As a general rule, I try to steer clear of commercial television. People crying over flopped souffle grates on my non-existent patience. But I’d been given the tip to watch 60 minutes on Sunday, and in my excitement, I accidentally saw four minutes of The Voice. Almost 72 hours later and after much thought, I’m not sure which I find more jarring: Kelly Rowland dressed like a big flailing blue vagina or allegations of rampant branch stacking in Victorian Labor. 

Kudos to The Age and Channel 9 for producing a rare and excellent piece of investigative journalism.