Empty Lift Shaft.

The great and smiley leader (2.0) was feeling discouraged. The PM was back in front of the nation, and he was achieving zero cut-through other than reminding the country that he used to be a CEO.

Sure, there was coverage of Bishop gurning at every Covid response, and his cheerleaders at ZB were coming back on board after the holidays, but what he really needed, he thought, were some policies to run up the flag pole.

Judith popped into his office and wished him well for the New Year; he didn’t feel better. She seemed lighter like a weight had been removed from her shoulders. He explained the predicament, and she asked whether anyone had told him about the policy room – they’re supposed to tell you when you become the leader.

He followed the directions and opened the door with the words “Empty Lift Shaft” stencilled on it. It wasn’t so much a chamber of secrets as a large closet, and he was surprised to find his deputy already within. You took your time, she said, I was just updating the housing policy.

He noticed the sheet of A4 in her hand; someone had used an old-fashioned typewriter and put the word “Buy”, after which someone else, presumably Nicola, had added with a sharpie “as many as possible”. Good policy he thought, it’s not rocket science this housing thingy.

There was a silver whistle engraved “D Brash” hanging on the back of the door with a label that read, “In case of emergencies, blow this”. Then it fine print it said “For best results use while talking about Maori, but don’t say the word Maori. Instead say something like gang members; the supporters will know what you mean.”

Nicola said why don’t we practice answering media questions? Here is one that was on the news the other night – “Earlier variants saw Maori disproportionately impacted, how do we ensure that Maori don’t get hammered this time?”

The leader placed the whistle around his neck and replied, “Don’t sell them any alcohol,” and gave his best Billy T James laugh. He hoped a bit of humour would help people see him as more human, but maybe they were too PC, or whatever they called it these days.

Nicola looked at him for a long time before finally asking “are you out of your fucking mind?” Hmm, all very well for her, he thought; the Herald is already publishing articles suggesting she will be the future leader; he had to connect with people. Still, perhaps best to save that one for a public meeting in Timaru or somewhere – they’ll love it.

There was a folder titled S Bridges, but it only contained a note saying “IOU One Policy”. Also one titled T Muller – but it was empty, and hadn’t been opened.

Then he spied a folder entitled “Winning the heart of the nation by J Key”, that’s more like it he thought – the mother lode from the main man himself, this would help him take it to the next level.

Inside it read “Nothing says patriotism like the All Blacks, get as close to them as possible for photos, and get the public listening to the views of rugby players rather than experts. Don’t actually admit you were pro-tour, apparently an unpopular position these days - tell anyone asking that you never heard of it.”

Sound advice thought the leader remembering that Zinzan Brooke was in the media the other day. When it came to the Covid approach who better for the country to listen to than Zinzan? His opinions on Ivermectin and Hydroxychloroquine aside.

No one loves New Zealand like Zinzan. Sure he chooses not to live here, hasn’t done for decades, but that doesn’t make him any less beloved. Not by the kind of Kiwi who knows having a number eight that can kick a drop goal from half way is the sort of thing we should be proud of, not a pandemic response.

There was a policy on health, which even indicated it had been updated, author C Bishop. The original policy said, “Cigarettes are probably bad for you” The word ‘bad’ had been crossed out and replaced with the word ‘good’; apart from that, there were just some bank statements.

There was an enormous box labelled Finance, more good stuff thought the smiley one, our sweet spot, our secret sauce. It was empty other than a small scrap of paper about the size you find in a fortune cookie. He took it eagerly; there were only two words “tax cuts”. That Bill English really knew his stuff, thought Chris, simple and to the point.

A policy on welfare reform authored by R Richardson. Finally someone relevant today thought the great smiley one thinking of how Ruth had just joined the board of the New Zealand Tax Haters’ Union. The policy read, “The poor don’t vote for us, just let them die. Yes - all of them”.

It seemed a bit extreme, thought Christopher, but she is remembered as the mother of the nation, so worth consideration. Hmm might have to change the wording a bit.

Nicola asked whether he’d found what he needed – no need to reinvent the wheel she said. He beamed – yes, there was plenty of low-hanging fruit here to leverage.

The great and smiley leader (2.0) felt much better.