David has a Good Friday.

It was beautiful day. David Seymour was feeling a bit hungover and in need of caffeine but he had nothing in the pantry – I should get one of those emergency food packages he thought, I wonder if they come with beans or ground Espresso?

Instead he popped down the road to see his deputy, Brooke. He wasn’t sure if she was home, it had been a big night down at the viaduct celebrating a return to Orange – it was a great night although he got stuck at one pointing listening to that ghastly Leo Molloy moaning about Sunday trading. There were heavy curtains closed but he knocked and she buzzed him in.

Brooke had put that weird priestess cloak on she liked to pretend was for fancy dress parties. The Eagles Witchy Woman was playing. She brought him a nice buttered hot cross bun, dancing across the room to the music. “Eat this bun and think of me” she said, “especially when the butter runs down your chin”.

Then she took a chalice, the one they usually saved for when Roger Douglas came over and filled it. She handed it to him and said “drink this wine for a real good time”. It was Ribena, David’s favourite, but for some reason when Brooke drank it she let it run down from the corners of her mouth as if she were some sort of living dead vampire creature.

She did have quite a pale complexion. He stopped and wondered whether he’d ever seen her out in sunlight before, he ended up with an expression more vacant than the hearts of his financial backers.

He thought he’d go for a bit of a walk and get some breakfast at a nice café instead. He noticed that a lot of the shops were shut and the cafes that were open had a 15% surcharge. He asked at one what it was for and they said holiday pay for the workers - he realized he’d lost his appetite.

He was deep in thought wondering why the workers should be paid for taking a holiday, didn’t seem right – what sort of lesson was that for people?

After a while he found himself standing outside of the Prime Minister’s house.

Jacinda was hanging out the laundry and Neve was in the garden looking for Easter eggs.

“Where is Clarke Gayford?” he called over the fence. “He is inside silly”, she giggled. “Mummy there is a funny man here asking where Daddy is.”

“Oh hello David”, said the Prime Minister. “How unusual to see you here, would you like a cup of tea?” David’s mind raced. Was she proposing a cup of tea - Epsom style?

“I was just asking the little one where Clarke was – out fishing?” The PM scowled, “well at least she is laughing, we’ve had a bit of trouble with mean kids at preschool asking where Clarke is – goodness knows where they get such an idiotic question from”. David thought of all the memes his supporters had been sending him asking where Clarke was, they found them hilarious – it was all a bit odd he thought.

“Now Neve, remember the Easter Bunny doesn’t come until Sunday”, said Jacinda, “and only if you’ve been good”. “Mum, are you and Dad the Easter Bunny?” Neve asked. “No dear”, said Jacinda , “Uncle Grant is the Easter bunny, the eggs represent bonuses to the poor for all their good work – Grant makes sure there is a little more in the kitty for them”. “Mum”, said Neve – “is there an Easter Cat?”

David slunk off, this talk of bonuses for good works was making him hungry. Mt Albert was nice but he decided that was enough time out in the boondocks and he’d take a bus back into town. He was just thinking how nice it would be if there was a camera crew here when Julie Anne Genter, road past waving to him – “lovely day for a bike ride!”.

He shuddered and thought how terrible it would be if there was a camera crew around – not only was she on a bike but she had a basket of eggs saying “Free-Range”. David shuddered again, you just knew they were plain old chicken’s eggs rather than yummy chocolate – no fun the Greens, although he had heard good things about their mushroom tea.

He got off the bus in Ponsonby and as he walked down through Freemans Bay, spotted Winston Peters searching though a collection of pot plants on his verandah. David, proud of his new knowledge, said “Winston, I think you’ll find the Bunny doesn’t come until Sunday.”

Winston turned to him with a big grin, he’d found a packet of Winston Blues and a bottle of whiskey. “Stuff and nonsense” said Winston, “Rabbits don’t bring these things, I hid them here earlier – supposed to be giving up, bugger that.” He held his phone up and said “look at this Facebook thingy. There is a post from me saying Maori want half of all Easter eggs under that bloody treaty.”

He said – “you do realize you are Maori eh Winston?” Winston got very cross – “You young whippersnapper, I’ll have you know I’m a New Zealander First.”

Next he carried on into the city until he came to a small protest outside of the TVNZ building. It was Louisa Wall.

Louisa asked him – “do you think the Easter Bunny keeps a record of who has been naughty or nice?” David wasn’t too sure who was keeping lists but naughty or nice sounded like a phrase he’d heard before.

Then he remembered it had been something Brooke had asked him and he’d replied “nice”. When she arrived that day she was dressed like a member of Gloriavale with her skirt down to her ankles. He thought about her ankles and wondered how much raunchier things would have been if he’d said naughty.

“The reason I ask”, said Louisa, “is a few years back I was on top of the list, not a nationwide list a local one, but I was top. Then they decided I wasn’t the top of the list any more and that is just not fair”.

David tried to look sincere – “So what does that mean for you?” She said “it means if I can’t have the biggest Easter egg then I don’t want one at all” and she threw the basket she was carrying onto the footpath and jumped on it until it was kindling.

He was a bit confused, “if you want chocolate can’t you just buy it yourself?” He closed his eyes enjoyed the warmth of the sun and thought of all the Instagram followers he’d gotten this week. Everything has its price David, he could picture Roger saying those words. One of his greatest lessons.

On the way back to Parnell he cut through the Domain and ran into Brian Tamaki who was giving a sermon to the people setting up a stage for a rally on Sunday. Seemed to be a lot of sermons at this time of the year thought David, he got enough of those listening to Jacinda in the house.

He asked one of the workers what the rally was about – Freedom apparently. He couldn’t work what they needed to be free from but he liked the word, he’d almost renamed the party the Freedom Party like some of his favourite parties up in Europe but it turned out Ian Taylor had already trademarked the name.

There was quite a festival vibe in the park, the leaders of the Maori party were there too handing out fliers, which Tamaki’s disciples were then collecting from the people that were reading them.

He thought he’d pop over and say hello and that there were no hard feelings towards them personally for the advantages the state gave them. “What do you people do for Easter?” he asked – “We like to have a boil up,” said Rawiri – “here have a closer look in the pot David” he laughed.

“Ha you can’t trick me into the pot” laughed David, “I’m Ngāpuhi”. Then he realized he was Tangata Whenua, advantages to Maoris didn’t sound so bad after all, not when he was one.

Christopher Luxon was sitting in front of the museum. David asked “aren’t you supposed to be at that church of yours? Chris said “it’s closed, not Covid, we’re worried that David Farrier is going to turn up looking for an expose, so god’s house is closed for the day”.

No one working today thought David, not even the big man – no wonder the country was such a mess.

He headed home wondering why the bunny never brought him any eggs.