IT was her firm duty, the Australia Post deliverer assured us, to place unaddressed political material into everyone's letterbox.
"Including yours," the cheerful post lady shouted with a dramatic, and yet strangely graceful, sweep of her fluoro-jacketed arm.
The ruling followed this columnist's request, nay demand, to the AP lady that she no longer place any more four-colour party pamphlets into our mail receptacle on the important and sensible basis that we knew for whom we were about to vote in this Saturday's federal election.
"We know who we're voting for," we yelled back and included a slight tap to the side of the nose with a forefinger for added emphasis.
Indeed, folks, have we not all faced enough torment as a colourful blizzard of unaddressed print material bearing the often hideous rictus-like grins of parliamentary hopefuls and wannabes, plus promises verging on fibs, is shoved into groaning letterboxes marked AUSTRALIA POST ADDRESSED MAIL ONLY if not the less polite NO JUNK MAIL?
Yet it appears that Australia Post, that definitely non- politically aligned body, apparently complies with federal legislation obliging it to place bumf into whatever steel, wood, or even fuel containers wittily converted into the shape of cows, is situated on the end of a pole at the end of your driveway.
Regardless of peremptory announcements to the contrary.
We must, therefore, deliver three hearty cheers on the matter to Sassafras commentator Rick Rockliff and Griffith University Professor Ross Fitzgerald.
While of different persuasions, the former a businessman, the latter a boffin, both are as of one accord on the federal election campaign.
Professor Fitzgerald, Griffith's emeritus professor of history and politics, said on ABC Radio earlier this week that "most Australians have already made up their minds".
Rather more robustly, Mr Rockcliff reckoned in a letter to the editor of this newspaper that: "Anyone who doesn't know how they are going to vote now, based on past performance rather than the spin, should forfeit their right to vote.
"Eighty per cent of voters already know who they are going to vote for," he added.
"All the spin and half-truths we are being bombarded with is only aimed at the 20 per cent of so- called swinging voters."
Our question, naturally enough, is just how groovy and swinging are these so-called swinging voters?
Is the campaign, with its alarums, excursions and extraordinary diversions and televisual opportunities across every state and territory, merely for the benefit of the brown-cardigan set waiting to be swayed by powerful argument, brilliant rhetoric and, perhaps, the Ruddster's "selfies" of his shaving mishaps?
Certainly not based on the robust assertions made by people known to yours etc.
We see this timid 20 per cent (surely not even that many?), adjusting the horn-rimmed glasses before reading every single goddamn word of balanced newspaper editorials and carefully mulling over various feature ("on the one hand, on the other hand") articles by po-faced pundits.
Later of an evening, the yet-to- be-turned minority watch the ABC television news wondering, for example, why the Ruddster raised his eyes to the ceiling when asked about fiscal year 2014 projections and why Tony "er, um" Abbott wore footy shorts and a bow tie to a Libs' formal dinner.
Following which, the Sandy Stone-like elector turns off "the instrument" to quiz the only living being in the lounge who is not asleep (usually the mutt) or dead, to thrash out the day's exciting developments and pledges.
This may, or may not, include another bloody forestry deal, a streamlined Bass Strait freight equalisation scheme or the dead- set promise of a gorgeous blonde chick delivering a free slab of booze to your joint every Saturday arvo during the footy finals.
Better than political pamphlets shoved in your letterbox, though, hey?