There are, I am told, a number of arguments for launching your campaign a month after it has already started. None of these arguments have convinced me, however, that the label is anything other than absurd.

Call it a policy launch, call it three-quarter time. Whatever you call it, stop kidnapping words and forcing them to do things against their will.

The Coalition's so-called launch, which took place today at the Queensland Performing Arts Centre, has been eagerly anticipated by the bus. Having withstood weeks of pork-barrelling in marginal electorates, starved of national policy announcements, the reporters have held out in hope that today would finally give them something to chew on.

In a sense, they were not disappointed. In another, the thing was a huge anti-climax.

Welcome to not-so-sunny Brisvegas, where you too can spend $9.4 billion in an afternoon.

The performance—indeed, there can be no better word for it—opens with one of those corporate videos in which actors-who-look-like-ordinary-people talk positively about the Government's achievements. We know that they're actors because a waiter in Sydney is finishing the sentence of a miner in Mt Isa: "Australia is a great place to build a business…" "…or build a family". Government ministers also appear, prompting sniggers and, in the case of Malcolm Turnbull, outright laughter from the journalists. Tony Abbott appears in the rain. The image might have been the perfect metaphor for his campaign were it not for the presence of an umbrella.

Brisbane's Lord-Mayor, Campbell Newman, bounds onto the stage with a certain zealousness and introduces the various ministers in attendance. When Alexander Downer is cheered by the audience, I know I'm not in Kansas anymore. Mal Brough, the home state favourite, damned near brings the house down. There's something vaguely hysterical about it all, a cross between The Price is Right ("Come on down!") and the preamble to a boxing match ("In the blue corner, weighing in at three hundred pounds, the heavyweight champion of the world…").

Peter Costello takes to the stage and sets the place on fire. He's a great comedian and spits out a veritable string of pearls. He has a nice routine, however predictable, about Labor's claim to be economically conservative. "They would have you believe there were never reds under the bed, just economic conservatives!" he cries. "Poor, misunderstood economic conservatives, yearning to be free!" Admittedly, it's a little crude, but P-Co, bless him, sells it well.

He also knows when and how to vary tone and pace within a speech. He brings the whole thing down a level and starts whispering conspiratorially. "It's a pretence. A pretence to get through to the election until such a time as the real agenda becomes apparent." And then he gets onto the standard cabinet-full-of-trade-unionists stuff and the spell of the performance is broken a little.

Nevertheless, it's an excellent start. Unfortunately, it's all downhill from here.

Mark Vaile takes to the stage and puts the fire out. Indeed, asked to sum up his speech in three words, one may well choose: wet, wet, wet. He derides the idea of an education revolution. "It sounds like something you'd hear about in a Communist country," he exclaims, causing half the media contingent to shake their heads in disbelief. Later, climbing back onto the bus, the old-timers wrack their brains to remember a more insipid and uninspiring number. One of them, who has been covering politics for over twenty years, says Vaile's speech was among the all-time worsts.

Which brings us to J-Ho. And the crowd goes wild.

But not us, we journalists, all po-faced and composed, sitting there at the centre of a standing ovation and waiting to hear what we've been waiting to hear for weeks. Details. Numbers. The sound of a rabbit jumping out of a hat.

Come on, Mr. Howard, show us your policies.

He opens nervously, his voice breaking at several points, though it's not long before he gets into the swing of things and puts his game face on. And then, suddenly, some twenty-two minutes into the speech, like manna from heaven, policy flows forth.

The effect on the journalists is instantaneous; it's as if the drought has finally broken. Eyes dart down, pens start scribbling furiously. Michelle Grattan (the bus is packing heat today) is hunched over in concentration. Even Peter Hartcher, who until now has been sitting around looking swellegant in his pinstripe suit, has the back of his head to the ceiling. They are finally writing about something that matters and are in their element.

There's the $652.4 million child care plan, which will pay the 30 per cent Child Care Tax Rebate directly to child care services and provide local governments with capital funds required to build or extend 35 child care centres over four years.

There's the $1.6 billion housing plan, which will see the introduction of Tax Free Home Saver Accounts for first-time home buyers and the disposal of ten parcels of Commonwealth land, totalling 961 hectares, across five states and territories.

And then there's the real behemoth in the line-up, the $6.3 billion plan to introduce an Education Tax Rebate of 40 per cent for every preschool, primary and secondary school student in the country.

The other policy announcements involve better support for carers and a summer school for teachers to support students with special needs. There's also an admittedly much needed but, in the guise presented here, essentially tokenistic plan to improve young people's financial literacy.

Afterwards, once the cheering has faded and the players have retired to remove their make-up, there is a post-coital sense of disappointment amongst those of us who have returned to the bus. In retrospect, the weeks of waiting in anticipation hardly seem worth it.

Sure, Howard has dished up three major policies and sprinkled them with some cinnamony minor ones. But these are merely more expensive versions of policies and ideas already announced by Labor.

The Coalition's Education Tax Rebate mimics Labor's 50 per cent rebate on education expenses, though unlike Labor's it will not be means tested and will also cover school fees.

The Tax Free Home Saver Accounts are reminiscent of Labor's proposed First Home Saver Accounts, only with fewer restrictions placed upon how much can be saved in the accounts and when the funds can be accessed.

The only area in which the Government hasn't outspent Labor is childcare policy.

Otherwise, the differences between the various promises is essentially financial. The Government has removed all stops, spent up big, and bet the farm on the results. How do you spell inflationary again?

In short, there was almost nothing there. No bold new vision, no attempt to set the agenda. Indeed, the entire launch was essentially an attempt to waltz to someone else's tune. This gives Rudd room to move on Wednesday, when Labor has its own campaign launch. The Government has given him a blank slate to play with. Anything he says will be new.

The incredulous sigh of one senior journalist summed the afternoon up perfectly.

"They don't even seem to be trying anymore," he said on his way to the back of the bus.

I think everyone else was thinking the same thing.

We sat there on the bus and filed.

ElectionTracker, 12 November 2007