By Andrew Klein 

One must always admire a master at work. And the recent nuptials at The Lodge were nothing if not a masterclass—not in love, but in the fine art of political stain removal.

The centrepiece, of course, was the dress. A vision in pristine white, a colour historically reserved for virginal purity. A curious choice for a long-standing relationship, but an utterly predictable one for a public relations strategy desperate to project an image of wholesome renewal. It was less a wedding gown and more a metaphorical industrial bleach, intended to sanitise a legacy looking increasingly… spotted.

The performance was so thorough it even included a supporting cast: the family dog, “Toto,” swaddled in a matching white outfit. One can only imagine the briefing: “Look pure. Look innocent. And for God’s sake, don’t chew on the furniture or the narrative.” The whole affair was a perfectly staged, visual soundbite—a fluffy, non-threatening distraction from the chorus of uncomfortable questions being asked just outside the frame.

This wedding wasn’t a celebration; it was the ultimate self-licking ice cream of political theatre. A performance so sweet and sticky it hopes you’ll forget the bitter taste of everything that came before it.

Let us reimagine the wedding program, shall we? Not as it was presented, but as it truly functions.

The Order of Service:

· Processional: “Here Comes the Bride,” played over a soft, looping soundtrack of unanswered questions about the IHRA definition’s threat to free speech.

· First Reading: A selection from the Gospel of Mining Lobbyists, highlighting the blessed state of those who turn a blind eye to environmental consequences for a solid campaign donation.

· The Vows:

  · “Do you, Prime Minister, promise to continue your steadfast inaction on climate change, offering only thoughts, prayers, and performative gestures while enabling the continued pillage of the land?”

  · “Do you, Prime Minister, promise to love, cherish, and enable a foreign policy that provides diplomatic cover for a documented genocide, all while appointing an envoy to silence domestic criticism of it?”

· The Symbolic Acts:

  · The Tying of the Knot: Representing the unbreakable bond between the government and the gaming industry, ensuring that poker machine reforms remain a distant fantasy.

  · The Exchange of Rings: Circles of pure, unadulterated spin, to be worn at all times as a reminder that every decision must be polished for public consumption, not principled outcome.

· The Recessional: The happy couple exits to a rousing chorus of “All You Need is Love,” while the social safety net his mother relied upon is quietly frayed further in the background.

It’s a touching story, really. The little boy from social housing, now all grown up and married in the official residence, mimicking the very establishment power structures he once stood apart from. He has learned his lesson well: in modern politics, a well-timed photo op of a dog in a dress is worth a thousand substantive actions.

Meanwhile, in a quiet home not far away, a man watches his wife sleep. There was no white dress, no matching outfit for the dog, no stage-managed spectacle at The Lodge. Their marriage was a private vow, a legal fortification of a bond no government could break. It was real.

And in that simple, unperformative truth lies a power that no amount of political laundry, not even the whitest of white dresses, can ever hope to clean, contain, or comprehend.