It’s that time of the electoral cycle, when a pundit’s fancy turns to thoughts of election timing.
Yes, if Christmas is the silly season, the fag end of a parliament is circle-jerk season for the political commentariat, who shall henceforth be known as the “bobbleheads” because that is how I imagine them, all their oversized heads wobbling, none of them paying any attention to anything.
The bobbleheads love this phase of the election cycle because it gives them a chance to do the thing they love best — speculate. Speculation is great because it fills hours of airtime and column inches with nothing but opinion as they spread the metaphorical entrails across a slab under the Budget Tree and try to divine meaning from the fact that Albo wore his tie half an inch shorter than he did the day before.
“Well, clearly, Carl, this is an indication from the Prime Minister that the parliamentary session is going to be cut short, which is of course at odds with Mr Albanese’s promise of going a full term.”
Having justified that week’s pay check by penning a “thought piece” on the PM’s sartorial signalling, our esteemed bobbleheads can then be interviewed by fellow bobbleheads, who all have their own theories on the timing of the election and what it will mean for the party machines and the prospects for the government and the opposition.
What you’re less likely to hear is what this all means to the punters out in non-bobblehead land (aka the real world). You might be struggling to find this month’s mortgage payment, or wondering how you’re going to find a new rental at this time of year, or just vaguely worrying about the fate of the world for any of eleventy thousand reasons, but not the bobbleheads.
Nope, fuck you and your need for housing or your existential angst. What really matters is when Albo will tell the driver to take the car to Government House and have the GG dissolve parliament.
And the reason all this political onanism is such a waste of seed? Because we have to have a fucking election anyway. It’s a given that there will be an election by 17 May 2025 because the Constitution says there has to be one. If it happens three weeks or three months before that is of absolutely no concern to the vast majority of people out in the real world.
Not that I’m one to quote Scott Morrison (at least not in any sort of fair or supportive way), but when he popularised the phrase “Canberra bubble” this is the sort of bullshit he should have been referring to — the self-absorbed bobbleheads obsessed with the minutiae of political machinations and “reporting” on it like it’s life and death stuff.
Whatever the arguments for and against fixed parliamentary terms, shutting the bobbleheads up — at least on this topic — has to be numbers one through 10 on the “pro” list.
Until then, the saving grace this time is that Political Onanism Season coincides with the Silly Season, meaning there’s good weather outside and no good reason to be inside reading or watching the “news”. And even if there’s not, there’s always the cricket.
Election timing speculation (aka Political Onanism Season)
It’s that time of the electoral cycle, when a pundit’s fancy turns to thoughts of election timing.
Yes, if Christmas is the silly season, the fag end of a parliament is circle-jerk season for the political commentariat, who shall henceforth be known as the “bobbleheads” because that is how I imagine them, all their oversized heads wobbling, none of them paying any attention to anything.
The bobbleheads love this phase of the election cycle because it gives them a chance to do the thing they love best — speculate. Speculation is great because it fills hours of airtime and column inches with nothing but opinion as they spread the metaphorical entrails across a slab under the Budget Tree and try to divine meaning from the fact that Albo wore his tie half an inch shorter than he did the day before.
“Well, clearly, Carl, this is an indication from the Prime Minister that the parliamentary session is going to be cut short, which is of course at odds with Mr Albanese’s promise of going a full term.”
Having justified that week’s pay check by penning a “thought piece” on the PM’s sartorial signalling, our esteemed bobbleheads can then be interviewed by fellow bobbleheads, who all have their own theories on the timing of the election and what it will mean for the party machines and the prospects for the government and the opposition.
What you’re less likely to hear is what this all means to the punters out in non-bobblehead land (aka the real world). You might be struggling to find this month’s mortgage payment, or wondering how you’re going to find a new rental at this time of year, or just vaguely worrying about the fate of the world for any of eleventy thousand reasons, but not the bobbleheads.
Nope, fuck you and your need for housing or your existential angst. What really matters is when Albo will tell the driver to take the car to Government House and have the GG dissolve parliament.
And the reason all this political onanism is such a waste of seed? Because we have to have a fucking election anyway. It’s a given that there will be an election by 17 May 2025 because the Constitution says there has to be one. If it happens three weeks or three months before that is of absolutely no concern to the vast majority of people out in the real world.
Not that I’m one to quote Scott Morrison (at least not in any sort of fair or supportive way), but when he popularised the phrase “Canberra bubble” this is the sort of bullshit he should have been referring to — the self-absorbed bobbleheads obsessed with the minutiae of political machinations and “reporting” on it like it’s life and death stuff.
Whatever the arguments for and against fixed parliamentary terms, shutting the bobbleheads up — at least on this topic — has to be numbers one through 10 on the “pro” list.
Until then, the saving grace this time is that Political Onanism Season coincides with the Silly Season, meaning there’s good weather outside and no good reason to be inside reading or watching the “news”. And even if there’s not, there’s always the cricket.