If she has straight hair, it will be straightened more. If she has curly hair, it is not at all unusual for that hair to be first straightened, and then curled again. (While this is happening, any number of blokes will be circulated through the make-up chair next to her, each more pockmarked, bald, spotty and dandruff-sprinkled than the last. No matter how hideous the extent of his pustular facial excrescences and sprawling nostril hair, each chap will be subjected to no more than a brisk and manly dusting of powder before being sent on his way.) After her TV appearance, the whole lot will be sponged off the lady's face with a further pricey selection of cleansers, toners and moisturisers. Ideally, different products should be used for different skin areas (chin skin being much hardier and less generally needy than eye skin, which travels with its own little briefcase of creams and gels, which should be dabbed in, rather than rubbed.) The reverse beautification takes seconds, after which the lady - having had the great privilege of being made to look amazing by a highly trained professional - goes back to looking like an old boot. Weirdly, this wholesale destruction of the make-up artist's work is often carried out in front of the artist. Does it bother them, to see their hard work ruined in such a businesslike fashion? Every single one I've asked about this - and there are some true masters at the ABC - insists they don't mind.

But it can't be easy, being - after firework manufacturers and Kevin Rudd's speechwriters - the professional group most grimly reconciled to seeing their work consigned to immediate oblivion. Once the make-up is removed and the appearance concluded, the lady is free to return to her desk, where she will spend a quiet half hour processing and deleting 50 emails and Twitter messages explaining how ridiculous she looked and how no one is going to take her seriously until she gets her hair sorted out. In the past fortnight, I've been filling in for Leigh Sales on ABC's 7.30, and getting a little taste of what her world is like. Here's my favourite piece of viewer feedback, which arrived with the arrestingly simple subject line: ''Oh Dear''. It continued, and I reproduce the correspondence in its entirety: ''Whoever did your make-up last night obviously doesn't like you. Did you sleep with her husband? You looked like a two-bit hooker ready for a bit of business on Hindley Street*. And I thought you were such a nice girl. Don't you dare come into my house looking like that again. Regards, Derek Mitchell.''

Well, Derek. It's good of you to get in touch. And frankly, I can't believe you're single!** The most confounding thing about make-up for women is that it has actually become a competency issue. If you don't get it right (this applies to clothes too - just ask Greg Hunt to look up ''Julia Gillard'' and ''Jackets'' on Wikipedia for you, in case of any doubt), it automatically means you are probably bad at your job, even if your job has nothing to do with drawing neat lines around your eyes, or procuring a jacket that fits snugly from every angle. If you don't bother, God help you. So much happened during the three years for which Gillard served as our first female prime minister, but, assuming she had to spend an hour a day being made up, let's say five days a week, that's 750 hours over the course of her prime ministership that the most powerful woman in Australia spent having someone colour in her face. How much is 750 hours of PM time worth, anyway? Some people used to tease her for hooking up with a hairdresser. Are you kidding? Show me a professional woman moving in with a man who's prepared to blow-dry her hair at 5am and I'll show you a lady who's thinking three jumps ahead.

Beauty is a tough game. Sometimes you have to man up. *Adelaide's red-light district. Loading **You are single, Derek, aren't you? Twitter: @annabelcrabb.