In 1972, the parents of a friend of mine had a political fight. Normally, the husband articulated the families politics and the wife nodded agreement. It was a small-business, private-sector family and the views were naturally high Tory. But in 1972, that nice education Mr Whitlam had replaced the working-class, gravel-voiced Arthur Calwell and the It’s Time slogan was taking hold. The wife indicated that she was going to – shock, horror – vote Labor.
“”This family votes Liberal,” articulated the husband.
On December 2, my friend described – with enormous amusement — how his father, in the primary-school hall, had to be physically restrained by Electoral Commission staff as yelled to his wife, “”You’re not voting for that socialist”, or words to that effect.
Commission staff were patiently explaining, “”Come along now sir, your wife is entitled to vote in her own way.”
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