There has never been a more exciting time to call a double dissolution election. I love elections generally, but the possibility of a double D is enough to make me click my heels with joy. Fact is, double dissolution elections are about as rare as Halley’s comet and heaps more enjoyable because they don’t involve getting up at three o’clock in the morning, trudging into the back paddock and staring forlornly into the sky in the hope of seeing a little bit of light flash across the sky like a radioactive mosquito.
There has never been a more exciting time to call a double dissolution election. I love elections generally, but the possibility of a double D is enough to make me click my heels with joy. Fact is, double dissolution elections are about as rare as Halley’s comet and heaps more enjoyable because they don’t involve getting up at three o’clock in the morning, trudging into the back paddock and staring forlornly into the sky in the hope of seeing a little bit of light flash across the sky like a radioactive mosquito.
In a mere matter of weeks, the nation will be gearing up for it’s favourite sausage sizzle. Butchers of Australia rejoice! Given the magnitude of unfolding events, it won’t be enough just to get a single snag as you line up to cast your vote. An occasion this grand requires at least two sausages so that you end up with piping hot meat missiles in each hand, wrapped in slices of Tip Top and splashed with tomato sauce. Granted, you might make quite a mess, but you can’t tell me that the Senate ballot paper wouldn’t make a pretty handy napkin if push should ever come to shove.
This type of election is different to most. Usually, waiting for an election to be called is kind of like waiting for a bus to show up. You know it’s coming; you’re just not sure when. This time it’s different. With the exception of Clive Palmer being returned to the lower house, absolutely anything is possible. It began, as so many great stories do, with a twist that would leave M. Night Shyamalan weeping with envy. Consider this: Parliament had started the winter recess and nearly everyone had gone home. An eerie peace had descended on Canberra. Then, when it was least expected, the Prime Minister strode purposefully into the Parliamentary courtyard and announced that he’d whipped over to see the Governor General who had agreed to prorogue Parliament.
First of all, as a nation we should all be grateful for the all too rare opportunity to use the word ‘prorogue’ in everyday conversation. Personally speaking, I’ve been working it into pretty much every discussion over the past three weeks and, frankly, it’s giving me a great deal of joy. I’d like to think that those on the receiving end are having a similarly splendid time. I fully intend to prorogue myself silly for at least the next month or so. To date, there’s nothing at all to suggest that novelty might wear off any time soon. (Here’s a hot tip: keep an eye out for the word ‘prorogue’ if I send you a Christmas card this year.)
When the history of this year is written, I think the Prime Minister’s announcement will be regarded as his ‘fully operational’ Death Star moment. Given that the move was largely directed at a bunch of Senators who have previously been compared to the ‘Star Wars cantina’, perhaps this was fitting. Doubtless, they would prefer to regard themselves as the Rebellion. It’s fair to say that there are some members of the Australian Senate who do not share my enthusiasm for a possible double dissolution election. In fact, they’re flat-out furious. This, I believe, may well be one of the reasons they’re often referred to as ‘the (very) cross bench’.
Their fury is fuelled not merely by the fact of an election but that, this time around, they’ll need more people to actually vote for them. This is in stark contrast to the previous method involving exchanges of preferences that makes FIFA’s process for determining world cup hosts look positively transparent in comparison. However, whether we get a double dissolution election at all turns on whether the Senate passes a particular piece of legislation. In response to this, Senator Leyonhjelm of the ‘Liberal Democrats’ whose presence in the Senate may, in fact, be the result of a clerical error, has stated that he won’t have a gun held to his head. Which, given his enthusiasm for firearms more generally, is something of an irony.
Whilst for some in the Senate, the upcoming election could be considered an existential threat, for others it’s the moment for which they’ve been waiting their entire lives. For Bill Shorten, it’s an opportunity to see whether he can ever be something more than opposition leader with a knack for the kind of Dad jokes that provoke not so much a groan as the gnashing of teeth. After suffering from chronically low popularity ratings, for a time Bill Shorten’s hold on his job was only possible thanks to rules designed to protect others from Bill Shorten. But this is his moment. Doubtless he fancies his chances and we’re in for a fascinating contest.
So there it is. With a simple press conference, our great nation may be well on its way to a double dissolution election. At least, that’s how I think it’s spelled. Doubtless someone else has already christened it the ‘double disillusion’ poll. Good for them. As for the rest of us, we should relax and bathe in democracy’s warm and gentle glow. It’ll be more fun that Game of Thrones and House of Cards combined. In fact, someone should use that as their election slogan. Let the excitement commence!