Her earlobes have been described as pendulous, her childlessness has been scrutinised, and many are unimpressed that her partner has not joined her on the campaign trail.

Australia’s election campaign has been reduced to a litany of personal attacks on Julia Gillard, the country’s first female prime minister, who is seeking a mandate on 21 August. In a campaign short on policy detail, Gillard has increasingly been judged not on her manifesto but on her fashion sense (drab), her religious beliefs (atheist), her marital status (unmarried) and her physical features.

Gillard, who was born in Wales, has tried to meet her detractors head-on, appearing this week in a 13-page photo spread in one of Australia’s biggest selling women’s magazines. In the article in Australian Women’s Weekly, she argues that questions would be raised about her ability to govern if she had a young family. "If a woman presented as prime minister with a large number of children, people would then have said, ‘How on earth is she going to give the job the focus it’s going to need?’," she said.

But hostile segments of the press kept up the barrage of caustic coverage. Sydney’s Daily Telegraph switched the focus to Gillard’s opposition to a $A30 (£17) pension rise and her claims that "old people don’t vote for Labor" – and illustrated the piece with a digitally altered image of Gillard in old age.

The Conservative leader of the opposition, Tony Abbott, has attempted to exploit the hostility towards Gillard’s personal life, unveiling new star recruits in his attempt to woo female voters – his wife, Margie, and three daughters. Ingratiating himself with children at a childcare centre, Abbott, 52, spoke knowingly of mortgage stress, childcare concerns and school fees.

Asked whether he was playing the family card to differentiate himself from Gillard, Abbott said: "I think families are important, I take them seriously."

In an election campaign that has been criticised for being light on policy from both camps, opinion polls suggest the gender divide is proving a potent weapon. This was evident during the leader’s only televised debate last Sunday when the "worm", which measures the audiences reaction to politicians’ statements, showed that men clearly liked Abbott while female voters were opting for Gillard.

While Abbott was behind in the polls a month ago, research company Galaxy’s poll taken this week found the vote is now split 50/50 between the two parties.

Political commentators blame Labor’s slip on a damaging leak this week that suggested Gillard originally questioned key Labor policies of introducing a paid parental leave plan and increasing payments to pensioners. Some Labor members are now accusing former prime minister Kevin Rudd, who was unceremoniously ousted, of leaking the conversations and accusing him of wanting to "bring the whole place down with him".

Commentators believe voters are continuing to express disappointment with the way Rudd was dumped as prime minister, and that Abbott has played to the resentment with references to the divided government.

Dennis Shanahan, of the Australian newspaper, said that while Gillard’s magazine shoot this week left her looking "more like a supermodel than a cabinet minister, it is Abbott who is beginning to look better as the election campaign moves on".

"Abbott may not be pretty but he’s proving to be pretty effective," he wrote

After years of talk, I finally took the plunge. But my journey in vest and trunks didn’t quite go to plan

First, don’t try this at home. It could have ended in disaster. It was ignorant and it was dangerous.

But it was not impetuous. I have been thinking, talking, and finally fretting about swimming across the River Thames for 15 years since, in my forties, I moved into a flat on Narrow Street in the East End of London, looking out over the river at Limehouse Reach. I watched 20ft tides racing up and down the river. Swans, cormorants, traffic cones and sometimes corpses floated by. Barges, sailing ships, warships, cruise liners, disco boats and police launches buzzed, roared or chugged past my balcony, day and night.

Except at my favourite time. In the small hours of the morning the river is silent, alone with itself, slapping and sucking at the foreshore beneath my balcony. This would be the time to swim across, with no shipping and nobody to raise an alarm.

I’m no great swimmer, but I can stay afloat. I would make my crossing in high summer when the water was warmest, and at high tide, as it turned. I would start from the stairs at Globe Wharf on the other side and swim straight across to the Ratcliff Cross stairs at Narrow Street.

And I would do it without a boat or any kind of flotation in tow, because otherwise it isn’t real. I started telling friends of my plan.

But somehow I never got around to executing it. The years passed; I turned 50, then 55. Friends would yawn as I insisted that I’d do it. Sometimes someone would say: “How about tonight?” and I’d be momentarily keen, then reflect that the tide wasn’t right, I needed to be fresh for the morning … or whatever.

Sometimes, on warm days I’d test the temperature. Fine. So was I getting cold feet? The talk continued, however; the plans for how the lodger Tom would flash a light on the balcony across the river so I’d know the coast was clear … oh yes, this would surely happen. But somehow never tonight, never this month, never this year. The deferral was becoming Chekhovian.

In a couple of weeks I shall turn 61. London has been hot. Online tide tables said that there would be high tides, midweek, in the small hours. My partner (fiercely opposed) was away.

“Come on,” I thought. “Do it.” I told Jonathan, an LSE student who’s working for me. “I’ll come too,” he said. High tide, 03.35 on Thursday morning. Tom would be there on balcony duty. Supper, a few hours’ sleep, then . . .

Astonishing, how fearful I then became. How had I got myself into this? Why hadn’t I kept my mouth shut? Now I understood the subliminal reason I’d never done it before. All that thinking about it and boasting about it had scared me. At midnight, as I lay my head on the pillow, at first sleep would not come.

