I've sort of tried (not really very hard at all) not to talk politics here, both because some of my dearest, most wonderful friends are Libs, and in light of the sort of work I do. You know ...
So we were talking this morning, as I ironed my shirt to go muralling and David packed Maggie and me a lunch, about Kerryn Goldsworthy's post this morning, in which she mused about what the words "the Prime Minister, Tony Abbott" would mean to her and her loved ones.
And to the country, and its image overseas.
And I said that after reading that post, I'd been wondering about my absolute dream fantasy PM.
I'm rather fancying someone who looks like Hugh Jackman, has a fabulous sense of humour, a couple of languages, a firm and intellectually sound grasp on world politics and economics, a great sense of personal style, humanitarian leanings, enormous sympathy for the arts, and the balls to tell the mining industry that they'll do what they are bloody well told to.
David scoffed and said: "Well, my fantasy PM is erudite, well-thought-through, worked her own way up in the world, loves her footy, and looks like Tilda Swinton."