Back at school in the early 1980s, Annastacia Palaszczuk answered to a few nicknames: “Stacia’’, “Dag’’ and “Chook’’ – a play on her surname – amongst them. And it was her 1986 graduating yearbook that hints at a political career.

“Chook’s ambitions in life,’’ it read, “are: to finish one Biol prac, to ski in a semi-upright position, to enter the Guinness Book of Records as the person to have eaten the most cream donuts, to pass her ballet team before entering an aged people’s home and to top it off, a PM-ship to get the country into an even bigger mess!!!’’.

The skiing, cream donuts and ballet class have probably all gone by the wayside, as she climbed the political ladder to become Queensland’s 39th premier, in 2015. And the PM-ship might still be a hope, but that’s probably as unlikely as a ballet career too.

Increasingly, even those in her own party, are wondering whether she is “turning up’’ like she once did. It’s easy to blame a new boyfriend or time in the job or even the need for a better work-life balance after a pandemic that stole too much from all of us.

No doubt exists she has delivered for Labor and herself; in 2020, she became the first Australian female premier to win three terms.

But half-way through this term, how would you judge the performance of the government she leads? And does Labor deserve an historic fourth term?

Based on every piece of evidence, the answer has to be a loud, clear ‘no’. But even if it does, it’s increasingly unlikely – according to those who support her – that she will be at the helm.

That might be her choice. An Olympics job? A quieter life? A well-deserved career change? A realignment of her public and private lives?

But if she stays on, it might be the choice of Queenslanders to send her packing, given they have been repeatedly let down this term by sloppy leadership and government that is opaque, non-responsive and motivated by power more than serving those who employ it.

Just take the police service, for example. Youth crime is out of control, or that’s the perception the length and breadth of the state. And if it’s not, perhaps the Government can release the secret information it has to prove their policies are working.

But it’s just not youth crime. Break-and-enters. Road rage. Drug-fuelled violence and theft. Suburban shootings in the quiet of night. Alleged car jackings in residential streets. Home invasions. The list goes on.

Police shootings, where the automatic response is to blame the victim. Perhaps that’s deserved, but when it is a police officer who pulls the trigger, the public – and the victim’s family – deserve an investigation before judgement.

A police culture that throws up as many concerns as the tawdry era that led to Tony Fitzgerald re-inventing police and public policy in this state.

That’s just police. The politicisation of the public service. A health system that, on some days, looks terminal. Don’t get me started on the casino; the gem we were told that would spread glitter across the city. The DNA scandal. Cost blowouts on the Cross River Rail. The ballooning cost of the Gabba refurbishment. A social housing shortage. A looming landlord rebellion. A land tax stuff-up. And what even went on in the Wellcamp deal?

Shallow debate. Policy that appeases. An unfathomable determination not to consult or listen to those who are affected by government policy.

And that latter trait is the one that baffles me most. Annastacia Palaszczuk was an antidote, in 2015, for a brash premier who thought there were only two roads: his way, or the highway.

Palaszczuk saw that, and early in her term, would spend hours and days and weeks listening to constituents across the state, as well as those who didn’t always agree with her. It was a delightful change.

But now is there anyone who works for her who dares to disagree? Based on evidence that trickles out of inquiry after inquiry, that answer is also ‘no’.

So if Annastacia Palaszczuk is not at the helm at the next election, who might take her place?

The mark of a leader is the maturity they show in determining a succession plan. Steven Miles tops the list, although those on the inside say Attorney-General Shannon Fentiman should not be dismissed.

But who are they? Would you know them if you spotted them this week on a wine tour in Stanthorpe?

And what do they stand for, apart from remaining in power?

Governments lose elections. Oppositions rarely win them. And that should be an almighty reminder to Annastacia Palaszczuk and her Labor team that this term is already half over.