Julia and the Image Consultant

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,

Julia: Why?

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.

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