-Rudd was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Gillard signed it. And Gillard’s name was good upon ‘Change, for anything she chose to put her hand to.
Old Rudd was as dead as a door-nail.
Mind! I don’t mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country’s done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Rudd was as dead as a door-nail.
Gillard knew he was dead? Of course she did. How could it be otherwise? Gillard and he were partners for I don’t know how many years. Gillard was his sole executor, his sole administrator, his sole assign, his sole residuary legatee, his sole friend, and sole mourner. And even Gillard was not so dreadfully cut up by the sad event, but that he was an excellent man of business on the very day of the funeral, and solemnised it with an undoubted bargain.
Of course unlike the classic I allude to above there will be no three shades that come to change Gillard from the unelectable political pariah to something admirable as Dickens did with the uplifting conclusion to his Christmas Carrol. Further Rudd, like Marley. caries far too bigger a chain forged by the follies of his tenure to once again walk among the politically electable. So this is as they say the final week during which Rudd can make a run to burst through the barrier between the political after life and the corporeal plane of the leadership. I think that he actually finds the political after life quite comfortable to be frank and as there seems to be NOTHING that will turn things around for Labor maybe there is some wisdom in him doing just that. If for no other reason than to make Gillard take electoral responsibility for the savage defeat that she as so doggedly worked towards over the last three years.
There will be no richly roasted goose for the Labor party on September 14 only the supper of bitter regrets and recriminations…
We should never forget that the cooks responsible for this unpalatable meal are these two: