Harry Jenkins was cursed with being really good at a really shit job. So good was he at this job, that when he last tried to resign the very people who spent the majority of their time making his job shit wouldn't let him. They even went to the extent of trying to make his job not shit for five whole minutes; they said nice things, they were polite, they flattered, and then they went back to making him want to kill himself.
But cursed he is no more. This morning he successfully tricked somebody into accepting his resignation with no backsies. He's done, and he's managed to serve the Coalition a shit sandwich in the process. But that's not the most important thing for him, the most important thing is: he's not the Speaker anymore.
The amount of patience required to be the Speaker in the House of Representatives, particularly this current House of Representatives, is on a plain of existence few of us can reach. I don't know if Harry meditated, got frequent massages, or had the occasional wristy release behind the big chair, but whatever he did: it worked. How he never stood up and screamed at Pyne to shut his pompous pie hole I will never understand.
How many censure motions did he have to sit through? How many ridiculous and childish question time spit ball fights did he have to adjudicate? Remember, most MPs can just sit back and ignore this stuff when it gets too much, or better yet, leave the chamber. Harry though, not only had to listen to all this shit but because of the peculiar nature of debate in parliament, it was all addressed to him. "Mr. Speaker, I believe the Member for Lyons is talking through his hat Mr. Speaker, and Bob Brown is the Prime Minister Mr. Speaker, and I've spoiled my trousers Mr. Speaker." Literally like a bunch of annoying five year olds telling you about their most recent bathroom adventure.
He sat through all that, and yet he still managed to be funny, withering and to not go completely bat-shit insane. That is probably the greatest single achievement of any elected official during this term of parliament: "Successful maintenance of sanity while babysitting group of contemptuous fuckwits." That should go on his resume.
His replacement will be Peter Slipper, who counts among his many achievements falling asleep in parliament and dressing himself. Parliament will soon resemble that episode of the Simpsons where Ned Flanders takes over as Principle. Rob Oakeshott will be suspended in a cage above the floor of the House of Reps meekly complaining that his waterbowl is empty; Joe Hockey will squirt tomato sauce on his naked torso and happily exclaim that he is forgetting stuff he used to know. In short, parliament will descend even further into a debauched freak show exhibiting the baser elements of the human condition.
We will miss you Harry.
