Power pools in the blandest of places. I’m shambling aimlessly around a hotel foyer that could be any hotel in any country. The urn coffee tastes exactly like it always does, everywhere. Across the room, a former Attorney-General and the Member for Bruce are poring over maps of their electorates. The Member for Melbourne walks in, grabs a seat, and starts checking his iPhone. A nattily-dressed Liberal apparatchik takes a phone call: ‘Oh, I’m just here conferring with some of our Coalition partners, actually.’

I recently turned 40. The political staffers suddenly look unsettlingly young. The even younger Australian Electoral Commission worker in charge of the sound recording is wearing nicer cufflinks than me. I was that guy once. Dress for the job you’re still not quite sure you want.