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the people, or appointed by the government.’

      ‘As is the current Governor-General,’ remarked Grafton, displaying the kind of knowledge that had made him a professor.

      ‘Yes,’ said Angus, gliding over the unnecessary observation. ‘The second was whether the President should be an executive President like the US President who appoints the Cabinet and runs the operations of government, or simply a ceremonial figure who formally approves the ministers as chosen by the Prime Minister.

      ‘Again, as is the current Governor-General,’ Grafton noted.

      Angus again accepted the gratuitous note with a nod and continued. ‘That meant there were four options on the ballot paper: an Elected Executive President, an Appointed Executive President, an Elected Ceremonial President and an Appointed Ceremonial President.’

      ‘Which is what we have now,’ said Grafton.

      Angus’s chest heaved in a silent sigh, knowing he should have expected this third unsolicited observation. He went on. ‘As might have been expected, no one voted for an Appointed Executive President –’

      ‘Because it makes no bloody sense,’ interrupted Braggadocio, who had slumped down in his high-backed Italian leather chair in terse exasperation. Angus paused deferentially for a second and then went on.

      ‘It was clear that the election of President Thump in the United States turned many people off the idea of an Executive President. So the contest was between an Elected Ceremonial President and an Appointed Ceremonial President. In the end, the Appointed Ceremonial option won by a slim majority.’

      He paused, expecting Grafton to chime in with: ‘In other words, what we basically have now,’ but Grafton remained silent. He was just thinking how the result was really a vote for ‘If it ain’t broke don’t fix it’ – which was a major blow to the many people who were intent on fixing things whether they were broken or not.

      ‘So, what’s the problem?’ asked Grafton, relieved to find that his role was after all just going to be that of a Governor-General under another name.

      ‘They passed the wrong fucking BILL!’ exclaimed Scott Braggadocio, rising from his chair and hammering the air above his head with closed fists.

      Angus waited for the fit to pass and then turned to Grafton and began quietly explaining again: ‘The bill to amend the Constitution was a … substantial document.’

      ‘Two hundred fucking pages,’ spat Scott, now pouring himself a stiff whisky from a bar concealed behind a fake bookshelf.

      ‘And because time was of the essence …’ continued Angus.

      ‘We had to move fast,’ said Scott, coming across and plonking himself down on a chair next to Angus. ‘We didn’t want what happened with Brexit where they had a referendum and then there was all this pressure to have another one because a lot of people didn’t like the result. The Elect-the-President campaigners were already screaming for a recount, saying the referendum was void because the options weren’t clear, blah fucking blah et cetera …’ and he took a substantial swig of single malt.

      Angus waited again to make sure that his boss had finished and then resumed. ‘The upshot was that, to save time, the people drafting the Bill, adapted or, shall we say, borrowed …’

      ‘Cut and pasted is the term!’ interjected the furious PM.

      ‘Yes, basically cut and pasted large portions of the US Constitution into the Bill. Now I hasten to add –’ said Angus, seeing a look of surprise on Grafton’s face, ‘– they were supposed to remove all references to the Executive Function of the President.’

      ‘Such as appointing the Cabinet. You know: Head of Treasury, Head of Defence, Head of Education … the whole damn government,’ said Scott bitterly.

      ‘But somehow, in the rush, that was … overlooked,’ said Angus.

      Seeing Grafton’s incredulous look, he added hastily, ‘Or more likely they did remove them but the wrong version was sent to the printers.’

      ‘And that was the Bill that was passed by the –?’

      ‘By both Houses,’ said Angus.

      ‘No one picked up the mistake?’ asked Grafton.

      ‘Who is going to read a five-kilo slab of legislation?’ railed Scott, holding his hands half a metre apart as if to illustrate the sheer size of the document. ‘It was just supposed to remove any references to the Crown in our laws. Instead, it’s given us a United States-style presidency.’

      It was clear why this was a catastrophe for Scott Braggadocio because it meant that potentially he was no longer the head of the government. It was equally troubling to Grafton because being the functioning head of the government of Australia sounded like an awful lot of work.

      ‘Can’t you just repeal it?’

      Angus and Scott writhed in anxiety. ‘Well, the trouble is, that would involve admitting that it happened,’ said Angus grimacing, ‘which could be … embarrassing.’

      ‘For all parties, presumably,’ said Grafton, ‘given that no one in the House of Representatives or the Senate apparently read the Bill before voting on it.’

      ‘Yes, it would be a bipartisan embarrassment,’ said Scott. ‘The whole profession of politics is already on the nose with the public – which is one of the reasons they want a goddamn President. Something like this would only make them vote for more bloody Independents. It would be disaster for both sides.’

      ‘And,’ added Angus, ‘it would certainly lead to a High Court challenge and that would re-ignite the whole debate …’

      ‘And the Elect-the-President faction would use it to force another referendum,’ added Scott with a sense of finality.

      There was a moment of silence when it seemed as if doom was inevitable. Then Angus leant forward with an up-pointed finger. ‘But there is a solution,’ he said, with a look of optimism tinged with a hint of conspiracy. ‘Under the Act, the President can delegate his powers to anyone he chooses.’

      ‘Meaning,’ said Scott, ‘You can order the Prime Minister to convene the Cabinet and remain the head of the government.’

      Grafton felt a surge of relief. ‘Does that mean that I wouldn’t have to actually …’ He hesitated to say ‘do anything’ and settled on just ‘… govern?’

      ‘That’s right,’ said Scott. ‘We would just go on the way things are with the Prime Minister as the head of the government.’

      ‘Although,’ said Angus, lowering the skyward pointing finger by several degrees, ‘it would still be wise for you as President to retain some executive function.’

      Grafton felt a pang of disappointment. For one shining moment it had seemed the threat of him having to do more than cut the occasional ribbon had been dispelled. Without betraying the qualms that had checked into his stomach, he tactfully asked, ‘Yes, such as … what might that be?’

      ‘Well … the one thing that all the different factions seem to agree on is that the President has a role beyond that of being a figurehead. Almost everyone feels that the President is in a sense responsible for the general mood of the country.’

      Grafton looked over at Scott, who sat sipping his whisky and watching Angus. He was pretty sure the Prime Minister had no interest in this idea at all and would be happy for the President to be kept in a glass case, only to be brought out on special occasions like the best china. Nevertheless, the PM was savvy enough to listen to his policy adviser who was explaining the political advantage of the plan.

      ‘Everyone knows that politicians have to make hard decisions. Politicians know they will be unpopular much of the time – probably most of the time. The President, on the other hand, is the father or mother of the nation. They are not there to build roads or hospitals or balance budgets. Their

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