AS ROB Oakeshott took to his Parliament House lectern to announce who he had finally decided to make prime minister, one of the televisions in one of his local pubs, the Port Macquarie Hotel, was switched from a racing channel to the news.
Five of his constituents lingered to watch the announcement.
Another half-dozen ambled over to the other side of the bar where they could watch the dogs at Devonport and the trots at Menangle uninterrupted.
When at the end of his 20-minute oration (and much groaning and eye-rolling in the front bar) Mr Oakeshott confirmed he was guaranteeing supply to a Gillard Labor government, only one man seemed happy.
''I always thought Rob was going to vote Labor, but he could have got to the point a lot faster,'' said Adrian Anderson, perhaps voicing a view held across the nation.
Sadly for Mr Oakeshott, Mr Anderson's support is not much use, he was passing through Port Macquarie on business.
At a table behind him sat Andrew McLeish, a local plasterer, who was far less happy.
''I'm still scarred from the '80s when I finished school and Labor had interest rates up to 17 per cent. I'll never vote Labor.'' Mr McLeish believes Mr Oakeshott's decision flies in the face of most of his constituents - conservatives who were won over by Mr Oakeshott's energetic independence.
Over the road at the offices of the Country Women's Association, branch president Margaret Oswald (''like Lee Harvey'') agrees.
''I think it's a very brave move,'' she says in Sir Humphrey's tone.
Mrs Oswald thinks Mr Oakeshott ''is a nice young man'' who has done his best, but in the last election he finally had some competition from a strong Nationals candidate, David Gillespie, and Mr Oakeshott has lost Mrs Oswald's support.
Her friend Jean De Giovanni voted for the Greens, because she had had enough of both major parties, but so impressed was she by Mr Oakeshott's careful explanation of his decision to support Labor that she has already decided to vote for him next time.
A few blocks away at the bowling club, 20 minutes after the speech, most of the blokes on the green were unaware that the decision had been made, and unmoved when they learnt the result.
''What's the difference?'' asked 82-year-old Frank Drew. ''I don't reckon any of 'em do any good.''
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