It is a muggy Thursday morning in central Queensland and the state opposition leader is telling a man she does not want a child to be eaten by a crocodile.
In normal day-to-day life one could perhaps take it for granted that we do not want children eaten by crocodiles, but this is the campaign trail, where even the most obvious position has to be put on the record.
Annastacia Palaszczuk – pronounced as the anglicised “Pala-shay” much to the chagrin of inner-city lefties in Sydney – is on day 17 of the campaign, and while the media who have been tailing her “the length and breadth” of Queensland as she likes to say, are flagging and grumpy, politicians are not allowed to be.
We are standing by the Fitzroy River where Labor are announcing the expansion of the Crocodile Urban Management Area, one of the zero to low-cost policies they have been resigned to making, lacking the Liberal National party’s hypothetical war chest from the proposal to privatise state assets.
David Raff, from the Rockhampton water-ski club Laurel Banks, is thanking Palaszczuk for the promise to expand the plan which allows crocodiles to be captured and moved humanely if spotted in areas used heavily by humans.
“You’ve got to have eyes in the back of your head [to spot them] but you can’t stop kids having fun, it’s their sport,” he says. “Something has to be done before a kid goes, a kid will go.”
“We definitely don’t want that to happen,” Palaszczuk responds.
In the campaign universe of forced small talk, smiling and nodding for the cameras and never, ever letting your guard down, the fact that you do not want children eaten by crocodiles is a perfectly reasonable thing to make sure you publicly state your position on.
Afterwards I chat to the club’s Andrew Smith, who tells me he spotted a three-metre crocodile not far up the river from where we are standing just two weeks ago.
A middle-aged male journalist’s ears prick up and he barges in, cutting off the conversation I’m having with Smith.
“Three metres! That’s bigger than me!” he barks.
“It’s much bigger than you,” Smith observes.
“Why don’t we shoot the bastards? Crocodiles and people don’t mix. Bam!” the journalist says, either ignorant of or oblivious to my glare.
Raff and Smith chuckle. “We’re not allowed to say that,” they say, almost in unison, looking around.
“Stand closer together, I’m going to put you two on television,” the journalist responds.
Half an hour later we are back on the bus, and what journalists refer to as “the mystery tour” resumes. The ruling LNP have got wind of Labor’s crocodile announcement and a staffer texts a few of the journalists: “LNP have removed 110 crocs across Qld since March 2012. In the three years prior to 2012 Labor removed 13.”
It is not the weirdness of Queensland that has the major parties arguing over who has got rid of the most crocodiles, but the alternative reality that is campaign trails in general.
As a journalist it is a world in which you are ordered to meet at bus stations with no idea where you are going, told to pack bags for X number of nights away with no clue what the destination is, and flown around on private planes.
For a politician or their aides, it is a world in which you are followed around by a group of people who are trying to trip you up verbally, would likely broadcast you doing it physically, and who feel entitled enough to whinge about which private plane you have lined up for them.
My 24 hours with Palaszczuk began the day before the crocodile announcement, after being told via text message to meet at 8.30am sharp for 8.40am departure.
We are ferried to the electorate of Ferny Grove, held by the LNP’s Dale Shuttleworth with a margin of 9.5%. In an average campaign – though I am not sure such a thing exists – this would be seen as a comfortable, perhaps safe, margin.
But the mammoth, unprecedented and likely never-to-be-seen-again-in-our-lifetime swing of almost 16% against Labor at the 2012 election means many of the margins are superficial and the corrective swing, combined with the unpopularity of the Campbell Newman-led LNP government, means Ferny Grove could be a gain for Labor.
We’re told we are going to a rally in a park and when we arrive there are about 30 people assembled holding placards which read “Vote for a better Queensland, put the LNP last and number every square” and “Teaching: the heart of Tafe”.
“Pretend to have a chat,” a photographer orders as Palaszczuk stands with Labor’s candidate Mark Furner. They obey as Palaszczuk says to Furner “you working hard?”. “Yes,” he responds. “That’s what I like to hear,” Palaszczuk says, smiling and nodding.
***
After Ferny Grove we get back to the activity that takes up the most time on the campaign trail: waiting. We return to the city to wait to go to the airport at 3.30pm, though we are not told where we are going. We arrive, then sit inside the lounge waiting for more than hour to board the plane. We are flying north, into very bad weather, and have to wait for some air traffic to clear before takeoff. Once in the air the flight will stretch to 90 minutes from the usual 60 as we try to dodge the storm.
***
In Rockhampton that night we go to the Criterion, an old pub with exposed wood and XXXX beer signs hanging on the wall. There are flickers of recognition of Palaszczuk in the bar and I overhear people explaining to their companions who she is.
She says hello to Bill Byrne, the Labor member for the seat of Rockhampton, one of the seven MPs to hold on to his seat in 2012 despite a swing of almost 14% against Labor in his electorate. “Imagine seeing you here!” one journalist squeals to another as Palaszczuk greets the candidate.
It is not every night the media and the politician they are trailing have dinner together – it is not even every night the entire media contingent has dinner together – but when dining with the politician, everything is strictly off the record.
However, in the age of the ultra-competitive 24-hour news cycle and smartphones, and especially during the election campaign, it is a rare politician who will truly relax, and the script is mostly stuck to.
Palaszczuk, like almost every other politician I’ve ever met, is “astonishingly human”, as my colleague Fred McConnell pus it after his meeting with Campbell Newman. The night ends with nothing to report, even if it had been on the record.
***
The next day the mystery tour takes us 48km out of Rockhampton simply to get photos of Palaszczuk with the Capricornia candidate Brittany Lauga. Photographers and a cameraman walk backwards along a narrow pier as the two do the obligatory oh-so-casual walk and chat. One misstep and it could actually become quite interesting.
Afterwards the media are shuttled to another part of the coast for a press conference, at which Labor announce money from an already announced marine infrastructure fund will go towards building a new boat ramp and foreshore upgrade at Emu Park. Lauga recalls swimming at the beach as a child but says it has since been neglected by the LNP.
Directly behind her, five kids enter the water whooping with delight. Palaszczuk is asked about “cash for access”, everyone files their story, and back to the airport the bus goes, to do more waiting.
But the first stop of the morning was the Fitzroy river. After declaring she does not want children eaten by crocodiles, Palaszczuk walks up to the boatshed to indulge in more forced banter for the cameras.
A child plays with sticks. “Who’s that?” he asks the man standing next to him. “The next premier of Queensland,” the man responds. The kid pauses. “I’ve never seen a crocodile,” he says, almost sadly.
