Malcolm Fraser was ambitious, his chances interchangeable as boxes on ballots. A great divide of a face stares beleaguered at futures, a mind keeping tabs on numbers. A stroke of the pencil and he could have everything he asked for. People, you have to look like you believe in them, they hold your chances in their hand. Funny times, elections, December, July... The sophisticated art of convincing people is followed by the labyrinthine art of convincing yourself, back in the purgatory of Parliament. Critics betray, pundits praise, trolls scorn. No one is a politician until they’ve learned how to lose.
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