Great big new axe

FOR the odd moment yesterday, with the help of some strategic squinting and some selective hearing, it was possible to make believe nothing had changed.

FOR the odd moment yesterday, with the help of some strategic squinting and some selective hearing, it was possible to make believe nothing had changed.

In question time, Kevin Rudd spent much of his time furiously scribbling notes and massaging his temples, Tony Abbott slipped in an early query about that great big new tax, and the PM spoke a great deal about working families, prefacing more sentences than would normally be considered natural with "Can I say?" Except of course, the PM was Julia Gillard and Rudd was up the back in the naughty seat and, despite sitting close to the comforting bulk of Dick Adams, cut a figure even more forlorn than Malcolm Turnbull does whenever Wilson Tuckey's bellowed interjections muss up his hair. For continuity's sake, we may think of Rudd as the victim of Labor's great big new axe.

Tweets ahead

THOSE craving a gentler transition to the new regime could always turn to the first edition of Sydney's The Daily Telegraph yesterday, which held out hope for the Kevistas under the front-page headline Rudd clings to power: "PM survives backroom push for Gillard -- for now . . . Julia Gillard last night stuck by her leader Kevin Rudd after an attempt by mid-ranking Labor figures to get her to mount a challenge for the nation's top job." Ah, well. Our colleague Samantha Maiden broke the news, via the concise magic of Twitter, that Rudd had made way for Gillard; a fine example of why the microblogging site is so worthwhile. Not falling into quite the same category was a tweet from NSW Premier Kristina Keneally, that invited followers to check out the video of her offering congratulations to the new PM. We resisted, somehow.

Granite Man

ONE of life's small details that escaped us until yesterday was just how well Wayne Swan plays the role of hard bastard henchman. Standing by Gillard's side during the press conference that marked the dawn of the ranga reign, the front bench's surviving Nambourine Man was impeccably and unflappably granite-faced while Gillard emphasised her points with that head motion that makes her look like she's shovelling snow off a footpath with her chin. Even when she reminded everyone that Swan was now the nation's freshly minted Deputy PM, Swan's mouth flickered only slightly, acting out some dim, vestigial memory of a smile. But even Swan cracked in the end, and gazed lovingly into Gillard's eyes as he pronounced her a "intelligent, strong, competent and compassionate leader". And when a reporter asked him when he'd first contemplated supporting Gillard, he answered, "yesterday", then stepped back with a face like he'd just woken from a weird dream, as if it was only when hearing himself say it out loud that he realised the magnitude of what had happened.

Take the hint

WHEN Lindsay Tanner pulled the pin yesterday, the often exasperated but otherwise indefatigable Speaker Harry Jenkins sounded as if he might go the Rudd route and choke up: "On a day of twists and turns when I thought I'd seen everything, the shock of this announcement has caught me unawares." He spoke for many. Luckily, things returned to normal when the Iron Monk, in the midst of a touching tribute to Tanner, noted there were political families across Australia wishing their family member in parliament would follow Tanner's example, a lone interjection sounded from the government benches: "Now's your chance."

Beijing beckons

IN the Middle Kingdom of Rodent Copulators, Australian embassy staff in Beijing woke at 7am to watch the Rudd execution and began to tremble as they considered the possibility that Gillard may see China as a good home for him. Australia's ambassador to China, Geoff Raby, who served with Rudd in the Beijing embassy during the 1980s, completed his three-year term in February but remains in the post as something of a caretaker. Raby, like many other ambassadors, has been left in limbo by Rudd who has micro-managed foreign affairs from his own office and not bothered to let Raby and others know how long they would be left in place. Now, embassy staff are concerned Rudd might be sent their way.

Menacing Dennis

BETWEEN her impeccable press conference and almost Keatingesque putdowns/creative interactions/verbal euthanasia (delete where applicable) of Julie Bishop and Joe Hockey in question time, Prime Minister Gillard only really put a foot wrong once: trying to cramp the style of our colleague and unofficial Harry Jenkins understudy, Dennis Shanahan. "Dennis," she began during her presser, "speaking to you, I should also indicate that it is my clear intention as Prime Minister to make it unlawful to indicate as a de facto speaker what should happen during question time from the press gallery, if you could bear that in mind in your conduct later today." Shanahan was pleasingly to the point when Strewth asked him to frame a response to this flexing of power: "It's an outrage. I won't stand for it." Certainly not. A proper speaker always sits.