Imagine Prime Minister Scott Morrison out clubbing at 4am on the weekend.

I similar night of revelry has got Finland’s Prime Minister Sann Marin into all sorts of strife; not so much her moves, which looked pretty good from afar, but the fact that it was after her foreign minister tested positive for COVID-19.

But perhaps political nightclubbing is not such a bad idea.

Just imagine Scott Morrison at a nightclub – with a genteel name like Butchers – showing off his moves, an hour before the sun wakes up over the horizon.

Mr Morrison, and a parliament of politicians (is that the best collective noun for a group of politicians?) will soon criss-cross the nation promising this and that in return for our vote.

Expect promises of sports stadiums and roads, especially in marginal electorates, along with a bag of goodies for families and every other voting cohort that might swing the election.

Those promises follow focus groups and marketing probes and a bid by both parties to find what policies might strike a chord with a cynical but clever electorate.

So what might happen if Mr Morrison – or even Anthony Albanese – jumped into an Uber at Kirribilli House on Saturday night, and headed into the nightclubs along Oxford Street?

He’d see the scourge of vapes, or electronic cigarettes, and might even learn that children in year five are now being caught vaping at school.

With a bit of homework, he’d find out that some of them brim with addictive nicotine, heavy metals, volatile organic compounds and harmful flavouring chemicals.

Later, seeking advice from experts, he’d be told that one in five year 12 girls now vape.

And we might see a big tough policy around that, come the next election.

If they turned down the nightclub music, and he talked to the young people he’d find out that some of them have pre-loaded, because drinks out are just so expensive, or popped an E.

His young advisers will tell them that’s MDMA (methylenedioxymethamphetamine) or Ecstasy.

Often, experts say, bright young women who never court trouble take it.

You don’t act drunk, and there’s plenty of people willing to pay for it, on your behalf.

That might, just might, lead to a rethink about how we take on drugs, and the crime that comes with it.

Ice mainly, but other drugs too that are tearing the guts out of some regional and rural areas.

Outside for fresh air, his dance floor buddies could explain the lockdown legacy, especially for their cousins in Melbourne.

The anxiety. The sense of foreboding. The fear brought on by uncertainty. The loss of part-time jobs.

The mental health challenge, which is sitting like a big beach umbrella over our children’s future. The trepidation ahead of the pre-Christmas ATAR release.

As the clock struck 4am, he’d climb back into the Uber ready to throw a truckload of money at organisations that spend their days supporting those with anxiety and depression and eating disorders.

He’d shake his head at the magnitude of the problem and he’d pencil in a line at his next press conference.

Thank our first responders. Thank our nurses. And our doctors. Thank our psychologists and hospital workers.

On the way back across the bridge, he’d see early morning workers. Washing the windows on skyscrapers, filling the post-rain pothole, filling up at the service station. Hard workers, all poised to lodge their vote next year.

And back at Kirribilli, careful not to wake his tween and teen daughters, he’d think about how he was harangued over climate change waiting for his Uber to pull up.

Perhaps he might ask his daughters about that in the morning.

He knew some students had marched out of the school ground to attend rallies. But nightclubbers at climate change protests?

Perhaps this was a bigger issue than his advisers thought? And housing affordability? He hadn’t expected that number of teen clubbers to nominate it as one of the big issues where they faced discrimination.

Ms Marin might look more at home at 4am on the dance floor. But perhaps a nightclub excursion is just what Australia’s Prime Minister needs to understand the schooner full of lessons our young people want to deliver.