In a perfect world, Kevin Rudd would not be campaigning for election but visiting an analyst. Therapy is the treatment of our age for those the ancient Greeks saw as tragic heroes, personalities at once sparkling and deeply dysfunctional. But an election campaign it is, with the Australian people as the judge and jury, and
‘I heard this grunting and groaning and thought it was the tennis.’
‘It’s not surrender, it’s quantitative appeasing.’
‘Phwoar! She’s hot.’
‘Be careful what you say. I think we’re being monitored.’
‘Look! Ikea do a round one that sits up to 150 knights, good and true.’
‘Now print your ticket and boarding pass. If you have a 3D printer, print your own aeroplane and don’t bother us again.’
‘That blinding light on the road to Damascus — turns out it was a surface-to-air missile.’
‘You’re not entited to a sense of entitlement.’
‘Can you keep a secret, Mr Snowden?’
‘Some more of that genetically modified spinach, please.’
‘Just going for a leak.’
‘It’s a really great time to be on the High Street.’
‘It’s a request for asylum from Charles Saatchi.’
‘That noise in your car — it was rap.’
We’ve only just begun Sir: In Ross Clark’s article ‘Cuts, what cuts?’ (22 June), he suggested that I was boasting about saving the taxpayer £5.5 billion. It’s true: I’m proud of my department’s Efficiency and Reform Group and the work of civil servants across Whitehall who have sliced out wasteful spending. But the figures he