With the death of Muhammad Ali, and the widespread reproduction of the famous 1965 photo of him standing over a cowering Sonny Liston, political spectators surely could not help but notice the disappointing contrast between such a decisive fighter and the current timid bout between campaigning lightweights Malcolm Turnbull and Bill Shorten.

Where Ali would famously taunt, tease, mock, ridicule, endlessly bignote himself and then go in for the killer punch (and all that before he got anywhere near the boxing ring), the contest between our two national leaders is a dreary, uninspiring, bloodless affair more akin to a game of tiddlywinks between Bjorn Borg and Pete Sampras. Leave your passions at the door.

Those with even a smattering of political bloodlust no doubt yearn for the more primitive, out-for-the-count approach of another (slightly less famous) heavyweight boxer of modest height and reach, one Anthony John Abbott. Regardless of how dire the polls were for much of Mr Abbott’s time as Prime Minister, there can be no doubting that by this stage in the election he would have had the slippery Bill Shorten pinned to the ropes, battered, bruised and bleeding profusely, primed for the KO. And that’s because Mr Abbott would not have been afraid to line his gloves with the heavy lead weights of stopping the boats, fighting the unions, and ‘five new taxes’. With such weapons at the Coalition’s disposal, and the woeful record of Labor in government, it beggars belief that Mr Shorten is not only still standing, but is even being touted in some quarters as a contender for the title.

Mr Turnbull and his campaign team appear to have embarked upon a bold experiment of ‘making nice’ (as our American cousins say) during this election campaign. So far, this is a touchy-feely affair, where both leaders are seeking to appear ‘reasonable’ and – heaven forbid – polite. It’s almost as if Mr Turnbull decided to bore his way back into the Lodge. If the experiment works, it will reshape the approach by all sides to future campaigns. Certainly, the public have long decried the aggressive, masculine, even feral style of many a campaign. But the chances are that this tepid approach will only serve to confuse the electorate, and indeed encourage many to seek an outlet for their emotions among other, more maverick, contestants – particularly in the senate.

Conservatives holding their breath for a full-fronted, relentless attack on, say, the certainty that the boats will begin again under a Shorten government; or a passionate assault on the values espoused in, say, the Safe Schools rubbish; or Mr Shorten being pummelled to within an inch of his life on, say, union corruption, will soon be turning bright blue. Mr Turnbull is clearly shying away from landing the necessary killer punches; preferring to put his efforts into convincing the public how much he is ‘loved’.

But, as Muhammad Ali demonstrated throughout his long career, you can still be loved, charismatic, elegant, gentlemanly, poetic even, but when it comes to taking down your opponents, you don’t hesitate: you rumble in the jungle. For Mr Turnbull it’s not good enough just to dance like a Wentworth butterfly. He must learn how to sting like a Warringah bee.

Thawley Essay Prize 2016

Sharpen your pens, your iPads, your laptops and your wits; it’s time to explore your inner Thawley.

For the third year running, The Spectator Australia Thawley Essay prize offers a very healthy incentive for writers young and old to show off their talents and grace these pages with a worthy winning essay. This year, the judges are the same (former Prime Minister John Howard, Essay Prize sponsor Michael Thawley and Spectator Australia editor Rowan Dean), the prize is the same, (publication, dinner with the aforementioned and a lazy $5,000), but the theme is different.

This year, we ask you to imagine ‘Australia in ten years time’. Your essay can be humourous, deadly serious, imaginative, logical, statistical, a timely warning, completely preposterous or any or all of the above. It’s entirely up to you and your muse.

As before, the length is between 1,000 and 2,000 words. The closing date is September 30th, and further details can be found here.

In 2014, the winner was Daniel Ward with his neatly observed essay on ‘The telegram that saved us from technocracy’, and in 2015 Tony Letford took out the prize with his intriguing tale of ‘Warri and Yatungka’.

Who will it be this year? Time to start writing…

The post Wentworth butterfly appeared first on The Spectator.