Deep in the gothic bowels of the castle, surrounded by the shadows of electoral gloom, two figures work feverishly over a grey slab. On the slab, lit by the weird glow of tuge banks of switches and dials set into the wall, lies a grotesque effigy. A gruesome corpse apparently made of a patchwork of twisted limbs and inhuman features. Across it's scarred torso lies a sash with the words "Federal Election 2010" emblazoned.
"OK Igor, throw the switch... NOW!"
The switch crashes down under the hunchbacked figure's hands. A searing bolt of lightning crashes down from above, throwing the monster on the slab into convulsions.
"Enough!" cries a manic figure and Igor's hands force the switch back up to the vertical. The manic figure approaches the smoking slab and thrusts forward a stethoscope. Seconds tick by, until the manic figure throws back it's head ...
Meanwhile, in Adelaide..
"Good morning, jackals of the media. I've got a brief statement to make and then I'll answer any of your questions that I don't slap you for. So listen up good."
A sultry red-haired woman, bristling with suppressed rage, strode purposefully up to the podium and casually kicked it in the groin.
"OK. Let's get this clear. I will not comment on Cabinet discussions. NO WAY. NEVER GONNA HAPPEN. END OF STORY. But on a lighter note let me say this. The suggestion that I opposed giving pensioners the price of a good feed once a week, or that I opposed giving parents a few bucks to stay home and play with their kid's Nintendo is a damn lie of the sort only a shit-eating political hyena would spread.."
The elegantly attired woman tightened her grip on the lectern, wood splintering away in a sprinkle of sawdust and nail polish. She cast a demure glance across the pack of reporters, paint at the back of the room beginning to blister and peel as her gaze passed.
".. And let me further say this: I'll snot the first bastard who says it to my carefully made-up face, and use his scrotum to carry my laptop in for the rest of the campaign. Like I said, cabinet discussions - NOT A SINGLE WORD. Only a toad, or more precisely, a toad's arse, would shit on that important principle, and only a gutless toad's arse would do it without 'fessing up. Not that I necessarily believe anyone has done that. I'm well aware that in the ALP no-one like that could possibly exist, or have done such a thing. Now, questions?"
"So this leak isn't political sabotage, Prime Minister?"
"Certainly not. Disaffected poltroons with no balls and no talent, going the smear and laughing to themselves while they roger my campaign couldn't possibly exist in this wonderful party we call the ALP. I'm amazed you could believe such a thing."
"Will you be ordering an enquiry into the source of the leak, Prime Minister?"
"No point, they'll be long gone now, or hiding in the shadow of Laurie Oaks, and it would take a spy-satellite to spot anyone behind that fat bastard."
"So you don't believe it's a former Prime Minister, possibly a Queenslander, who could be behind this?"
"No. Ridiculous idea. Couldn't be. Kev's too fine a man to stoop so low for sheer spite. He'd have got someone else to do it. Probably that worm Alistair Jordan. He's got nothing to do now it's back to the colouring books and crayons."
"That's quite a cynical view, isn't it, Prime Minister?"
"What are you, brain-dead? The only way to kill an ego like Rudd's is with a stake through the heart. The idiot probably thinks he can resurrect his leadership if he skewers my campaign and turns up after the dust settles looking like a popular local member."
"When he'll just look like a member, Prime Minister?"
"Nice one, Michelle, yes, a complete tool, and flaccid at that."
"So you aren't convinced the leak is genuine, Prime Minister?"
"Too right. This has all the grubby hallmarks of something Laurie Oaks has pulled out of his arse, and let's face it, you could hide the Titanic in there. It's not a leak so much as a small effulgence of wind, a passing of gas, a wee flatulent moment from the Cane Toad of Australian journalism. Next question. You there, Steven."
"Tony Abbott has announced he's cutting company tax by one and a half percent?"
"While raising it by the same amount to pay for his parental leave spend-fest. Yes, I know. It's just the old Liberal Party reach-around in a different form. Sing low taxes at you until your knickers hit carpet and then whack the increase up you from behind while promising you won't get pregnant. Or in this case, that you will get pregnant, or maybe just screwed. Who cares? Fuck him too."
"Tony Abbott has also said that you should name your cabinet now, particularly whether or not Kevin Rudd will be Foreign Minister, Prime Minister?"
"Oh for fuck's sake! What are you, his backing group? Rudd will get his just reward after this is all over, I can assure you. As for naming the front bench, I could name an empty chair as Foreign Minister and it would still have more credibility than Julie Bishop. She's a glazed expression, a haircut and a handbag who thinks she'll get permanent duty-free shopping. OK That's it. You can all piss off until I call you back."
"Um, Prime Minister, has this leak made you angry?"
"Oh God, the work-experience kid speaks. What are you, stupid? No, don't answer that, it could take all day. Let me just say this, FAAAAAARRRRKKKK!!!! I'LL MURDER THE BAAASTAARRDS!!! No, of course I'm not angry, not even miffed. I'm planning a relaxing day surrounded by you scumbags along with the quiet determination to kill something small and furry before the day is out."