Ross Cadell (NSW, National Party) Share this | Hansard source

In just over two months on a Sunday afternoon at about this time a driver will exit Forrest's Elbow on Mount Panorama for the last time. They will hit 300 kilometres an hour going down Conrod Straight before going through the Chase and taking Murray's Corner.

Seconds after that they will take the chequered flag of the Bathurst 1000. As they sit alone in the car crossing the line, soaking up their victory and achievement, this will be one of the greatest moments of their life. Their name will go on the Peter Brock Trophy. They will stand upon the top step of the podium and celebrate their victory.

But as they stand there they know that it is a team of people behind the scenes—the mechanics, the engineers, the apprentices, the trainers, the sponsors, the people that helped them out years ago in junior classes and many more—that they share the prize with.

The same stands for me today.

Even though it is my great privilege to have my name upon this desk and my office, to be known as Senator Cadell from the New South Wales Nationals, it is the love, support, help and so much more from the people in the gallery today and people watching from home that have got me here.

Most of all, most importantly today, know that you have given me your trust, and I will not let you down.

Today in my first speech in this place I would like to do two things: I would like to talk about how I arrived behind this desk and what I plan to do behind it.

Because we are limited in time, I am sorry to the dozens of people I will not name today, but know this: if you are here, you are valued; if you were invited, you are respected; and if you weren't, I probably messed up.

When I look around this place I see military veterans, community activists, leaders, corporate achievers, union representatives and so many more high-performing people.

I have heard powerful speeches with firsthand experience of pain and misfortune delivered with such passion, and I find myself feeling somewhat of a pretender, like a charlatan, undeserving of really being here, because mine is a story with as many failures as successes and as many disappointments as celebrations. In the words of the Hunter, where I am from, I am a bit of a plodder.

But then I look at the people up there, I think of those friends who can't be here and I know that I must have done some good, because they have stuck with me through all of that and lifted and propelled me to this day. So again, straight off the bat, thank you all.

To Mum and Dad, you ruined any chance of having me deliver a powerful speech about overcoming disadvantage and adversity by giving my sister, Jane, and I a wonderful, safe middle-class upbringing where I felt loved and supported my whole life.

Sure, it may have come with a love of a punt, a fondness for motorsport and firearms, a sense of humour that can best can be described as strange, an addiction to State of Origin football and the Bathurst 1000 and too many trips into floodwaters on the farm in unsafe vessels that had an uncanny ability to attract snakes.

But you helped me in every way you could, in every way you can, at every time I asked. It is because of you that I am the very best version of a bogan I can be—and my sister, Jane, turned out okay as well.

Also here are my chips off the old bogan, Lachlan and Mitchell, and I am proud of the men they are becoming. I do need to apologise to them for passing on the same sense of humour that I was cursed with, but I know they are super proud of their dad and I want to make sure that in my time here I do some things that mean their lives are safer, longer and happier. We have a saying amongst the Cadell boys: it doesn't matter how you go as long as you try your best. I will be doing that for you in this place.

To their mother, Simone: thank you for the gift of our wonderful boys. Thank you for the 20 years of your life you shared with me. I know you will continue to do amazing things with yours. Madam President and colleagues— this is a risky bit—I'm sorry for this, but my Star Wars fan kids feel I must do this. Lachlan and Mitchell: I am the Senate.

To my wife, Bethan: just when I thought my life was destined to wind down to an average footnote over the last few chapters, no longer worthy of love or success, just merely happy to still be here, you came along and ruined that. I'm once again finding myself living my best life as Rossco, loving you in our little beach shack with our kids and our kitty cats, thousands of miles from your home in Wales. Thank you for your love. Thank you for keeping me in line with your never-ending source of motivational tips, normally delivered with a slap or a loving Kermit face. My favourite still was upon pre-selection: 'Don't become an arsehole.' Many even sitting around you today would say that's only about 40 years too late.

To Anwen and Leo sitting at home: I'm lucky to have you both in my life. I know life gets confusing at times with our bigger family, but know that just means you have more people who love and care for you. Other family here today include my godfather, Uncle Stew; Aunty Effie; my cousin Alyssa; and others online, including Melissa and Fiona.

At high school, my life was going to be so simple: join the Royal Australian Air Force as a fighter pilot, let them tell me what to do for 40 years and then retire. A semi-dicky ticker and circumstances put an end to that after surviving the most brutal recruitment day I've ever seen at the old Sydney office that saw about 200 of us whittled down to half a dozen at the end of the day. I had done all I could to achieve this with no other thoughts.

I joined the Air Training Corps, the cadets, with 16 Flight at Blacksmiths and became a cadet underofficer. This was one of the most enjoyable periods of my life. From that day right up to today, with Hatchy—now Wing Commander Hatch, about to become Group Captain Hatch—we still catch up with Humphrey, Big Dog, Arkin, Pete and Brommy to have a brew and tell some lies.

At school, I selected a lot of subjects I wasn't actually good at and didn't like to qualify, but, again, it wasn't to be. So I was essentially lost. I worked at a bank. I played video games semiprofessionally. I learnt to fly. I chose a uni degree to sign up to based on an American sitcom. I found that, unlike school and TAFE, unis have bars and proceeded to waste the next two years doing first-year commerce. Again, I met some great people: Pete; Galloway; Shane Fitzgerald, who is here today with my cousin Alyssa, who he ended up marrying; Pommy; Wizzo; Teddy Bear; Phil; Donna; Joorgen; and Reg. We even had a crack at politics with the People Like Us Shouldn't be in Power Party. Oops!

During this time I found politics and somehow had an understanding of the campaign and the way it works. I enjoyed it and I wasn't bad at it. I became a member of—dare I say it—the Young Liberals Bel-Air branch, which was named after a pub, not a TV show.