The Sketch: Rumour dies as tumbleweeds roll through tittle-tattle-free zone

Scott Morrison sends a not-so-­subtle signal. Picture: Gary Ramage

Gossip is dead. Tumbleweed rolls through the corridors of power.

The whispers of intrigue and scandal that used to keep the lights on are slowly running out of gas.

“I guess all I would say is it’s hard to get up to much mischief under house arrest,” one Melbourne-based MP mused.

Another silent victim of the pandemic — Aussies Cafe.

The water cooler of Parliament House is a wasteland. Located in a camera and photography no-go zone, it’s normally the epicentre of networking during sitting weeks.

Premiers, powerbrokers and union bosses are easily spotted sipping on a skinny flat white.

After the Killing Season redux, Julia Gillard and Wayne Swan spent the morning at Aussies, like they were sitting shiva.

But that was then, and this is now.

The chairs are long gone. There’s marks on the floor from the tables where decades of plots have been hatched, matched and dispatched.

Faceless men and women in masks, 1.5m apart, shuffle silently one by one to pick up their takeaway almond milk latte and wraps.

Dedicated tittle-tattlers may brave the spaced tables in the frosty courtyard, but with temps in the minuses this fortnight, they’re few and far between.

One Liberal MP suspects: “The real death of the rumour mill is due to the death of in-person lobbying. You could count on the lobbyists to spread rumours in this building like the rona.”

It’s strictly no hacks allowed in the Canberra Bubble™. Former members and spinners havelost access to the private areas of the building. But, of course, all the building is private now — the ­general public denied a view of COVIDSafe democracy.

One Star Chamber spy suspects “without the boozy events, there is less incidental gossip … but still a bit of targeted stuff”.

In a rare moment of bipartisanship, both sides agree there’s been a marked decrease in dirt.

“Banning Sydney MPs from Canberra pubs has effectively muted Bush Capital stories out of Sin City. Now the only party animals are the Victorians, who can do more in Canberra than they could ever in Melbourne,” an unnamed muckraker claimed.

The Otis Dining Hall (Labor Right’s favourite haunt) is empty. Factions across the board have been forced to cancel regular meetings at well-known eateries China Plate (moderates) and Portia’s (conservatives).

Starved of sightings, some of the most exciting mail to hit our inbox from a senior source was tennis bro Nick Kyrgios dining at Ottoman in Barton “in an electric green jumper with six friends”. Hold the front page.

Anthony Albanese was forced to watch his beloved Rabbitohs play from his parliamentary office, not while cooking his own steak at the Kingo.

Even question time banter has been muted. The masked-up press gallery can only watch from up in the rafters, ensconced in a glass box (that Bronwyn Bishop ironically once designated for women in face coverings) where we can’t hear heckles, insults and asides.

Of course, there are ways around the face-to-face hearsay ban. At least five Morrison ministers signed up to Signal — the ­secret messaging app — in the past week.

Stuck in his seat during question time, Scott Morrison has taken to holding up his phone and pointing at members on the government benches — a not-so-­subtle signal to check their phone for an encrypted message.

One colourful figure around the corridors of power offered a contrary take, on condition of anonymity — gossip has never been in greater demand. “People in lockdown need to know what everyone else is doing and if they can’t find out, they make it up. And it has been nearly six months since Malcolm’s book so stocks of gossip are low.” You can read between the lines on that one.

Final word to a seasoned trader of insider games: “I’m not sure there’s less activity to gossip about — it’s just less visible. After all, ministers are keeping on pushing the envelope of the Turnbull ‘Barnaby Bonk Ban Rule’. But the PM was on to this early and surely that’s why he told us that ‘we’ve got to get out from under the doona’.” Boom-tish.