Federal election 2016: shock at Liberal post-election party

Liberal Party President Richard Alston, centre, tries to call Malcolm Turnbull after billionaire Anthony Pratt, left, asked him whether on not Turnbull would be making an appearance. Picture: Hollie Adams.

Australia’s second-richest person, Anthony Pratt, was still waiting — in the early hours of Sunday morning — for the nation’s 29th Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull to arrive at what was supposed to be a Liberal victory party at Sydney’s Sofitel Wentworth.

As you may have heard, things had not exactly followed Turnbull’s plan.

So what did Pratt — the executive chairman of Visy Industries, a man with a fortune recently valued at $10.4 billion — make of what at that stage looked like the narrowest of victories for Turnbull?

“Well, it’s better to almost die than almost survive,” Pratt told us.

Wise words.

However, with the count still too close to call following a pummelling from the electorate, and after delivering one of the worst speeches in Australian political history, it’s no sure thing that Turnbull hasn’t “almost survived” rather than “almost died”.

That fear was etched on the nervous faces of those gathered at the Sofitel — on the clean-cut young Liberals, the gents in their finest boat-shoes, the ladies in their most plunging cocktail dresses, and on wizened visages of the party’s friends in the business community.

The fear was there — we’re sure we saw it — on the face of Brian White, the joint chair of real estate agent Ray White. With a live possibility of a Shorten Labor government — one that wants to change the negative gearing arrangements — no wonder White looked anxious.

Former SBS chair Nihal Gupta asked the king of the NSW moderates, Michael Photios, what was going on.

Even Photios, the famously buoyant chairman of lobbying outfit PremierState, was relatively subdued as he digested the violent swing against the Coalition. The baseball bat job on young Wyatt Roy seemed to hit particularly hard.

On arrival, Tony Shepherd, the effervescent businessman who led Tony Abbott’s Commission of Audit, picked up the different vibe to the triumphant party the Liberals threw at the same venue in 2013.

Around the room, groups gathered around television screens, some grumbling about Sky News commentator Peta Credlin, who gave us the most memorable epithet of the campaign: “Mr Harbourside Mansion”.

“She’s enjoying this far too much,” one businessman told us.

Some of the Point Piper set were also along, although it wasn’t the celebration they had hoped.

Seven Network commercial director Bruce McWilliam reacts to the news that Liberal Senator Jamie Briggs had lost his seat. Picture: Hollie Adams

As the wait for Turnbull continued, Seven Network commercial director Bruce McWilliam — a long-time friend and former business partner of Turnbull — passed the time with Michael and Judy McMahon, the owners of the Point Piper set’s favourite Harbourside restaurant, Catalina.

Former Prime Minister John Howard and his wife Janette were late arrivals to the venue at which they had celebrated much success and — on a miserable Saturday night in November 2007 — mourned a historic loss.

Despite the shocking result, the Liberal power couple was equanimity itself — at least compared to the distressed ministerial staffers.

“I honestly don’t know if I still have a job,” one told us.

Some cheered themselves by reading the vicious comment thread underneath the turfed Member for Mayo Jamie Briggs’ concession tweet (some of these being: “SEE YOU IN HELL GASBAG” and “don’t let the door hit you on the way out! And stay off the tables!”).

Conservative-aligned lobbyists — some who had been throwing lavish pre-election parties only days before, and almost all of whom had told their clients that Turnbull would win comfortably — looked understandably worried. This could be bad for business.

Commentators who had called the result spectacularly wrong commiserated with the “Liberal strategists” who had presumably briefed the same incorrect information.

And still the gathered waited for Turnbull.

“Is he coming?” we overheard one businessman ask Liberal President Richard Alston, echoing the frustration of many in the room.

For a while a rumour spread that he wouldn’t. There was growing speculation about the return of “Bad Malcolm”. Was he having a tantrum? Was he refusing to come out?

