It all began last Tuesday morning. I was sitting in my Parliament House office putting the cardboard letters into the clear plastic sleeves on my new red pencil case when Susan suddenly burst in and convened an office meeting. I’d been trying to call her mobile phone for an hour and had left four voice messages asking for help to find an ‘S’, a ‘T’, an ‘E’, and a ‘V’, and was just about to leave another asking if I could use a sideways ‘M’ instead of another ‘E’. Susan told me to put it away and got everyone to gather around the main desk.

She welcomed everyone back for 2010, hoped we’d had a good break, before telling us that it’s going to be our biggest year yet with our biggest ever challenge in the shape of the election campaign. I cut in over the top of her and said that election campaigns certainly are tough because everyone’s paying attention to the Prime Minister and the opposition leader and it’s really hard for everyone else to get media attention even with big stunts, but there have been bigger challenges over the years, such as that time I accidentally ended up in the Senate Economics Committee instead of the Family First OH&S Ergonomics Committee because of a nomination form mix up. Susan said that this election challenge will be bigger, and that there would be no time for pointless stunts this time around because everyone will be flat out trying to get me re-elected using adult strategies.

At about this point I decided to stop Susan from making any more of a fool of herself due to her having one very serious point very seriously wrong. But I didn’t want to put her down in front of everyone so I patted her gently on the head and told her in my nicest voice, “It’s okay, Susan, because I don’t ever have to face an election, remember?”

After pausing and looking at me strangely for a moment, Susan reached over, patted me gently on the head, and asked in a voice dripping with sarcasm, “What did you think, Steve, that you were elected forever?” (“Or at all?” the work experience kid yelled out from the back.)

Seeing as though she didn’t take my subtle hint I decided to try for comedy. I smiled widely, held my arms out to the crowd, and said in a jolly voice, “Well, I didn’t have to do too much in 2007 and I’m still here, aren’t I?” Susan, obviously embarrassed by her foolish error, put her head in her hands and groaned. I rubbed her on the back, shook my head at the assembled staff in apology, and said in a conciliatory tone, “Why don’t you just leave the politics to the politicians, hey, dear?”

When I returned to work a couple of days later (the swelling was pretty bad the first day), and after I had hand-delivered the hand-written letters of apology to the staff, I went to see Nick Xzennophone because I felt quite silly sitting around the office in my son’s oversized Corey Worthington sunglasses (the bruise was on my cheek too.) I asked Nick if he’d started planning for his re-election campaign yet but Nick said he didn’t have to do anything this year and was looking forward to just taking it easy while all the attention was elsewhere. I patted him gently on the head and said in my nicest voice, “You know, Nick …”

After leaving Xzennophone’s office having promised to write apology letters to all of his staff I went and sat at Aussies Cafe and blew a quarter of my pocket money on a single hot chocolate, making sure they knew to make it extra cool so I didn’t burn myself. For the first time in as long as I could remember I felt really, really confused. Susan says that I have to fight this election but Nick says that he doesn’t. Yet we’re both Senators. It just doesn’t make sense. I asked the young girl who made my hot chocolate what was going on, but she didn’t know either. It was time to do some proper investigations.

Full of fierce determination to get to the bottom of this matter, I went back to my office and got on the computer. After I got the work experience kid to show me how to type an ‘@’ symbol, I sent a group email around to all the MPs and Senators I could think of asking them if they had to fight the election this year, and also asking if they had seen my Optimus Prime keyring that I lost last October. The thing about the keyring is, I saw Barnaby with it a few weeks later but he saw me seeing him and shoved it in his pocket with a mean smile on his face and gave me the rude finger. I’m too scared to ask him for it so I’m hoping to shame him into giving it back.

By Monday this week I had received less than a dozen replies to my email. Kevin Rudd’s office confirmed that he was running, as did Tony Abbott’s, although those two were obvious. Xzennophone replied personally and told me that my email had a virus called “Pentecostal Trojan” and all future emails from me would be deleted upon receipt. Barnaby also replied himself and said that he would indeed be going into battle against the evil Decepticons. Blast him to heck. The only other emails I got were from Malcolm Turnbull who said he would confirm or deny closer to the date, and from Peter Costello who said, “Obviously no, you fool.” So four yes, one no, and one maybe. One big pile of confusion and zero rhyme or reason. Is the system insane?

But being the intrepid investigationer that I am, I will not give up until I have clarity. This morning I emailed Steve Bracks, Anna Bligh, Mr Quentin Bryce, and the Queen, asking each of them if they will be up for election later this year. I almost sent one to Ray Martin as well until I remembered at the last moment that he hasn’t been on the telly for ages. Close call.

Until next time.