Last Wednesday night the phone rang. It was Nick Xzennophone, and before I could say anything he shouted, “Spill!”

“I know,” I replied. “There’s Milo everywhere and Susan’s furious with me.”

“No, there’s a spill on for the Labor leadership!” Nick said. “I’ve been making some phone calls and I reckon you’ve got the numbers to have a crack.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Really.”

I was gobsmacked. How far a simple boy from Resevoir had come; from engineer to accountant to Prime Minister of Australia. It was the proudest moment of my life and I was determined not to let the chance slip away.

“What should I do?” I asked Xzennophone.

“Leave the campaigning to me,” he said. “You just worry about the vote tomorrow. Make sure you’re there shaking hands and networking. Wear something striking.”

“Okay,” I said. “Where’s the vote?”

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