Promisingly, Turnbull’s Praetorian Guard arrived — exhausted staff from his Prime Minister’s office, who looked shattered by the eight-week campaign, and weathered troops from Tony Nutt’s Liberal’s HQ in Canberra, including Andrew Hirst, who had joined in fellow campaign adviser Ian Hanke’s ritual of shaving off his hair. The campaign went on for so long, they had to shave their heads twice.

Finally an exhausted Turnbull arrived, looking, some thought, not long of this world. Then — with his family, Lucy, Alex and Yvonne, Daisy and James, on stage and at his side — he gave a speech that, we assure you, was as bad in the room as it came across on television.

And as the assembled made for the drinks trays, many wondered — had he just “almost survived”?

Meanwhile in Victoria

On arrival at Gate 1 of the Moonee` Valley Racecourse in Moonee Ponds, deep in the heart of Bill Shorten’s Maribyrnong electorate, the faithful were met by an old-style members’s car park attendant.

“You here for Bill Shorten darl?” he went, before arrivals were waved with a flashing red baton towards a car park and then a small sign that read: “ALP 2016 Election Night Celebrity Room. Please take the Escalators to Level 1”.

Not even DameEdna Everage could be unhappy with that.

For a while there were more Federal Police heavies than volunteers and supporters, with the security detail best dressed for most of the night. Beyond the Feds there were a handful of suits — fleeces and puffers were the order of the night. There were a few footy jumpers too — AFL of course.

Across the betting yard, past empty outdoor seating and a dormant ATM was a stairway up to the Pavilion Room, where Shorten’s family and friends were watching the count.

National Labor secretary ­George Wright (once an employee at Cameron Clyne’s NAB) was nestled at campaign HQ.

At the bar faithful were treated to heavy liquor — Bundy, Jim Beam and special occasion Crownies — embraced by local member for Essendon Danny Pearson. There was even sparkling for the ladies. If you didn’t have a wristband you had to hand over cash for hydration, a point of consternation for the fourth estate.

Eddie McGuire’s state MP brother Frank was an early arrival, charismatic like his sibling, who recently slipped out of Melbourne after the ice bath fiasco. Eddie’s now enjoying the European summer ahead of his billionaire buddy Lindsay Fox’s “conception party”.

Meanwhile, the other McGuire spent much of the night working the Moonee Valley Racecourse, spending time with former indigenous Essendon football legend Michael Long, who was on crutches ahead of a knee reconstruction. The AFL legend has been close to Shorten for 10 years.

Just across from them was the union crowd, led by hardline CFMEU Victorian secretary John Setka, magnificent in his union-issued immaculately pressed lavender dress shirt, complete with CFMEU logo on the back and “official” embroidered on the upper sleeve. Setka was there with his labour lawyer wife Emma Walters, and spent some time locked in deep chat with rail union boss Luba Grigorovitch.

With the Australian Building and Construction Commission looking scotched, Setka and Walters — a former CFMEU organiser who has toyed with running for a seat in the state parliament herself — left just as a triumphant Shorten was arriving.

Former Australian of the Year and mental health advocate Dr Patrick McGorry was low key with family in tow, mingling with staffers like advancer John Preston, volunteers and supporters as the count wore on.

Sustenance was party pies, sausage rolls, mini pizzas, spring rolls and meatballs, which fired the faithful up for the first “Bill, Bill, Bill” chant at 8.30pm.

Then former federal minister Kim Carr arrived, followed by fellow shadow minister Brendan O’Connor.

It was O’Connor — brother of the CFMEU’s national secretary Michael O’Connor — who introduced his leader towards midnight: “We can go to bed knowing Malcolm Turnbull has failed miserably.”

By the end it was all too much for Shorten’s four-year-old daughter Clementine, who held on to mum Chloe and blocked her little ears at the roar of the faithful before running off stage to a safer haven.

By the end of her dad’s rousing words, Clementine was back, tearing across the stage to steal the show with a loving embrace for the ascendant Labor leader.

And then it was time for bed.