Worse than kids at kindy

The citizenship scandal doesn’t pass the pub test with Ocker voters.

My sister arrived from Australia yesterday for a visit, so of course I assailed her immediately with reckons about the current state of Aussie politics. ‘‘Strewth, don’t talk to me about that lot,’’ (these were not her exact words; no Aussie actually ever says ‘‘strewth’’). ‘‘They’re worse than a bunch of kids at kindy.’’

Like many Australians, she would like to see the country’s leaders get on with the job they were elected to do (decide stuff in Parliament) rather than faff about with non-binding postal votes on issues like same-sex marriage, and this week’s constitutional balls-up is just another embarrassment.

While (now former) Deputy Prime Minister Barnaby Joyce dons a hair shirt and begs his constituents’ forgiveness in preparation for the byelection that should return him to Parliament in the blink of an eye, ordinary Australians are smelling a rat. What the heck has the fact that a pollie’s dad used to be a K-one-W-one got to do with the business of government, they’re asking, and why has this distraction been allowed to dominate discourse for so long? This is not just an entertaining scrap for Kiwis to watch from across the ditch, of course. As we know, some months in, the story developed into a full-blown Trans Tasman diplomatic skirmish when NZ Labour MP Chris Hipkins was accused of colluding with an Aussie comrade to expose Joyce’s dual citizenship.

The Fairfax journalist in Sydney who broke the Joyce story told me at the time it was as a result of his own digging that questions were asked. Whichever version is true, it raised the ire of Foreign Minister Julie Bishop, who said she’d find it hard to trust a Labour Government in New Zealand, and then was roasted by all and sundry for over-reacting. Meanwhile the bloke who started it all has finally broken cover after months of silence, and given an interview that still doesn’t provide many answers.

West Australian barrister John Cameron says he was actually gunning for the scalps of former Prime Ministers Julia Gillard and Tony Abbott when he started his quest, but neither the British authorities nor the Australian High Court were paying him much attention. This must have been most irksome for a barrister with such a ‘‘keen interest in constitutional law,’’ and an ego to match.

Thus scorned, (and merrily mangling his

metaphors) he turned to the ‘‘low lying fruit’’ that Greens senator Scott Ludlum represented, because it was easier to get the information from New Zealand. It’s still unclear how he did that, as the details of Ludlum’s citizenship were not publicly searchable.

New Zealanders, or part-or-former New Zealanders, have subsequently played a big part in this pulp novel tale, some of them even willingly inserting themselves into the narrative for the purposes of point-scoring. Senator Derryn Hinch, another former Kiwi, crowed that Cameron was actually after him, not Scott Ludlum, when Ludlum became the first to fall to Section 44 of the Australian Constitution back in July.

Cameron claims it shows ‘‘a crying need for an independent commission on corruption.’’

This has not passed the pub test with Australian voters. The comments sections of

Aussie news outlets show a smattering of those who insist rules is rules. But most are appalled at the giant waste of money.

Here’s a sample: ‘‘The High Court challenge cost millions, the by-elections will cost hundreds of thousands, Barnaby Joyce will be back in a few weeks, all for one lawyer’s ego?’’

‘‘How were the actions of Joyce corrupt? Really mate, get a life.’’

But my favourite is this one, which I reckon cuts right to the heart of the issue. ‘‘We have entire parties that are beholden to foreign interests and despise Australia and its people. I’d be happy if the entire parliament was from Mars, as long as they were acting in our best interest.’’

In the vernacular of the country of my birth, I think the writer ‘‘hopes his chooks turn into emus and kick his dunny down.’’

Ali Mau is the host of RadioLIVE Drive, 3-6pm weekdays.