Inside Labor’s election party at Village Green Hotel in Mulgrave

Chants of “four more years” rang out among the Labor faithful as their man was back, by popular demand, but was it a case of disappearing Dan?

People were on the beers and champagnes at Labor’s election party. Picture: Jason Edwards

At Dan’s Party, at the Village Green Hotel in Mulgrave, they were getting on the beers (and the party pies) on Saturday night.

To borrow from lockdown lingo, they were right to go. It was the right thing to do, but also the popular thing, too. They were working together. Getting things done.

The only problem? Almost two hours into counting, there was little concrete information to extrapolate. Only one thing was clear – the election would certainly overlap the other important result – the Australia v Tunisia World Cup match.

For Andrews’ closest supporters, everything looked red as they arrived at his election night party. The balloons, the T-shirts, even the star stamp pass out.

Yet the mood was otherwise, especially after the clock ticked eight. The early signs had been vague, certainly, but also promising. Whooping greeted updated seat estimates. Another four years in office appeared more and more likely.

“I was planning to get sloshed tonight,” said a cautiously celebratory ALP volunteer, pointing to the police cars outside the venue. “But now I can’t.”

Labor Party supporters at the Village Green. Picture: Jake Nowakowski

The police were lurking outside for the later arrival of Andrews. He was shaping to accept victory for the third successive time, and to stand to be Victoria’s second longest serving premier.

In 2014, when the hot ticket item was an iPhone 6, many voters barely knew of Andrews; that he had been shortened of name and freshened of wardrobe for electoral appeal went largely unnoticed.

By 2018, Andrews had shown he did get things done, not withstanding the odd scandal or three, and the hints of a centralised power structure, which later provoked cult of personality comparisons with less democratic realms.

For this election, Andrews may now be widely loathed, in a hateful rhetoric that has descended into personal threats. He has batted away the “worst government ever” descriptors.

Yet in likely victory, the knockers hardly matter; nor does the probable statistic that almost two in three Victorians voted for parties which were not Labor.

There was a celebratory mood on the night. Picture: Jake Nowakowski

Most Victorians have forgotten that Andrews’ catchphrase for this election – positivity and optimism – mirrored his language of four years ago, when he also spoke of an electorate which had rejected the “low road of fear and division”.

Yet a lot has happened since. Some Victorians might describe the political approach of the past four years as a low road of fear and division.

The health system has sagged. Oh, and there was the world’s longest lockdown, which by the end prompted many Victorians to ignore state edicts.

This election day, certainly, was unlike most. Novice Mulgrave political candidates sought to harness anti-Dan sentiment.

Comedian, Kim Jong-un impersonator and Mulgrave candidate Howard Lee was armed with a pretend rocket and real megaphone.

An image posted to Daniel Andrews's Twitter on Saturday. Picture: Twitter/@DanielAndrewsMP

He voted at Albany Rise Primary School, near the Andrews’ home, on Saturday morning, where signs pronounced “Put Dan last”, “Anyone but Dan” and “Vote him out”.

Andrews’ most vocal local opponent, Ian Cook, said Andrews hadn’t been sighted in these parts for years. To be fair, Andrews had been rather busy, doing things which polarised the electorate.

Yet he seemed to deliberately avoid his home suburbs during the campaign.

Politicians don’t ordinarily mess with the election day playbook.

For decades, the formula has remained the same; vote early for the TV cameras, share a democracy sausage or seven with the constituents.

An exception was Kevin Rudd, in the 2013 federal election, who kept journalists waiting for hours because, it was said, he could not confront the loss which awaited.

Another exception is now Andrews, who voted at a pre-poll booth in secret on Thursday night.

On Saturday, he played the man of mystery. Was it Where’s Danny? Or Disappearing Dan?

No journalists knew where Andrews was; no one knew where he was going. Was it supreme confidence, or a tactic aimed at sucking his opponents’ oxygen? After all, most of them didn’t hope to win; they stood only to make sure that Andrews did not.

Back at Village Green, numbers swelled. Forget the beers – now they were getting on the champagnes. The first “four more years” chants broke out. The hug count multiplied.

To mangle another of Andrews’ pandemic mantras, all the crowd didn’t want it to be over. And the updating numbers suggested that their man would be back, by popular demand.