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National focus has been on beetroot lately but spare a thought for the poor lettuce.
Limited shelf life. Often flavourless. More often limp. And not much substance either. Mostly water held together by fibre.
I'm not talking about the iceberg, cos and oak leaf you find in the supermarket, rather the flavourless variety of politician you encounter in federal Parliament.
The lettuce was a measure of Liz Truss's political life expectancy employed by a UK newspaper after the former PM blew up the British economy with disastrous tax cuts for the wealthy. That paper predicted an unrefrigerated lettuce would outlast Truss. It did.
Truss was rolled, replaced by Rishi Sunak, all dressing and no leaf.
One local political lettuce has stood out this week: Immigration Minister Andrew Giles. He hasn't keeled over yet but has been wilting under sustained questioning from his shadow Dan Tehan, in what has been slow, monotonous torture.
The Opposition attack has three motivations.
First, to highlight fumbling in the lead-up to - and following - the High Court's ruling that indefinite detention of people who had no prospect of deportation was unlawful.
Second, and probably more important, to deflect serious questions about the handling of the portfolio by the former minister for Home Affairs and foreign au pairs, Peter Dutton.
Third, to change the subject from tax cuts.
Having a lettuce up on his feet, mumbling unconvincingly all through question time, suits the Opposition perfectly, especially when the issue stokes base fears about community safety (somewhat irrationally given thousands of hardcore criminals are released into the community every year on parole or once they've done their time).
It feeds into the narrative that Labor is weak on immigration.
Politics works in mysterious ways - especially Labor's factional politics - but after his bland performance, it's hard to imagine Giles, nice fellow that he might be, making it through the next Cabinet reshuffle. A tough gig like immigration needs a tough operator. A Clare O'Neil.
Of course, lettuces aren't restricted to one side of politics. Just like soggy Jatz, every party has them, generally on the back bench. You know when they're electorally vulnerable because they're placed behind the big kids, to nod and guffaw in the background for the camera. To remind their constituents they're there.
The seat of Gilmore comes to mind. Its MP Fiona Phillips is suddenly visible, no doubt thanks to her threadbare margin of just 373 votes. Her predecessor Ann Sudmalis was similarly seated before she pulled the pin on her political career as Liberal MP.
Sometimes, the lettuces are right there on the front bench.
Sussan "Rollback" Ley is an outlier in the lettuce world; a radicchio, bitter and too often mistaken for red cabbage and left in the bottom of the salad bowl. Just like her sweeter, crisper cousins, her shelf-life is limited.
I mused on this the other day during a discussion about possible contenders for the Liberal leadership should Pontiac Pete ever step aside.
Angus Taylor? "No one's home, light's not even on."
Andrew Hastie? "Too hawkish. Wants to go to war with everyone."
Paul Fletcher? "Too moderate. The right wouldn't cop him."
Sussan Ley? "Wouldn't outlast Liz Truss's lettuce."
HAVE YOUR SAY: Will Andrew Giles last as Immigration Minister? Should the portfolio be handed to Clare O'Neil? Who in the Liberal Party would make a credible alternative leader? What's your favourite type of lettuce? Email us: echidna@theechidna.com.au
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IN CASE YOU MISSED IT:
- Services Australia executives have been asked how long they take to use the bathroom, as senators take the agency to task over reports staff are being reprimanded if they are exceeding timed breaks. The line of questioning from ACT independent senator David Pocock in estimates saw Services Australia deputy chief executive office Jarrod Howard reveal he had to tell his boss he had a kidney stent inserted last year.
- Sporting codes should enforce a standard two-week acclimatisation period when players return to training, after an up-and-coming NRL player's pre-season death, an inquest has heard. It was well-known there was a high risk of exertional heat stroke and heat illness in the first five days after players restarted training, specialist acute-care physician Simon Quilty said.
- Barnaby Joyce has been urged to take leave after the former deputy prime minister "embarrassed himself" when he was filmed lying on a Canberra pavement. Nationals leader David Littleproud confirmed the member for New England had been asked to take leave.
THEY SAID IT: "It is said that the effect of eating too much lettuce is 'soporific'." - Beatrix Potter
YOU SAID IT: Calls from work after hours are one thing but there's a raft of other intrusions we'd like to disconnect from.
"I am so happy with the new legislation about disconnecting," writes Lee. "My boss's views are that we are available 24-7 and the work phone will be with me always. I can't imagine this will change but now I have the ability to say no and if she tells me it will impact my work opportunities (which is always the threat), I can point her to the legislation. In saying that, the robo calls are annoying. I now block their numbers so I don't have to keep getting them."
Arthur writes: "The government is trying to replace goodwill, common sense and fair play with rules and regulations. If unexpected calls exceed one a month or something like that the award should include provision for adequate fair compensation for interruption to one's privacy. I think this new regulation is overkill and better relations and understanding between employer and employee would be a far better approach."
"Your quite comprehensive list of modern-day annoyances immediately reminded me of the song from Gilbert and Sullivan's The Mikado: 'I've got a little list - they'd none of them be missed'," writes Roger.
Samantha writes: "I am more likely to text the boss outside of hours should something pop up that affects the next working day. However, on the flip side, how does a boss ask for extra workers to come in urgently if they are not allowed to contact them? Does it mean they close their business for the day?"
"As one on the upside of 75, it never ceases to amaze, disgust and alarm me that there are so many people out there who have nothing better to do than to invade my privacy by phone, email, etc," writes Helen. "Some of the phone callers sound so scarily convincing. We never answer our phones, landline or mobiles until we know who it is. If the caller hangs up instead of leaving a message we know they are not genuine."
Sue writes: "That out-of-hours phone call might not be too bad if it came with a minimum of an hour's pay for the interruption of personal time."
"Horses for courses, John. I'm a relief teacher and get calls for work at 6.30am and pm," writes Bruce.