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        On a wet Monday morning, I was pacing up and down the lounge room, wondering what to do next.   The few weeks until the election loomed ahead, demanding a program to organise my time.   There was a calendar pinned above the telephone wall with a countdown of days left to campaign:   blank spaces to fill with activity.

        The sound of a motorbike stopped in the street outside our gate,   Through the fogged up windows I could see a bulky figure dismount and approach the house.   I opened the kitchen door to find a leather clad bikie, dripping water on the step.   The helmet came off, revealing a girls face.   She introduced herself:

        "My name is Donna Yen.   I'm an unemployed graduate in Political Science.   From what the paper said, you seem to need some help."

        I invited her inside.

        She removed her boots and sat heavily on a newspaper covered chair, wet, plump and bedraggled.   Despite her appearance, she spoke clearly, with a well modulated voice:

        "I will work for   you for nothing during the campaign, but when its over I will want a job."

        The question of employing staff as an MP had not occurred to me.   The present preoccupation was with trying to win votes.

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