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. Jodie’s cancelled Easter. She said there’s no point driving anywhere if you might not get back. I said that’s defeatist. She said it’s maths – “Anthony.” She does that. Uses my name when she’s done calculating. And I haven’t started.Tried to fill up on Monday. Servo in Manuka. Twenty-three cars. I joined the queue like a normal person. Geoff said we could take the Commonwealth car. I said “no Geoff, this is solidarity.” He said the Commonwealth car runs on LPG. S**t. Nobody tells me anything. The one on Adelaide Avenue had bags over the nozzles. Little plastic bags. Like party hats for petrol pumps. I sat there for eleven minutes. Nobody recognised me thank goodness. Then a woman in a Kluger gave me the finger for cutting in. I wasn’t cutting in. I was governing. She had a bumper sticker that said ‘Not My PM.’ She was clearly far-right. I wrote down her numberplate. Then I lost the pen.Question Time was… fine. Tony and I had a laugh. We were laughing at the question, not the suffering, which is a distinction Jodie says doesn’t exist. Andrew Hastie gave me that look. You know the one, like a disappointed Labrador who’s done three tours. I know what he was thinking. Everyone was thinking it. Then Angus goes outside to a 7-Eleven, a bloody 7-Eleven!, and announces he’ll halve the excise. Three months. No sweat. He stood there with Canavan like two blokes ordering a flat white and said it’d save families fifty bucks a week. I find that deeply suspicious. Nobody is that calm during a crisis unless they’ve already done the sums and know you’re finished.
And what do they want to pay for it? Scrap the EV subsidies. Which I can’t allow. Because I said - and I was very proud of this - “I don’t think there’s anyone who bought an electric vehicle who’s regretting their decision.” I said that at a press conference. While diesel is three dollars. Jodie heard it on the ABC. She said, “Anthony, there are four hundred thousand EV owners and forty-four million litres of diesel burned every day. Who are you governing for?” I said the future. She closed the fridge. Sometimes I think the sound of that fridge door closing has become a sort of full stop in our marital conversations.Chris went to a climate conference in Brisbane. During the crisis. He’s also chief negotiator for COP. So while half the country can’t fill a ute, Chris is in Queensland talking about wind. The wind is free, apparently. Try putting wind in a Kenworth. Actually, don’t tell Chris I said that. He’ll commission a study. And then find a way to make it work. He’ll stand in front of a camera and say “the transition is ahead of schedule” while a bloke behind him siphons diesel out of a tractor.
When Chris came back, he lowered the fuel standards, so we can sell dirtier petrol. Which was interesting. High-sulphur stuff that was supposed to be exported to countries with lower standards. Now it’s ours. How good is that? Monday we’re doing National Cabinet. Voluntary mandates. Work from home. Carpool. Save petrol. Which is NOT the same as Stay Home, Stay Safe. Same words. Same order. Completely different. I told the press we’d learned the lessons of COVID. What I meant is we’ve learned how to do it again but better, and with a new font.Meanwhile Donald says we’re “not great.” Excuse me mate? He grouped us with Britain. On television. In a cabinet meeting. I told the press I’d enjoyed a very constructive relationship with Trump. Then I mentioned we weren’t even consulted before they bombed Iran, which made Geoff do that thing he does with both his eyebrows. You don’t leave a bloke off the group chat and then blame him for not bringing a plate. Right?Some good news though – I signed the EU deal with Ursula van Diemen’s Land on Tuesday. Lovely woman. She flew all the way from Brussels and I gave her a jar of Vegemite. She looked at me like I’d handed her evidence. Good deal though. I think. Eight years it took. We lost feta. And gruyere. Which hurts. But we kept parmesan and kransky and Prosecco, which is the main thing. Cheaper pasta and biscuits at the checkout. So while nobody can drive to Woolies, they’ll be able to walk there and buy cheaper biscotti. That’s vision! Don Farrell cried tough – which was weird. He cries at every trade deal though to be fair. He cried at the India one. He cried at the Indonesia one. I think he just likes crying. He should teach Littleproud. That boy needs lessons.Ended the week with a long bath. Still trying to work out the VPN. I thought about how we closed our own refineries to save the planet, and now the planet’s on fire, and we’re buying American diesel to drive to the fires. That’s not irony. That’s transition. I asked Jim if that was ironic. He said it was structural. I nodded. I have no idea what structural means when it’s not a building. Jim patted me on the shoulder on his way out. He’s never done that before. That’s either compassion or a goodbye. I couldn’t tell which.
Ate some aged Comte before bed. Thought about Jodie saying “it’s maths, Anthony.” Thought about Angus at the 7-Eleven, calm as anything. He scares me. Not in the Canavan way. Canavan scares me like a bull scares a matador. Angus scares me like an accountant who’s already found the receipt.
Oh well. Cola-banana awaits! If I can bloody get there!
I remain, as always, on the right side of history. History has not confirmed this yet. But it will.
