It was a strange sort of opening to a strange sort of parliament. Our federal representatives are back, but nobody is quite sure what happens next, because perhaps only Scott Morrison believed the story would end the way it did on 18 May.

When the Senate reopened for business on Tuesday, Mathias Cormann kissed Penny Wong by way of greeting. This geniality is unsurprising. The two are good mates.

But Wong lacked her characteristic vigour. She was in full possession of her poker face, but the disappointment at Labor’s circumstances was etched in her body language.

Labor says RBA’s rate cut a ‘national crisis’ and ‘floundering’ economy needs stimulus Read more

The Labor senator Kimberley Kitching made a show before the formalities of crossing the chamber to kiss Pauline Hanson, which disrupted Hanson’s aspiration, which was to be aloof, and spurned, with her new/old friend, Malcolm Roberts.

The Greens leader, Richard Di Natale, also sought to disrupt the inclination of the Senate to be orderly in selecting its president for the 46th parliament by proposing that the selection should not be “a major party stitch-up”. Di Natale proposed Nick McKim for Senate president in the full knowledge he would fail, thereby underscoring the aforementioned major party stitch-up, politics being protest.

It seemed early in proceedings, less than an hour after opening, to be resorting to a spill and ballot papers, but here we were again, counting and scrutineering in another pointless contest.

Someone had the wit to vote for the Labor man, Gavin Marshall, who had not actually stood for the Senate presidency, because he was no longer in the parliament. It seemed a perfect punchline in a parliament yet to find a rudder, or a compass, or a map – a vote for the man that wasn’t there.

The Liberal, Scott Ryan, got the gong as Senate president, as he was always going to, because he had the numbers. Strangely, he was also the right man for the job, as was fellow Victorian Tony Smith, who was returned almost at the same time to the Speaker’s chair in the House of Representatives.

The two Victorians have proved themselves a couple of ramparts in the interesting times of the Chinese proverb, and Ryan also rashly promised he would fix the Senate doors that have been broken for the best part of 18 months because of a debacle involving a construction firm. Don’t ask, trust me, you don’t want to know.

The only person who looked genuinely delighted to be there (the spectrum of emotion was depressed, resigned, mildly disorientated, placid, or mildly pleased) was Jacqui Lambie, the Tasmanian, who was passed from arm to arm in the chamber, like a newborn.

A hug from Wong. A massive hug from Bill Shorten, who floated into the chamber during the ceremonial too-ing and fro-ing like a Zen priest. Lambie sprinted over at one point to clutch the hands of Marise Payne and Michaelia Cash, startling the two Liberal women, but delighting them also.

Jacqui was happy, returning to political life both forewarned and forearmed, and determined to make a modest splash.

John and Janette Howard, Tony Abbott and Bronwyn Bishop looked down on proceedings as the governor general, David Hurley, unfurled Morrison’s agenda for the term. It is possible in the long recitation that Bishop’s eyes closed at one point, but perhaps she was just checking her phone.

Labor accuses government of 'doing nothing' on press freedom and moves for inquiry Read more

Down on the floor of the Senate, Warren Enstch, the Liberal from north Queensland who held on to his seat of Leichhardt despite fearing at one point that the climate emergency would take him out, also appeared to close his eyes for longer than it might take to check his messages as the various ambitions of the term were intoned.

One of these ambitions, shared with the nation by the governor general, was the requirement “to take urgent and effective action to address climate change”. The government would, Hurley said, “undertake this action as part of a coordinated global effort”.

Not everybody was convinced, evidently. A member of the visitors’ gallery sat in silence as Hurley worked through the speech written for him by Morrison but found his voice at the close. As proceedings wrapped, his anxiety parted company with his body. The political class on the floor couldn’t hear all of the words, but the Arctic and the Great Barrier Reef were clues as to where he was going with his protest.

As security closed in, the man rose to his feet. A woman sitting next to him clutched his coat, but the stranger in the Senate continued, undaunted.

“Action is hope,” he said, gathering volume. “Look at Greta Thunberg.”

Just before he was bundled out by security, he reached his exclamation point.

“Stop Adani,” he yelled into the void below.