“King of the Mount”: Scott Morrison does a lap at Bathurst with five-time champion driver Mark Skaife. Picture: CHANNEL 7

Dear Diary,
On the weekend I went to Bathurst. I didn’t know quite where it was, except it was west of the ocean. Someone said: “Everything is west of the ocean where you live, Scott.” I didn’t know if he was making a joke with me or being serious. I gave a laugh anyway, just to be safe. Anyway, every year Bathurst has a car race, blokes drive these very fast cars round and round a mountain, and the winner is called ‘King of the Mount’. “Wait a minute,” I said, “I’m King of the Mount”. Everyone laughed. Good joke, must remember it. I got to sit in a racing car, not during the race of course, but when I did a super-fast lap as a passenger. “This is not a race!” I said. Everyone laughed, because it was a good joke. It was a race, though. Then I got my photo taken with some other people who were involved in the big race. I had a great time. I even got my picture in the papers!

Dear Diary,
It’s almost Christmas. I can’t wait! I don’t have to go into the office for the rest of the year, thank goodness. And with a bit of luck and organising on my part, maybe very little for the start of next year, as well. I’ve put up the Christmas lights, too. I had to climb a ladder to put them up, which is a lot easier, let me say, than climbing the leadership ladder (haha). Though just between you and me, Diary, it really wasn’t that hard (Merry Christmas, Malcolm, haha) Anyway the lights say Merry Christmas. I even got my photo taken doing that, too.

Dear Diary,
Exciting times ahead. The nation awaits an announcement by yours truly. I have to practise my Face of Gravitas. I’ve been getting tips from my friend Peter, who can’t stop talking about war. Now there’s a cause for the Face of Gravitas. Imagine little Australia going to war against a big bully. No kicking them in the shins and running away. No sir, we’ll be right alongside our mighty cousins with our mighty arsenal of subs and warships. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, big announcement coming up. Plenty of photos on that day that’s for sure. Then it’ll be on the road, like a rock star on tour.

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Dear Diary,
Can’t wait for the cricket. I love our cricketers doing their derring-do on the field. I’ll be there for the photo op (sorry, I mean chance to cheer them on with a “Good shot, Steve”, or “Oooooohh” when a batsman swings and misses, or a cheer and a raised glass of beer when we take an Englishman’s wicket.) Yes sir, plenty of photo ops there.

Dear Diary,
Not sure about New Year’s Eve. Might stay home and watch from there. Kirribilli is a wonderful backdrop for a photo when the fireworks go off over the harbour. Memo to self: mustn’t wear a Hawaiian shirt.

Dear Diary,
Note points:

  • Don’t mention the war, sorry, pandemic. Forward, forward, forward from here. It’s unpatriotic to look backwards, and unhelpful – unless it’s to kick the enemy in the guts, metaphorically, of course. Don’t have to say it, but just put the seed in everyone’s garden – everything was someone else’s fault – and watch the flowers grow. Everyone wants to be happy, so make them happy.
  • Throw money where it’s deserved, that is, where it’s needed to win.
  • Hammer home this: everything in the nation, in every town and city, in every house and business, will be worse without me. Memo to myself: Truth is not your friend.
  • Be everywhere, all the time. It worked last time.
  • Take no notice of criticism. Miracles occur despite criticism. Take no notice of the premises of questioning of you and your actions. Miracles can happen more than once. Praise the Lord.
  • And remember this above all else. The photograph never lies. You are the photograph. Smile.