It’s being woken in the dark that’s worst. I donned trunks and an old singlet to swim in, and some discardable flip-flops. We stood on the balcony. The river was very black. We called a minicab just after 3am to take us under the nearby Rotherhithe Tunnel to the other side. We crept down the Globe Stairs wordlessly, so as not to alert any flat-dwellers, and undressed. Each wondered if he’d be going ahead if it wasn’t for the other.

But from my balcony came no flashing light. Could Tom not see us? A big barge slid past, heading (surprisingly fast) upstream Then my balcony light flashed. We struck out for the other side.

There’s a kind of relief, once you start. The water was choppy but not too cold, and I could feel no current. We swam silently, breaststroke, surprised at the ease. Except that across the water, perspectives were altering unaccountably. Then I saw trees moving behind the buildings on the other side. Why? When I turned to look for Globe Stairs behind us, they were far over to our right. We were being carried upstream. Fast. The tide was still coming in. Fast.

We decided to stay close together, not to fight the current, and keep swimming towards the opposite bank; hard work now in the choppy water. I saw a flashing blue light moving towards us from our left. “River Police!” I hissed. No, a light on a buoy, and we were being swept towards it. Soon we were almost past the King Edward VII Park, and approaching Wapping. In the first glimmer of dawn we saw sailing dinghies, moored offshore. Jonathan managed to grab a rope, and I a rudder.

We were breathless, and getting cold. We could see the stilts of a riverside boardwalk some way away, near the Prospect of Whitby pub in Wapping. If we could just reach those stilts before being swept farther . . . we struck out. Jonathan, at 20 the stronger swimmer, did it easily. I just did it, and in doing so, understood how easily and quickly you can lose heart in fast-flowing cold water. We pulled our way round to a little creek, plunged across and climbed a high iron ladder on to a road. We had been in the water for perhaps half an hour.

For a moment I felt weak and shaky, my balance thrown, and began to shiver. We were about three-quarters of a mile upriver from Limehouse. The park was locked. No way home, but up on to a big road, the Highway, back from the river. We were barefoot, and Jonathan in only skimpy underpants. “Let’s run,” he said.

We flew, pounding the pavements barefoot, I feeling strangely lightheaded, my normal limp gone. It was like a dream. My brain raced. GMT! Navigational tables are in GMT! High tide would have been at 04.35, not 03.35. We pounded on. A passing man, jumped, frightened, away.

And soon we were in Narrow Street, ringing the doorbell. “You disappeared,” said Tom. “We saw you go in, then nothing.” He hadn’t called the police: “What could they do? I doubted you’d drowned.”

I stopped shivering. The shower (so much mud!) was sublime. The sweet tea was nectar. The sleep was heavenly.

But it was the waking up on Thursday that felt transfigurative. Yes! I did it! I can do it. And I’ll never have to do it again.

I think I am ready to order – think I will go for wifi version – lighter, cheaper and most books will be downloaded at home.

I had a call earlier from Mort who sounded as if he had downed a bottle of Original Grouse.  He phoned to give me the link above which is from an ABC (Australian Broadcasting Corporation) programme on advertising.  However the last edition (27/07/10 first of 4 leading up to general election) was about election adverts, debates and a perspective on past delights.  It was fascinating I recommend you download and watch.

Thanks Mort, hope the head is OK! hic!

The Gruen Transfer team has set itself the task of decoding the showbusiness strategies used by politicians during the upcoming federal election.

ABC1′s hit show about advertising is to be relaunched as The Gruen Nation, a series of 45-minute specials which will be broadcast during the election campaign.

Political insiders and campaign veterans will join host Wil Anderson and regular guests Todd Sampson and Russel Howcroft to dissect each week’s events.

"If the ABC is the national broadcaster, then Gruen Nation is the national bullshit detector," Anderson said.

Producer Jon Casimir says the show will run an X-ray over the federal election, its advertising and all the other tricks political parties use to influence voters.

"An election campaign is about showbusiness. But while everyone else will be busy discussing the business, at Gruen Nation we’re only interested in the show," Casimir said in a statement.

Amanda Duthie, ABC TV’s head of arts and entertainment, says Gruen Nation will be just as funny and entertaining as its parent show.

"It will be an enlightening look at the political spin around this very important election," she said.

The two members of a group calling itself the Tony Abbott Ladies Auxiliary entered the Langham Hotel this morning, hoping to give the Opposition Leader his "policy briefs" and a stuffed yellow budgie.

The pair, dressed in pink dresses and hats also appeared on the 2007 election campaign with Kevin Rudd and John Howard.

This morning, following Tony Abbott’s press conference on gangs and crime, the pair – dubbed Mrs Bea Wright and Mrs Bea Wight – started wandering about the hotel, before police showed them the door.

"We love Tony," Mrs Wright said.

The pair denied they were members of the Labor Party.

"We are here to give support to Tony’s election."

The pair caused quite a scene outside the hotel, but they were unsuccessful in their efforts to give Mr Abbott the Speedo-style briefs and budgie.

"He’s missing his budgie and policy briefs," Mrs Wright called out.  "Tony, Tony!" they called.

One said it was "appalling" Julia Gillard was Prime Minister.  "I think it’s appalling, she should be at home cooking Tim’s (first bloke) breakfast."

The extraordinary behind-the-scenes story of five days in May when the UK’s political leaders haggled over who should form the next government. In exclusive interviews, David Cameron, Nick Clegg and other key players tell the BBC’s political editor Nick Robinson how the coalition government was created.