Bronwyn, a memoir

In early December, when Bronwyn Bishop and I happened to be in Jerusalem at the same time, she took quite the shine to me, as I had loaned her a gentlemanly arm on the cobbled streets and difficult inclines. Subsequently, I had the dubious honour of being dragooned into carrying her shopping — an exercise that effectively stopped me getting into the Old City before sundown for a new pair of Jesus-style sandals. Of camel leather and stoutly soled, at around $20, give or take a little haggling, I buy a pair whenever I am in Israel. Her indifference to my need for summer footwear was striking and, I thought, quite selfish.

In any case, between lamenting how the reduced circumstances of her post-Speaker existence were going to make it difficult to pay for repairs to a rain-damaged patio door, I put it to her that she had me thoroughly stumped.

“How could you have voted for Turnbull when he went out of his way to humiliate you by riding that train to Geelong during the helicopter fiasco?” That jaunt was part of the soon-to-be new PM’s strategy to oust Tony Abbott, who had refused to sack Bishop for living large on the taxpayers’ dollar. No chopper rides for me, Mr Turnbull was in effect proclaiming, I ride the rails with the common folk!

Ms Bishop blamed Peta Credlin for her vote against Abbott, complaining that she had made it impossible get face time with the then-PM. This was the line universally favoured by the coup’s supporters and, as I lugged the swelling impedimentia of Ms Bishop’s newly purchased tops, shoes, jewellery and assorted other items, I recall thinking that Credlin had done her boss a favour by allowing him to run the country without distraction, rather than play the pack horse on his Speaker’s expeditions to Belconnen Mall.

Back in Australia, as it became increasingly clear that Bishop would face difficulties retaining the preselection she has now lost, I read with amazement her claim that she had not apologised for the helicopter jaunt only because Abbott ordered her not to do so. Our conversation in Jerusalem came immediately to mind. Given that she was desperate to excuse her treachery, especially in light of my frankly expressed disdain for Turnbull, I’m sure the Abbott-made-me-do-it line would have surfaced then and there. That she made no mention of Abbott’s alleged instructions, to my mind, speaks volumes.

Bishop will be gone soon from the national stage, with all the time in the world to supervise home repairs — perhaps also to reflect on her failed efforts to ingratiate herself with the man who helped oust her from the Speaker’s chair, then accepted her party room vote, then backed her chief rival in the battle to retain preselection.

In her days of languid obscurity to come, it might even occur to her that loyalty means rather more than those discount cards which stores award to frequent shoppers.

For more on Bishop’s preselection defeat, read Andrew Bolt via the link below.

— roger franklin

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