The polls were bleak, nobody in his party room gave Malcolm Turnbull's little-known replacement a chance, and even the preternaturally bullish Morrison was having doubts.

At an art gallery on the NSW Central Coast, the rookie leader received divine succour, as he would later tell a Pentecostal conference.

"I must admit I was saying to myself, 'You know, Lord, where are you, where are you? I'd like a reminder if that's OK'.

"And there right in front of me was the biggest picture of a soaring eagle that I could imagine, and of course the verse hit me. The message I got that day was, 'Scott, you've got to run to not grow weary, you've got to walk to not grow faint, you've got to spread your wings like an eagle to soar like an eagle.'"

This story has been cited by Morrison's detractors to scoff at his faith, with its somehow un-Australian tropes of the individual, material wealth, self-actualisation, and rapturous surrender.

Yet viewed objectively, Morrison's unusual beliefs are no more absurd than those of his opponent, Anthony Albanese, who has his own trinity of faith - the South Sydney Rabbitohs, the Australian Labor Party, and the Catholic Church.

Although to be fair to Albanese, these have at least been lifelong allegiances.

And to be fair to Morrison, who wouldn't search for guidance in an election campaign - a life-consuming endeavour in which uncertainty swirls about the leaders, from the heady encouragements on the hustings to the toxic critiques of commentators and the pseudoscientific methodologies of pollsters?

All of it untethered and much of it misleading, as 2019 so clearly proved.

But if Morrison is still into auguries, what dark forebodings must he be reading from them now?

There are plenty about.

The travails of HMAS Adelaide might seem like an odd one to select, but look closer.

Tasked with getting urgent supplies to tsunami-stricken Tonga after the January 14 volcanic eruption, Australia, as the big chook in the region, moved to help.

With runways covered in ash, assistance was deliverable only by sea - meaning vital relief could not arrive as fast as actually required. Sounding familiar?

Then, just hours into the voyage, several Adelaide crew exhibited COVID-19 symptoms - a looming disaster for the vessel (although predictable) and a major problem for Tonga given its COVID-free status.

Urgent top-brass meetings ensued, and remedial arrangements were devised for contactless unloading. This "embuggerance" meant even more laborious processes, but again, it would get there in the end.

Then, while docked in situ, Australia's largest naval asset became stranded, suffering a total power failure - that's total - including any back-up power, the ABC reported.

Here was a metaphor for the Coalition's response to COVID: delayed by foreseeable problems for which it was underprepared, and finally dead in the water. Technically auguries are birds - making HMAS Adelaide what, a sitting duck?

The past week for Morrison was supposed to be the turning point from a woeful summer.

A visit to the National Press Club would start a new conversation.

Morrison's narrative would concentrate minds on the economy, jobs, and optimism.

The severity of the Omicron wave, however, was such that the bulk of the speech was consumed dancing around problems like rapid test kit supplies, the worsening crisis in aged care, and a long-overdue prime ministerial acknowledgement of voter unhappiness.

But things really went south during the post-speech Q and A.

If you thought Emmanuel Macron's revelation of being lied to by Morrison last year was embarrassing, try the old text messages between Gladys Berejiklian and an unnamed federal Liberal (supposedly a current Morrison minister) in which the PM is described by her as a "horrible person", and by the minister as a "fraud" and a "complete psycho".

Then came the Joyce text where the (now) Deputy PM had described Morrison as a liar and a hypocrite, and someone who "rearranged the truth into a lie".

These private views vindicate Malcolm Turnbull's public claim a few months back that he was often lied to by Morrison.

The unique authority of these revelations is that they come from inside the tent, and they tell a consistent story of deceit.

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They complete a picture of the ruthless political operator behind the carefully crafted everyman image.

Breakfast television has been dominated all week by these withering personal critiques, the crisis in aged care, and new revelations obtained by 7.30 under FOI about how fastidiously the French were deceived over the $90 billion submarine contract.

Morrison had been able to stare down the polls in 2019 because of a holy trinity of his own: he had little to lose, as the government was already trailing when he assumed the leadership; he possessed a bulletproof self-belief; and he faced an opposition leader who was both well-known and unpopular. A deadly combination.

Remember his line, "You vote for me, you'll get me. You vote for Bill Shorten and you'll get Bill Shorten"?

Don't expect him to revive that one. Telling voters that if they vote for Anthony Albanese, they'll get Anthony Albanese, may be telling them they'll get exactly what they want.

Projecting calm competence, Albanese has positioned himself as Morrison did in 2019 - not particularly well-known, but not actively disliked either.

Labor is streets ahead, according to Newspoll, but most telling is that the two leaders are almost even-stevens as preferred PM.

Albanese knows he will win if he keeps the focus on Morrison's character.

Morrison can't run as the unknown this time. His colleagues have seen to that with devastating effect.