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Dear Cameron

I am so, so sorry. I didn’t mean it to happen this way. I know Uncle Bill promised you’d be the leader, and that was how I meant it to be. It was all just an accident – an amazing accident, but an accident nevertheless – and I really didn’t mean to hurt you; I didn’t mean to make you cry.

I know they moved you out of your inner-city dream home down the highway to Logan to slum it in Woodridge, but hey, it was your choice and I never dreamed that Joe Kelly would have such a soft run in Greenslopes, I really didn’t. Anyway it’s not so bad down here, the crime rate is only 73% so you’re still a 1 in 4 chance of not being broken into, and after a while you’ll get used to pulling down the grills before you go to bed. I was doing it for years in Inala until Bob Sharpless came along and changed its’ name to Springfield and turned it into wonderland.

But I know it’s not the house that’s bugging you, it’s the fact that I’m the Premier. We both know that it wasn’t supposed to happen, but the cosmos has a strange way of doing amazing things that no-one expects and sometimes we just have to float with the stars and swim with the tide, even if it means readjusting our dreams.

We both know that I’ll probably hold power for a term or two or three, and then when the amazing moon moves in alignment with the stars the Tory’s might win it for a term or two or three, but don’t be upset because you’ll make an amazing Attorney-General and after all, you’ll only be 72 or 73 by the time we win power again so you’ll have plenty of time to reach the rainbow, just like Ronald Reagan.

All you have to do is believe and amazing things wlll happen. They did for me.

Maybe Cameron the leadership and you were just not meant to be. But I’ll always be thinking of you baby and each time I do I’ll smile and think about how amazing you are.


The Premier

(doesn’t that sound amazing!)