Bang! And so, it was on. With a visit to the Governor-General, Julia Gillard fired her starter's pistol, and the runners were away in one of history's most intriguing election campaigns, a campaign that will decide the very future of Australia itself - do we want to live in the sort of confident, compassionate, beautiful country envisaged by Labor, or do we want to live in a country of pure unadulterated evil, as described on the Liberal Party's official website?

Given the importance of this election to us all, it is important that experienced professional journalists like myself and Mia Freedman use their awesome powers to inform and educate the public about the issues on which they will be voting, and which will determine the course of their very lives. This is crucial because, firstly, given the interest politicians have in misleading and distracting people about the issues, the press must take on the task of balancing their spin with real information, and secondly, voters are very stupid.

And so I am committed over the course of this election campaign to untangling the knotted threads of political debate and straining the chunky soup of electoral argy-bargy for you, the simple-minded Australian idiot. As our would-be leaders jostle and squabble on the hustings, you can look to me to answer the big questions:

• What do the candidates stand for?

• How will their policies benefit or disadvantage me and my family?

• What, exactly, is a "husting"?

Let us begin.

The 2010 election will be the first to feature two untested leaders of major parties since the 1993 poll, which ended with the defeat and ritual devouring of John Hewson by Paul Keating. This year's promises to be just as ferocious, or possibly even more so, given that the leaders in 1993 were not subject to strongly conflicted psychosexual feelings about each other.

Right now, of course, we are at the very beginning of the campaign - what might be termed the "feeling out" period, where the leaders circle each other warily, testing out their reach, before getting down to the hard grappling that the next month will bring. Sadly, in modern elections this grappling process is only figurative, but we should nevertheless be in for a most thrilling campaign if the first couple of days are any indication, packed as they were with non-stop action and revelations about the candidates' modus operandi that for hardcore political junkies could only be described as "relatively interesting".

Prime Minister Julia Gillard flagged her intentions early, making it clear, via the use of the phrase "moving forward" over 800 times during her first campaign speech, that she planned to move forward. This will no doubt be a major theme of Labor's throughout the campaign. Even at this early stage, voters wishing to proceed in a forward direction and avoid the painful neck cramps associated with moving backward will want to vote for Labor.

But obviously what you are all asking is which side will best address the major issue of this and any election: who can manhandle the greatest number of strangers' babies in the shortest amount of time. The PM is off to a flying start on this issue, shuffling infants through her tender mitts on the weekend like a blackjack dealer killing time in a maternity ward. With a smile on her face, Gillard proudly held up each mewling child and declared "Vote Labor - we probably won't drop your baby on its head", a stirring slogan in any era. Gillard's decision to be seen publicly cuddling babies was especially canny given the inevitable comparisons to Tony Abbott, who has on several recorded occasions bitten children (YouTube "Tony Abbott Lunchtime").

So we can see how Gillard, with her twin messages of "moving forward" and "picking up tiny people" is seeking to differentiate herself from Abbott; but what of Abbott himself? What opening broadsides has he fired at the galleon of government?

Abbott has two main stories he wants to tell the Australian people: 1) that he is extremely macho, and 2) that he is not as awful as you probably think.

The first prong of this electoral fork is illustrated by his decision to "get tough" on the climate. The climate's got away with its shenanigans for far too long, is Tony's point, and it's time it was called to account. With this in mind, Abbott swears he will never put a price on carbon, thereby in one fell swoop reassuring ordinary working families who had been terrified their beloved carbon was about to become exorbitant, and also showing just what a strong, no-nonsense, sharp-toothed little hunk of testosterone he truly is.

His second point was driven home by his declaration that just as carbon prices and he would forever be strangers, the notorious Workchoices was dead. "Not only buried, but cremated," he vowed, raising worrying questions about just why one would want to cremate a body after burning it.

The public, though, should perhaps gloss over the idea of Tony Abbott hurling lit matches into an open grave, and concentrate instead on the ironclad commitment to never ever bring back Workchoices for at least three years, after which he will (giggle)"review" it. In the meantime, the Coalition will work within Labor's IR framework, which it won't change unless absolutely necessary or if it quite feels like it.

So what does this all mean for you? Well, firstly, that both leaders are keen to look to the future. Abbott has done this by severing ties with the past, i.e. Workchoices, but Gillard's Tourette's-like compulsion to yammer "moving forward" constantly like a coked-up parrot demonstrates a commitment to the concept that the Liberal he-man will find hard to match.

It also means that both sides are playing for keeps: the fact that Abbott is willing to abandon Workchoices, a policy he was once so enamoured of he introduced a private member's bill legalising marriage between a man and a workplace relations system; and that Gillard will happily hold babies despite her well-known allergy to human reproduction, means no effort will be spared in the quest for victory.

And really, this means you're in luck: two mighty leaders are bending every sinew to the task of gaining your favour, and will shower you with largesse to secure it. To boil it down for you, in this election Julia and Tony are the two handsome, wealthy playboys, and you, the voter, are the attractive yet naive virgin whom they have bet their fortunes on their ability to deflower. And rest assured before votes are counted, there will be plenty of equally nauseating metaphors to get your heads around.

And so, we enter that most vibrant and riveting period of life in Australia: a federal election campaign. We are in for twists and turns, smears and mudslinging, debates and intrigues, and possibly, should the parties drop their guards for a minute, a bit of serious policy development.

Which way the election goes is anyone's guess, but in this time of flux there is one certainty, and that is this: a "husting" is a platform from which politicians present their views or cast votes before a parliamentary or election body.

Whatever else befalls us, hold on to that.

Ben Pobjie is a writer, comedian and poet.