How a mullet became a political weapon of choice

When it comes to discussing the intersection of the Labor Party and budget surpluses, the Coalition’s preferred yardstick used to be Wyatt Roy.

The youthful member for Longman would be wheeled out in question time to inquire what his chances were of seeing his first Labor-delivered surplus during his lifetime.

Then along came the 2016 election, taking Roy with it. Clearly a new yardstick was needed, and Josh Frydenberg tried one out yesterday.

Challenged on an element of his budget that had been changed in an about-face of dazzling haste, the Treasurer indicated he’d rather dwell on his much ballyhooed projected surplus. At which point he took a turn for the follicular.

“I can confirm to the house last time Labor delivered a surplus I had a mullet,” he declared, and minds boggled.

“It is long gone now. God only created a few perfect heads and the rest he put hair on.”

Another historical artefact ­offered was the traditional ripple of “Yorick” from opposition benches as Health Minister Greg Hunt approached the dispatch box. As has been explored previously in this space, some Labor MPs find jest in the thought of the name of the fondly remembered Hamlet character attached to the Health Minister’s surname.

Indeed, Jenny Macklin was once persuaded to join in the japery, until she joined the dots and never said it again.

Macklin is to leave parliament and, amid yesterday’s Yorick chorus, backbencher Julian Hill called out sentimentally: “Come on Jenny, one more Yorick.”

Once Yoricked, twice shy, as they say, and Macklin shook her head with vigour.

A different mood was set by Deputy Prime Minister Michael McCormack, who spoke with the air of a man who’s just seen his first bridge: “The age of infrastructure has dawned, it is upon us.” Glory be!

Scott Morrison meanwhile attempted the tricky task of retrofitting a 2006 mockumentary to commentary about carbon credit trading with a former Soviet state: “In Kazakhstan I am sure they are pleased about this. They are thrilled about this. Some may call this a carbon tax, Mr Speaker. I call it the Borat tax, with carbon credits from Kazakhstan. I know what Borat would think of the Labor Party’s thoughts on carbon trading policies.”

Cue the spectacle of the Prime Minister slipping into the guise of Sacha Baron Cohen’s Kazakh journalist character.

It wasn’t the tightest amateur Borat yet delivered — more what you might call a homoeopathic impression — but ScoMo dutifully gave the Borat thumbs-up as he ­delivered the catchphrase: “Verrry nice, verrry nice.”

Labor wasn’t wild about this performance — perhaps they were haunted by a sudden fear the PM’s interest in Borat might lead him to donning a fluorescent mankini.

Or perhaps they were still thinking about that mullet.