Sketch: In the prime minister’s suite, Tony Abbott’s political assassin reflects on how Frank Underwood’s plots are just a bit too melodramatic for him

House of Cards? I prefer Borgen – says Turnbull, the man who toppled a PM

If you ask Malcolm Turnbull to nominate a preferred fictional role model for political leadership – Birgitte Nyborg in Borgen or Frank Underwood in House of Cards – then he’s all the way with the cycling, coalition-building, centrist, coffee-drinking Birgitte.



'One of the interesting things about being PM is people take more notice of you' Read more

Lest alarm bells start ringing (again) in the government’s conservative ranks, lest anyone think a closet fan of the Scandinavian model has taken the party of Menzies hostage and set up residency in the prime ministerial suite – let me be clear.

There is only one woman in the Turnbull closet, and that’s wife Lucy.

More of Lucy in the closet shortly.

Sticking momentarily with leadership role models, Turnbull’s Birgitte preference can be explained quite simply.

When Frank Underwood breaks the fourth wall, he reveals himself as “a latter day Iago”. Borgen, by contrast, is “very raw, real political drama”.

“House of Cards, which we all love, is more of a melodrama,” Turnbull says, chortling for the first time in an interview with Guardian Australia.

Clearly one cannot endorse Frank, but one would sort of like to, as one would like, sometimes, to have dessert before dinner.

Turnbull is perched, slightly stiff, abundantly cautious, at the head of his new meeting table, which apart from the artwork and personal effects, is the major change in the renovated prime ministerial suite.

A table won’t sound like much at all, but you can trust me when I tell you it’s an emphatic piece in the room.

It occupies territory where a bunch of low bucket chairs used to cluster around a coffee table. The bucket chairs, used by a number of previous prime ministers, said relax. It was hard to rise from those chairs elegantly.

The new boardroom table says work – and work in the style of the chief executive, or the chairman of the board – holding court, cooking up ventures, taking minutes, cross-checking accounts.

Gather the coterie, and, in time, soar above it.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Malcolm Turnbull in the newly renovated prime ministerial suite, photographed on FRiday. Photograph: Mike Bowers/The Guardian

It’s more formal than his old parliamentary digs, which had the convivial feel of salon, or lair.

Of course, there are higher stakes in this room, and perhaps the furniture is totemic as well as practical.

Rather than writing a prominently displayed post-it-note that says, simply, “Malcolm, consult, or die …” perhaps just construct a permanent shrine to the virtue of collaboration in your private space.

Make it the practical obstacle you will encounter every time you have to exit through the front door, lest you repeat old mistakes, lurch back into old, self-defeating habits.

Turnbull brings in Howard hires and new talent but cabinet the first port of call Read more

The Turnbull family is in the office, small framed photographs behind the desk.

The family pictures are overwhelmed by the scale of the art: a family-owned John Olsen painting that came from the ministerial office, a Lloyd Rees that is on loan from the parliamentary collection and has visited the prime ministerial suite before, an exquisite needlepoint piece from Narelle Jubelin.

But in the dressing closet, a little room off the main office, Lucy Turnbull reigns serene – regal, regarding visitors from a portrait perched high over their heads.

The now adult Turnbull children, Alex and Daisy, also smile as sheepish children out of portraits on another wall.

It’s the private place that sits adjacent to public office.

Turnbull would have had them all in the public arena, but this was Lucy’s call.

Lucy has been arranging.

Malcolm has been deferring.