Margo: Stephen, you are a serious talent. Thank you for choosing Webdiary to publish your work.

If you watched the ABC's election night coverage, you would be familiar with the graphics used by host Kerry O'Brien and expert Antony Green. It showed numbers in the Lower House as blocky shapes of team red vs team blue.

In the National Tally Room, I met Linda, the proud mother of a young girl who had created a much more interesting display of the balance of power. This was in the form of a tray of cupcakes. Yes - a tray of neat little cakes topped with icing. The kingpins were of course Cupcake Howard and Cupcake Rudd. One is shown with a downcast icing mouth and the other by a smiley face. When I first saw the batch, quite a few of the other cakes were by now crumbs of their former selves. As the attrition continued, the big question was - who would be the last one standing?

At this point let's wind the clock back to the start of my day. It is 7.30am and I am setting up at my polling booth for a mate of mine - Darren Churchill [1], a candidate in the seat of Fraser [2] for the Australian Democrats. On arrival, I am greeted by the sight of the hyperactive Liberal booth man who has covered the entire lawn in front of the school/polling booth with signs and ugly black plastic banners. I secure my spot and as the early bird voters start to drift in, my fellow booth volunteers also begin to arrive. With all stands in place, so begins the battle of the spruikers. The tide of voters all need to run the gauntlet.

I soon see a pattern of voter behaviour. Some politely take one of everything. Other people march right on by to take the card of their choice. A more timid bunch can be divided into a few sub-groups. The wall runners dash along the side of the building to keep the full width of the path between themselves and the outstretched hands of their harassers. A variation on this is to march in, grim look on face and eyes downcast, heading directly into the booth without looking up. (Thank goodness there were no poles to walk into on the way to the poll.) A more confident variation is the mobile phone user. They cannot take a single step (or drive, shop etc) without having phone to ear. Today, the bulk of this group are in fact using their mobile as a prop - faking it to avoid contact. A rare group resort to the most desperate avoidance measure - arriving on crutches with no hands free to take a how to vote card. Finally, the endangered species in the mass of voters. Not content to just walk on by, they feel compelled to snipe at you with a clever (so they imagine) one liner or cutting remark as they cruise past. Not too many nasty ones, thankfully. However, it seems much of the agro has gone out of polling day. Not like the old days when class warfare raged and there were a few punch-ups at the booths.

Early on, there is a genuine vibe for change. Lots of people who can't wait to vote. Not many taking Liberal cards. About lunchtime, the quiet descends. Then 'the enemy' is sighted - Liberal Senator Gary Humphries arrives with an ABC TV crew in tow. He stages the handing out of his card. By chance, Darren, the Democrat I am helping today has also called in. Does he get equal time - not a chance! The Senator and 'your ABC' are soon gone.

Things drag from here. People with harassed schedules rush in (“let's get this over with!”). Others don't give a damn. Lastly, there are the people who are late for everything. I join the GetUp crew, Labor and Greens as we bunch in a patch of shade. We exchange stories on why we are here. The Liberal booth workers choose to stand apart in the boiling sun. As it turns out, they have the last laugh. The Greens' Kerrie Tucker does great but when she needs the preferences, Labor has no swing to pass on. GetUp has been very inventive - offering voters a pencil on the way in and handing out fortune cookies containing rousing messages about true democracy. Sadly, after all this effort, the Senate can't be Saved. For the Democrats, Darren falls short of his goal of 4% of the vote. Still, he gets the second highest percentage of any Democrat candidate in the election. But it is small consolation. Andrew Bartlett [3] is gone in Queensland. The Democrats [4] will disappear in the new Senate.

All of this mini drama happens well away from the main stage. It matters very little as the euphoria builds after 6pm. I head out to the National Tally Room. A two-hour queue snakes away from the pavilion. The story is, it is a full house and you are only allowed in as others leave. Thus, two go out, two go in and so on. Despite the wait, every moment is part of the event. In the line, we exchange snippets of news. Rumours of a huge swing in Bennelong. Barnaby Joyce, by a mad intuition declares the election lost as soon as the polls close up north (and he is proven correct!). It is like queuing outside a football stadium and hearing the roar of the crowd at some action you are missing.

At last, into the tally room. The giant board rises from floor to high ceiling at one end with a scattering of people gazing up over the heads of the AEC staff busy at their computers. At the other end of the tally room, the TV talent sit in their elevated studios, backs to the crowd. Actually, everyone is clustered behind only one of the booths. Yes - there is Kerry O'Brien anchoring for the ABC. The commotion you can hear from outside occurs every time Maxine McKew's name is called. She is making giant inroads into the Bennelong count. The crowd senses Howard on the brink. The chant goes up: “Max-ine, Max-ine!” This is what the people have come along for - the Downfall.

Kerry O'Brien's star guest is Julia Gillard. The crowd is soon chanting “Jul-ia” whenever she gets to speak. It is Canberra people behaving badly and loving every minute of it all. Kerry is getting a bit wound up. He turns around, pointing to his ear, indicating trouble with hearing anything over the noise. A journalist looking for quotes grabs my partner to ask her about how it feels to be here. A rather short, youngish guy brushes past me. “OMG”, I hear, “It's him!” Craig Reucassel from the Chaser boys. A group of excited girls rush in for photos and autographs. I am caught in a Chaser crush. Craig spies a young woman in a Peter Garrett tee shirt and a baby in her arms. While he conducts the interview, nearby, there is a Chaser false alarm. It's sometime Chaser, Charles Firth - but tonight he is roving for Nine.

It is at this point that I meet Linda with her daughter's cupcakes. Only a few of these remain. Indeed, the most iced and decorated with silver beads of candy are those for Howard and Rudd. The Howard face is a reverse of the Rudd smiley face. By this symbol, Little Johnny has been reduced to one last bite size. And Maxine keeps munching away.

Craig from The Chaser has roamed on, with his crew in train. Charles Firth is rehearing a Mexican wave in a section of the crowd. At the front, he has kids in scary monster masks. It seems like half of Canberra are here (many still queuing outside), bringing their kids with them. Firth does a quick run through before he goes live. I move around for a better view. Firth does his intro and works the crowd. What is that in his hand? I can scarcely believe it. It's a cupcake. The cupcake. The John Howard cupcake. It happens so quickly. Kids in scary monster masks. Mexican wave. Cupcake in Firth's hand, then rising into the air. Falling down somewhere. Never to be seen again.

We leave the tally room for home. Across town, we find a Woolies to buy champagne. It is quiet at this time of night. Few shoppers but staff busy filling shelves, on security duty or at the checkouts. They have not heard about the election result so I pass on the news. I leave them to their late shifts. On into the night they no doubt will work, thinking about Work Choices. Waiting.

The election is decided. The event is over. The Rudd Revolution will hit the ground running, we hear. “For all Australians”, he tells us. Will it be a change of substance to bring equal rights and social justice?

Or is it just a 'cupcake revolution'?