A fudge-filled promise
Because who doesn’t love a politician with a sweet tooth for broken promises?
The disappearing chocolate fountain
Remember when Premier Jeremy Rockliff promised Tasmania the world’s largest chocolate fountain? A gleaming, sticky-sweet election gimmick, sold as if it were the second coming of Willy Wonka.
Turns out, it was never really on the table. Surprise, surprise.
In the 2024 election, Rockliff rolled out a $12 million taxpayer-funded sugar rush for Cadbury. A “Chocolate Experience” with emporiums, playgrounds, a café, and that headline-grabbing fountain. The media, of course, lapped it up like free samples at the Royal Hobart Show.
But pull back the wrapper and it sours quickly. Two grants worth about $80,000 each slid out the back door to the developer.
No competitive process, no proper oversight.
Public servants even waved red flags: no business case, dodgy impact analysis, nothing but political sprinkles. Yet the show rolled on.
Fast-forward to today. Glenorchy City Council ticked off the wider project in 2025, sure. But the centrepiece, the fountain, had already been quietly dumped almost two years ago.
ribbon-cutting, no press releases, no “oops, sorry.”
Developers now wave it away: “We dropped that out long ago. Media hype. Maybe we’ll bring it back.”
Translation? It was never more than a campaign stunt.
This isn’t about chocolate. It’s about trust.
Rockliff keeps serving up glossy election pies, then scraping out the filling once the votes are counted. The fountain was just dessert theatre. Here’s the main course of broken promises:
- Greyhound Ban: Vowed to end greyhound racing by mid-2029. A promise to secure cross-bench support, not out of conviction.
- TasInsure: A state-run insurer to lower premiums, pitched as bold reform. Treasury called it financially reckless.
- TasDOGE: A “Digital Growth Enterprise” to boost tech jobs. Announced, hyped, then vanished into the digital ether.
- Stadium Cap: Swore Hobart’s stadium would cost “not a red cent more” than $375m. With no evidence that was even possible.
This isn’t bad luck. It’s political vapourware: promises built to evaporate.
Tasmanians deserve better. These aren’t even sweeteners. If Rockliff wants to cosplay Willy Wonka, he should do it on his own dime, not ours.
Because here’s the truth, plain and bitter: if Rocky tells you it’s chocolate, check twice it’s not just mud rolled in sugar.
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