Forty (40) years ago, the ALP ran its national conference at what was then called Noah’s Lakeside Hotel, with uranium, Timor, taxation, David Combe and south-west Tasmania prominent in discussions. But, who is this meeting up on the dancefloor after the day’s debates and double-crossings?

It’s Albo, the louche Sydneysider chatting up the pink-painted Julia, the ruthless Melbourne Young Labor operative certain of her destiny, until the pair are disrupted by the besuited (and self-declared be-singleted) Kevin, from Queensland, who is there to help (because that’s what Mummy told him to say to make friends).

Yes, The Wharf Revue: The End of the Wharf As We Know It has just played Canberra, wrapping up a quarter-century of peerless political commentary.

And Jonathan Biggins, Mandy Bishop, Drew Forsythe, Phillip Scott and David Whitney have ended with a banger.

This show doesn’t let up, over almost two hours, leaving many in tears of laughter at the cleverly crafted characters and the wonderful lines, to say nothing of the fine musicianship.

The words come from Biggins (aka Paul Keating, Angus Taylor, Mathias Cormann et ors), Forsythe and Scott (who is Mr Music as well as a writer and player).

This big three got a special standing ovation, led by Bishop and Whitney, inside the one we’d already begun for the five players, on the last night of the final run at Canberra Theatre.

Some highlights?

How about Biggins as “Angus Taylor Swift” in silver mini-skirt and boots belting out an hilarious tune that canvassed subjects various before coming back to the best way out of any predicament: “I make it up!”

Or the triple treat of Whitney as Peter Dutton as Homer Simpson. His mere appearance was enough to have us make so much laughter that he had to wait a long while before his killer lines could be heard.

Or Bishop as Jacquie Lambie, hosting the press gallery’s mid-winter ball with full bogan flourish and accoutrements.

Or, the crowd’s favourite, Forsyth as Hanson, mangling her words, most “self-defecatingly”, mind you, and relating that, in politics, you had to be on the ball all the time. Canberra’s own David Pocock, she condescended, might have achieved this as a Wallaby but he was “more off the ball than on the ball” in the Senate. Had we got that? She challenged us. Pocock was “more off” and what was she? “Moron!” we chorused on queue.

The Australian Democrats (Biggins and Forsyth) made a swingeing comeback as male netballers stripping after a match and rushing off with placards to simultaneously “Free Palestine” and “Defend Israel” at the same rally.

Other all-singing, all-dancing double acts included Gina Rinehart and Clive Palmer, and the over coated, cigar-chomping Joe Hockey-Mathias Cormann 2014 Budget shuffle.

We all come away raving about the lines, but there’s much more to the Wharf than the jokes. The performances are top shelf: the clear delivery, the seamlessness of the music and the mannerisms, the magical mannerisms, even down to the pitch of the shoulders and the walk as the performers exit the scene. For anyone who’s spent a little time around Parliament, these players were the politicians.

Let me end where the show started: the Hon P.J. Keating (Biggins) gave us a little homily about the point of satire being to precipitate some change about the place. “This mob”, about to perform, must then rank as failures because the cavalcade of those they’ve previously skewered and their various successors has just careened on regardless.

I hope the Wharf troupe doesn’t really believe that, because they have moved tens if not hundreds of thousands of hearts over 25 years, revitalising us to be vigilant of those with power.

So, what are we to do now, without them?

According to the American poet Nikki Giovanni, “Just as nature abhors a vacuum, humans resist change. Change will occur; vacuums will be filled.”

I guess she’s right. But filled with what?

We’ve lost a national treasure.

Here’s to hoping that an enterprising publisher realises that here is an historical snapshot as good as any book – and sharper than most.

The collected scripts of The Wharf Revue would sell its head off.

https://johnmenadue.com/political-void-the-end-of-the-wharf/