This morning The Blowfly is firmly esconced on the shoulder of Malcolm Turnbull as he reads what the weekend newspapers are saying about him and the situation he is in.
He is coming to grips with Michelle Grattan's article in Saturday's Age.It is headed "Can Turnbull survive?"
He is focused on the insert "The Liberals are jammed. They have a leader who can't cut it with the public."
The Blowfly prepares himself for the flow of thoughts channelling their way from the brain of the 'ex-Goldman Sachs stalwart turned politician' into The Blowfly's massive brain.
It takes a little while for the flow to commence. You sense Malcolm is a little depressed and he may be trawling through his grey matter trying to work out why he even got into politics, but then it comes.................
"My father told me," cogitates Malcolm, " that the best way to get into politics is to find a crowd that's going somewhere and get in front of them. At the time it seemed like the Coalition was going somewhere. And then the Lying Rodent gave me that water portfolio and got me all excited about climate change and all that stuff. I thought I would be able to change the world."
"I still don't know whether climate change is caused by carbon emissions but it wont hurt to reduce them. Why are those damned farmers being so obstreporous?Why wont they listen to me? I am their leader!"
He smiles a knowing smile because he recalls the line that "to be a leader you need a lot of people dumb enough to follow you".
"Maybe that's the point! Boy, are the National's dumb? That Barnaby Joyce is as dumb as dog-shit.Did you see him on '4 Corners' recently strutting his stuff for the cameras? Lucy would never have let me do that. Speak of the devil!"
At that point Lucy emerges with a duster in hand. She is whipping it over his study.
She looks over his shoulder and sees the article on the opposite page about Sir Neville Marriner, the 85 year old British orchestra conductor, who is in Melbourne for a series of concerts.
Aware of his pain due to the look on his face she injects herself into his head.
"Now there's a thought darling! Why don't you think of yourself as more like the conductor of a musical rabble? What would Sir Neville do if he was in your shoes?"
She then disappears on her domestic rounds.
His nimble mind embraces the concept deftly.
"Well for one I'd exercise more patience with the rabble. I'd probably not threaten to resign if weren't going in my direction. But then he recalls that some have been unkind enough to refer to a conductor as "a man dressed in a magician's outfit who is deluded enough to think that by waving a wand at an orchestra he can make it play".
"Ah she cracks me up Lucy does. She does that all the time.Distracts me so I may become a wiser Opposition leader! I hope she does it when I'm PM. Michelle Grattan doesn't think I'll get to PM, but I'll show her."
He drifts off into a fitful sleep , baton in hand.
The Blowfly smiles a knowing smile. His charge from Vaucluse does not even think about defeat.He does not look back.He is, after all, a leader who prevailed over Kerry Packer.What more needs to be said?
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