Sunday Mail Column - Dagwood dogs and jeeves

Questioning the operation of the prime minister's spin doctors

Something is wrong in the Prime Minister’s office. When Kevin Rudd’s media advisers get asked a simple question, they go for the ‘Hollywood’ response. Their immediate reaction seems, without fail, to always be ‘what answer would make “Our Star” look best’?

That they persist with this mode of conduct, despite the fact that they keep getting caught out, makes it all the more perplexing.

The faux Dagwood Dog story of the last week, in which the reputation of the good makers of the Dagwood was so unfairly impugned, is not a big deal in itself.

However this innocuous sausage on a stick certainly adds weight to what is an emerging pattern of what at best is questionable conduct.

In case you missed it, here’s what happened.

Mr Rudd recently attended a rugby match, and on the following day he appeared gaunt, pale and tired when speaking at the NSW Labor Party Conference. Rumours circulated, as they do, and as the chinese-whispers continued, some people speculated that the Prime Minister’s heart troubles (which required surgery fifteen years ago) may have reappeared.

The rumours reached journalists, who posed questions of whether Mr Rudd’s ticker might be on the blink. The advice came back that he had indulged in a “dodgy dagwood dog” at a rugby game leading to a bout of food poisoning.

Fine. Fair enough.

Except that it wasn’t true.

It later emerged that the exclusive corporate box from which Mr Rudd viewed the game didn’t in fact serve Dagwood Dogs. No Dagwood Dogs were available anywhere in ANZ stadium. ANZ stadium management – so offended that their catering facilities had been called into question that they felt the need to clarify this - pointed out that there are no Dagwood Dog facilities anywhere even in the vicinity of ANZ stadium.

Amongst the numerous hors d’oeuvres that were on offer in Mr Rudd’s corporate box was a saucisse de poulet (chicken sausage), hand coated in pastry. One guest inside Mr Rudd’s box has suggested that a very confused person might possibly have mistaken one of these delicacies for a battered sav on a stick.

However the saucisse de poulet wasn’t the culprit. The Prime Minister later clarified that it might in fact have been a gourmet party pie, and then finally said he didn’t recall what he had eaten the night that led to the sickness.

Mr Rudd now claims “When I am handed something, I just stick it in my mouth.”

The problem here is that the original response from Mr Rudd was quite specific. He said it was a “dodgy Dagwood Dog” according to media reports. Nobody would care less about such a simple and unimportant mistake if it wasn’t indicative of a broader experience of Mr Rudd’s office being a bit free and easy with the truth.

During Senate Estimates much was made of Mr Rudd’s butler labelled ‘Jeeves’.

Under questioning from Senators it emerged that when travelling Mr Rudd is accompanied by a travelling assistant, and it was suggested his duties ranged from laying out the Prime Ministerial clothing for the day, to putting a shine in the Prime Ministerial shoes.

Jeeves certainly got a lot of attention, and would have had Mr Rudd’s spin doctors in a tizz.

A Labor Leader at pains to show himself as a man of the people, a champion for working families, can’t be thought to have a butler, especially when petrol prices and grocery prices are soaring.

Following the Jeeves incident, for the PM to admit that he became ill after viewing the rugby from a corporate box indulging in an array of sumptuous hors d’oeuvres wouldn’t help alleviate that image.

The spin doctors’ thought processes seem to have latched on to the idea of a Prime Minister falling prey to a Dagwood Dog at the rugby, to make him look like a man of the people.

In this case, what amounted to a small attempt at dissembling completely backfired.

And what does Mr Rudd do? Well he falls into his holding pattern when caught out – he doesn’t remember specifically, he’s not across the detail, he hasn’t caught up with that issue.

When Mr Rudd was asked about his relationship with convicted felon Brian Burke, he first claimed he had only a passing acquaintance with him. Then in relation to meetings that Mr Burke had set up for Mr Rudd, Mr Rudd first denied any involvement in arranging the event, only to be exposed in emails as having directly corresponded with Mr Burke.

When the Sunrise television program came under fire from a broad spectrum of the community for its plans to feature Mr Rudd in a faux Dawn Service in Vietnam, Mr Rudd first denied any involvement with the offensive stunt. It later emerged that his office had always been fully involved in the planning of the prime time prank.

For a man who apparently works so hard and pays so much attention to detail, Mr Rudd certainly has a very bad memory when he is caught out doing something embarrassing. And a Prime Minister’s Office that instinctively opts for spin as their first response when dealing with minor embarrassments leaves one very troubling question unanswered.

If they are as free and easy with the real story about something as insignificant as a Dagwood Dog, why should we trust them on anything else?