THE sounds of paper shredders can be heard in a discordant symphony around the ministerial wing of Parliament House.
Wheelie bins clutter the corridors. Shattered Coalition staff in tracksuits and jeans are gathering possessions and trying to remain civil.
Nameplates have been ripped off the walls, awaiting their replacements.
The Coalition, like Elvis, is leaving the building, or moving to pokey offices with modest ensuites and concealed courtyards.
Barnaby Joyce — whose Canberra office has always been out on the fringes of the building — confesses he is afraid. "I'm scared, I don't want to go outside because I might find a podium to resign from," the Queenslander says before breaking into one of those laughs where it's clear there is absolutely nothing to laugh about.
And so it goes on. I know it seems like I'm gloating, but it's exactly this kind of behind-the-scenes stuff that I love to hear about: the intersection of the personal with the professional. Hard not to see it all through eyes trained by watching West Wing, though.