Around four o'clock after an early morning pointing of Percy at the porcelain Ballantyne turned his thoughts to the practicalities of running for elected office.
It was evident from yesterday's phone calls that he had most of the family on side if he did decide to run.
Mick was the only question mark, but he'd been one of the most prominent members of the Don't just sit there talking about it. Do something faction.
Teenagers are like that.
It was equally obvious that the family expected him to win, and that his father and uncle were willing to use the family trust's financial resources to make sure he did.
There was probably enough in the family trust's coffers to allow him to run as an independent if that became necessary.
But at that point, the cold hard reality of the electoral numbers kicked in.
With two Senate seats up for grabs, the quota required to elect a candidate was thirty-three and one-third percent of the vote.
Round that off to thirty-four.
Under normal circumstances, both major parties should be able to do that in a cakewalk.