In an exclusive to this blog, we take you live into the image consultants boudoir, where Prime Minister Gillard is given image and grooming advice.
Image consultant: Now Julia, I really like the white lady funeral look, but we need more pearls,
Consultant: Well we need to make you into Mrs North Shore.
Julia: But they’re all safe liberal seats. I mean Maxine can outpearl me any day but she’s no match for a liberal tennis player.
Consultant: But we want you to look a little less boganette. And that means one thing: less bling.
Julia: So less bling, more string. I think I can manage that.
Consultant: Good. Now, let’s accessorise those steely Machiavellian eyes.
Julia: Steady. Just because I happen to have excellent knife skills is no reason to be rude.
Consultant: Hold on darls, we’ll talk combat weaponry in a minny. But let’s get some accessories going to represent the glorious country we have in some of marginal seats.
Julia: I just need a few things to go with my White Lady Pantsuits.
Consultant: Darls, we can do better. I’m thinking croc handbag from Bob Katter’s croc farm.
Julia: He has a croc farm?
Consultant: Why do you think he needs all those bananas? And Tony Windsor, Tamworth. I thinking country musak, perhaps a guitar, display your country cred.
Julia: I don’t have any country cred. I’m from Altona. I’m not lugging a guitar around.
Consultant: It’s just a light one, you won’t notice it after a while. And as for Port Macquarie, well it’s a shame, between you and me, Jules that you can’t just carry around that yummy Mr Oakeshott. I mean, does he work out or what?
Julia: That would be stalking. Besides he’s married.
Consultant: Well, I’m thinking given he’s a surfy kayaker, connected to the water and all that, blonde streaks, a dab of fake tan.
Julia: But I’m peaches and cream.
Consultant: Darls, peaches and scream more like it. No, it would be tasteful. Just a seachange shade of something a little beachfrontage. You’ll love it, truly. Hand me that spraycan darls. Besides that nice Tony Abbott is a bit of a surfy dude isn’t he. If you can’t get Oakeshott, you’ll be in with a chance with him.
Julia: (to herself) where’s my nail file. A well-aimed blow to the temples should do it.