I have some good news: I decided to give the Budget lock-up a miss this year. We have taken off for warmer climes and it wasn’t worth postponing our trip.

I’m not quite sure how many consecutive lock-ups I’ve been to. I’m not even sure there was one in the depths of the pandemic – or governmental overreaction to Covid, to be precise. I did go to one in Brisbane and I have been to two in Melbourne. Before that, it had been exclusively conducted in the bowels of Parliament House in Canberra.

These more recent confabs have been organised by the media outlets themselves. The ones I attended in Melbourne were held in the cafeteria of the Herald and Weekly Times building and only News Corp journalists were there. In Canberra, it had been an across-the-board affair, with all the media outlets piled into the one space containing a few separate rooms.

Everyone looks forward (although not me) to the staged processions of the relevant ministers – Treasurer, Finance Minister, etc, accompanied by senior bureaucrats – talking to favoured journalists and ‘answering’ questions. There is always a throng of reporters and editors surrounding these temporary VIPs, jostling to be noticed and heard. With the decentralisation of the lock-up, this ritual has doubtless lost some of its brio.

There is also a smattering of junior Treasury officials, most of whom look as though they should still be at school, eager to answer – OK, attempt to answer – any questions that the journalists might have. Can I just say, it must be a very boring day for these young’uns, a bit like being an invigilator at an exam. I would occasionally ask a cheeky question or two, but when I saw the colour drain from their faces, I decided to give it a miss. It’s not as if I ever learnt anything.

Having mates who worked at the old Fairfax, I would have no compunction in wandering into their room, although I’m pretty sure there was a bit of tut-tutting going on. I never seemed to learn that completing a column early and then filing really left a lot of time to fill in. It’s not until the Treasurer rises to read the Budget Speech at 7.30 pm that the gaggle of journalists and other hangers-on are released.

But last year’s event really made me fear that, unless something changed, I ran the risk of doing a Finchy. You know what I mean – loudly yelling out my real opinions while my hair becomes wet with sweat. I could even don a trench coat to imitate that famous ‘I’m as mad as hell’ scene from the film Network. It just wouldn’t be a good look.

Even so, I do have some wonderful memories of some previous Budget lock-ups. A particular favourite was 2012 when the Labor government was in serial decline and was desperate for some favourable commentary.

It’s not often that the first few sentences of the Budget Speech induce a rowdy guffaw of laughter in the House. But when then-treasurer, Wayne Swan, rose to speak, this is precisely what happened.

‘The four years of surpluses I announce tonight are a powerful endorsement of the strength of our economy, resilience of our people, and success of our policies. In an uncertain and fast changing world, we walk tall – as a nation confidently living within its means. This Budget delivers a surplus this coming year, on time, as promised, and surpluses each year after that, strengthening over time.’ (I presume whoever wrote that guff – was it Jimbo? – was taken out the back and dealt with appropriately.)

Of course, as events panned out, there was not one surplus, let alone four years of surpluses. Perhaps he was walking just a little bit too tall in this uncertain and fast-changing world? That particular Budget was also particularly memorable for the chart given to baying hacks looking for a new angle. Of course, we all ended up getting copies but that probably was a bad idea, particularly when it fell into my hands – I don’t get called Miss Picky for nothing.

This chart purported to demonstrate that Labor’s NDIS and Gonski National Plan for School Improvement were fully funded over a ten-year period. Laugh, I thought I’d die.

Evidently the combination of the Medicare Levy Fund drawdowns and long-term savings (which included tax increases because, in Swanny’s world, saves equaled tax increases) meant that by 2020-21, the costs would be covered and would be fully funded thereafter.

But here’s the thing, Labor thought these two huge spending programs would cost less than $17 billion in total this financial year. Just to spoil the illusion, the spending on the NDIS alone will be close to $40 billion. This chart wasn’t so much a fiscal mistake as a deliberate fairy story put about to deter naive (and sometimes inexperienced) journalists from asking any questions about the wisdom of these runaway spending programs.

Mind you, the 2016 Budget lock-up was also a chart-topper with Scotty from Marketing having taken the reins as chief money man. You may recall that this was the year in which a whole lot of unexpected changes to the rules (and taxation) of superannuation were announced, thereby doing core members of the Liberal party right in the eye. Apart from the fact that none of the politicians or the bureaucrats could actually explain how the changes would work, what was Morrison thinking?

There was also the ‘Cry Me a River’ lock-up the next year. The Budget had unexpectedly included a tax levy on the four big banks and Macquarie. When asked about this – in my room – Morrison replied that no one likes the banks and they may just as well ‘cry me a river’.

I kick myself now for thinking, even for just a while, that perhaps Morrison could have been a good prime minister. Making important tax policy changes on the basis of what you think are voters’ opinions of particular companies is so far from best practice, it’s ridiculous.

So no, I don’t regret missing the lock-up. Given that all governments these days have very bad cases of dropsy – a ‘technical’ term for dropping all the relevant information to chosen journalists prior to an event – it’s actually hard to find something new or interesting to write about on the actual day.