My holiday
Felicity insisted on meeting me at Tullamarine. I said that I didn't mind catching a cab, but you know what the Kennetts are like: can't do enough for you.
Anyway, it was a thrill to see her again. She's still the same old Fliss — only now, of course, she's Victoria's first lady. With Jeff now an exhibit at Madame Tussaud's, Fliss reckons if she ever gets sick of the one at home she can now trade him in on another ... dummy (so she says!).
Isn't that typical of her, eh? Really, she's such a wag.
As for Jeff — my visit proved quite opportune. He's been captain of the good ship Victoria for five years now and, by golly, what a difference he's made to the old place.
Yesiree, the boy from the Beaumaris Sailing Club, who we all thought couldn't cut his own jib, let alone steer a straight course on a flat sea, is now admiral of the fleet. Who would have thought? Even the car number plates mark it with a quaint little slogan — Victoria: Moving Ahead.
I tell you, the place is tickin'.
And as for the new casino and all the development along the Yarra, Melbourne is looking real posh. You wouldn't know it. Everywhere it's build, build, build.
Anyway, Fliss insisted I stay with her and Jeff because she said it all was a touch garish elsewhere. And besides, she wanted me to enjoy some domestic peace and quiet. Since they never seemed to be home, I got plenty of that.
Nonetheless, I managed to catch Jeff at breakfast a few times. Quite frankly, I don't think we hit it off. Oh, he was polite and all, but he wasn't the Jeff I used to know. There seemed a meanness about him.
All he could tell me about was how he was winning and how brow-beating any opposition got him where he is today. I just nodded — after all, I was a guest in his state. It's easy to criticise.
But one event seemed to sum it up for me. On the day he marked his five years as premier, he came down to breakfast still in his pyjamas with a "P" plate strung around his neck.
"How do you like it?", he asked.
"I'm sorry, Jeff", I said, "but the significance of your attire escapes me".
"The 'P'!", he said. "What about the 'P'?"
"It's a nice 'P'", I said. "An important and serviceable 'P'. Every new driver should have such a 'P'."
"Of course", he said impatiently, "that's the old use of the letter 'P', but here in Victoria we can do more with it. What does a 'P' plate mean?"
"The 'P' stands for 'provisional' car licence."
"Not any more — not here, not now — because every car registered in Victoria will now carry a 'P' — back and front. Our 'P' is a special 'P', a 'P' that made us what we are today. Henceforth, 'P' will stand for 'Privatise'. Just think, every vehicle will carry a simple message — Privatise. God, I'm good!"
That's the day I flew home.
By Dave Riley