to three separate people, and they all made the same face.
I used to be able to do a face. I had a face. You’ve got to really. A kind of concerned but warm face. I did about half an hour of it in the mirror once and it was there, it was definitely mine, and I went in this morning and... nope, it’s gone. I can do the eyebrows, and I can do the mouth, but only one at a time. They’ve stopped arriving together. It’s like watching two blokes carry a wardrobe up a staircase.
Oh and bloody Bowen has booked three resorts in Fiji for the big schmooze. $20 million for the meeting before the meeting, and the actual meeting’s in Turkey! He asked America, China, France, Japan and Britain to come, and not one of them has said yes, so this week he’s asked a union. I shouldn’t be saying this, but what a twonk. That’s like hiring the Opera House and filling it with your cousins. But Chris has never been wrong about anything ever, so I’ll wait and see what happens. Anika Wells should go. She should take her whole family. And Tony should go too. He might bring some ‘guests’ back. I’m just joking of course. They’re not going. But I am! I’ve never been to one of these things in my life. Not one, in four years, so now I’m going to the one before the one. How good is that?
Oh and bloody Barnaby says One Nation is one of the gayest parties in Australia. Barnaby. Excuse me mate. Are you though? Are you?
That column is mine. I’ve had that column since before he had a seat. I marched when there was nothing in it and now he’s on the telly counting my people. So look Barnaby old chum, you can’t just take the gays. They’re ours. There’s a list, there’s a number. And the number is the point. The number’s the whole thing. Except they’re coming loose. All of them. The numbers are still sitting there in the columns but the people have got out from underneath, and now I’ve got heaps of columns of nothing and a bloke in Marrickville who came up to me and said “Albo, mate, I’m gay, and I’m a conservative. I just want to be left alone.”
Left alone? Where do I put that?
Was he telling me he’s thinking of voting for One Nation? Don’t even think about it mate. The gays are ours. Labor is the gayest party in Australia. So shove that where the sun don’t shine. Which, if you’re gay, might be quite fun actually. I’m joking again. Behave.
But Pauline’s on 29, and I haven’t changed. Nit one bit. I’m the same bloke. With the same beliefs, the same everything - public housing, single mum on benefits, all of it. I’ve not moved one inch. So it isn’t me. Yet Pauline is attracting the gay community. What the actual?
They’ve swapped it. Somebody’s swapped the country and left me holding the paperwork. And nobody told me when it happened. That’s all I want - a date. Because I’d walk into that room and I’d say righto, when did it happen? But there is no room, and there’s nobody bloody in it.
I’ve now started studying rooms before I go in them. Only recently though. I never used to do shit like that.
I called Toto. He didn’t come. I called him again and then found him already there, on the mat, facing the door. He’s been there the whole time watching it, and I don’t know what he’s watching it for, because nobody’s coming.
Jodie came into the bathroom for something and went out again. But on the way past she said, “you said error, Anthony.” What’d she mean by that? I need cheese.
There’s a gruyere in the fridge. Tasmanian. We lost gruyere in the Europe deal and I went and found one, quietly, no announcement, no press conference, and not one person in this country has ever thanked me for that.
I should probably watch the ABC interview again, but the water’s gone cold and I don’t know when that happened either.
I remain, as always, on the right side of history. History has not yet confirmed this. But it will.
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