"He speaks to the werewolf in us on nights when the moon comes too close." When Hunter S. Thompson wrote this for
Rolling Stone magazine while covering the 1972 presidential campaign, he was, of course, referring to Richard Nixon.
The other night as I watched the most recent and best documentary about one of America's more important journalists, Gonzo: The Life and Work of Dr Hunter S. Thompson, these words jumped out at me when the narrator, Johnny Depp, read them.
ForThompson might just as easily have been referring to John Howard circa2001-2007, when our then prime minister relentlessly dog-whistled onthe issues that played to Australia's greatest fears and prejudices.
And that got me thinking further. What might the good doctor have made of Kevin Rudd?
Maybesomething like: don't be suckered by the Beatles haircut. Thispolitician operates with the eye of an assassin and the cruel, ruthlessefficiency of a pest controller. Blink and he'll rip your lungs out.You've got to wonder if the whole down-home cowpoke thing is anelaborate hoax … until you see him among the famous. Then you realisethat, like any geek with the good fortune and circumstance to rubshoulders with celebrity, he's addicted. And you just can't fake that.
(No apologies to the late Dr Thompson, scattered as he is somewhere over the rocky crevices of Owl Farm, Woody Creek, Colorado.)
Tryas I might to do otherwise, I just keep finding myself in furiousagreement with myself on this aspect of Rudd's personality.
Heis hooked on celebrity. Not in the narcissistic way so many otherfamous people are, whereby they have to move among celebrity becausethey believe that's the place that they, too, belong. He's nothing likeTony Blair when the luvvies started dropping in to raid the cellar atNo. 10. Blair seemed perfectly at ease, as if Jarvis Cocker and theGallagher boys, Bono and that guy from Simply Red, Glenda Jackson andher mates had all just assumed their rightful places in his sittingroom.
Not our PM. He looks like he can't believe his luck,in a dry-mouthed and sweaty-palmed sort of way, that the primeministership affords him entree to all these famous figures. It's as ifhe has a sense of otherness from fame, even though he too is famous bydent of his position.
Perhaps this explains why he's sofabulously indiscreet. And so the cameras were poised when he visitedCate Blanchett moments after she gave birth recently.
Andso he blabbed to the media in August that he was sitting so close toGeorge W. Bush and former Russian president Vladimir Putin at theOlympics opening ceremony that he heard their heated argument. The factthat big ears decided to breathlessly spill the beans to a Chinesemedia outlet, Beijing Today, only adds to what some might consider hisrather disarming nerdy-ness.
Memo Barack: stay mute and lethim make the jokes over dinner. Finally, be warned — the jokes arepretty bad, if recent form is a yardstick.
Take Melbourne Cup eve.
Journalist: "Who are you backing in the Cup tomorrow?"
PM:"On the Cup, well, if you have heard from the year 2s here at Bulimba(school), they've been checking out the location of the local TAB. Ithink the Cup is an important event for all of us and my tip for youall is Zipping. (Long pause.) You might ask why I've chosen Zipping?"
Journalist: "Why have you chosen Zipping?"
PM:"Why have I chosen Zipping, Lane? The bookmakers have it at seventhfavourite, and that's no particular reason. But can I say that why Ihave chosen Zipping, because it's time to zip."
And with that he was gone.
Ruddis often criticised from within his party for being something of analoof control-freak, condescending to those less intelligent (whichincludes much of the population) and utterly intolerant of dissent.What are we, then, to make of the other man who appears fascinated withtrivial aspects of the powerful and the famous, and who loves a joke —often at his own expense — in public? It's hard not to conclude thatthe self-effacing wise-cracking is part of an over-correction — as if apress secretary has advised him to work on showing a more roundedpublic persona.
New prime ministers take a while to find their voice, to hit the right notes of gravitas and accessibility.
Rudd,however, is taking longer than most, not least when it comes to gettingused to the new company he must keep. It's time someone told the guy torelax a little.
Paul Daley is The Sunday Age's national political columnist.