The Ministry of Bag

Dust gets in your eyes, and the case of the stolen pom-poms.

It's all swamp and no mosquitoes
along the stripes of pin
The boots have all the vetoes
and the bags to put them in
It's all blues and no dinner
at the Ministry of Bag
The steaks are getting thinner
the office is a drag

Song - Jack Bruce

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The Ministry of Bag, or Ministry of Bagging the left, to use its full title, was an ancient building echoing with journalism long gone.

If you’ve been into the old offices you’ll know the rabbit warren of corridors and rooms where once reporters burned the midnight hours to deliver the news. Rather than interviewing their typewriters and trotting out right wing views to order, with only Simon Wilson as a solitary glance in the direction of balance.

"People waiting for a bus outside the New Zealand Herald building in the vicinity of 55 Albert Street, near the corner of Wyndham Street (centre background)." Photo: Paul McCredie, 1989.

This morning in Granny’s new home something was amiss, with a Miss, or a Ms, or perhaps a Mrs. It doesn’t pay to ask these things and it’s entirely irrelevant in any case. Why must we know and label women? A friend, Chris, asked on social media recently.

My comment was that I thought it peculiar and tended to to say Ms when I write, unless it’s obvious that someone is married. Like Judith Collins, I really don’t think you can say Ms Crusher - it loses the effect. Of course the moment you acknowledge that your salutation of choice infers something then it’s clearly sexist and absurd that in the 21st century we do this with women and not men. Why do we do that?

Why do we need to identify that a woman is married, or not? Is it so we can adjust our behaviour accordingly? Treating her one way if she might be “available” or placing her in a different box if she is not. Don’t you think it’s weird? Or have I missed some vital purpose that referencing the marital status of the female of the species serves?

Anyway back to the Herald’s daily serving to ensure that people feel good about the voting choices they’ve made while consuming the advertising for the products being promoted. Be it a new urban assault vehicle for the school run, or the racist lies of Hobson’s Pledge. It’s all just stuff for sale.

As I was saying, something was amiss. Normally we expect declarations of admiration for National in general, and Luxon in particular, from Audrey Young. Perhaps Aunt Audrey had overdosed on her latest sugar hit, issuing bouquets to the Prime Minister this week, and was nursing her insulin levels? Whatever the case Claire Trevett had stolen her pom-poms and was leading the cheers this morning.

Trevett’s paean to Mr Merciless is paywalled, so I’ll offer you a few sneaky peaks behind the Kimono…

Claire tells us, “Governments tend to cop the blame for pretty much everything, so it’s little wonder they try to share it around when the opportunity presents itself. This week delivered them some prime alternative scapegoats: in the form of the big banks and councils.”

So isn’t that nice? Claire expressing sympathy for the government over the blame that comes it’s way. Not a word on why this lot might be facing criticism, just a false generality that it is what always happens, so nothing to see here.

Far from considering anything that might cast Luxon in any negative light we’re told this so we can cheer at the government having a chance to give some back for a change. Our government, the people in charge, who generally just take things on the chin and never point fingers of blame at anyone else.

Sarcasm you say? No, I’m good - I already had a double shot before I started writing.

Righto, so we’re rubbing our hands together in anticipation about the good guys - that’s the government, sticking the boot into the bad guys - the big banks and councils. At this point feel free to boo and hiss the scapegoats, which is essentially the same as purring for the government - speaking of which, back to Claire.

Purr said Claire, and then she noted that Nicola Willis, champion of the people, had shaken her fist at the big banks. Meaningfully.

Look who threw that? C’mon I told you, you can boo and you can hiss, but don’t throw things no matter how annoyed you get - this is your house, or wherever you’re reading this. Actually now I’ve said that I’m kind of curious - where are you reading this?

The Minister for Funding as little as possible said she wanted to unleash Kiwibank as a “maverick” and “disruptor”. So meaningless were those words, even by the management speak of the current National leadership, that it took people a moment to realise that what she actually meant was she wanted to privatise Kiwibank. To flog it off to the highest bidder.

My apologies, I went off script there. I mean give Mom and Pop investors the chance to own their own little piece of Godzone, investing in their own country… Stop me if you’ve heard this one before… or you need me to pull over so you can vomit.

Ahh do you remember the glory days under Key when we flogged off, sorry privatised, all the energy companies so that those mom and pop nest egg’ers could help our essential services grow and become more profitable. Sarcasm aside you’d have to say it’s working, those energy companies are absolutely coining it since they were privatised. They’ve been making out like, well, mavericks I guess.

Claire continued, “The next day saw Luxon take his turn – setting Simeon Brown up to be the disruptor and maverick in the local government sector. Like the banks, councils are an easy target, especially as homeowners absorb rates increases.”

Sometimes when I read the likes of Young or Trevett I wonder if there are little telltale signs of mirth making beneath the duress of having to permanently praise people so undeserving. A cry for help, a blink indicating sentient thought beyond the drivel being served. It’s hard to imagine a stronger candidate for such that using the phrase, “setting Simeon Brown up to be the disruptor and maverick.”

It’s like you’ve gone to watch Mexican wrestling and Peewee Herman comes to the stage, presented as “The Disruptor”. Surely the announcer is taking the piss.

“My lips aren’t even moving”, Christopher Luxon. Photo: Mark Mitchell

In the golden days, when those old corridors echoed with integrity, someone at the Herald might’ve questioned why councils were such an easy target. Whether the National Party having cancelled Three Waters and lumbered ratepayers with massive increases might be part of the reason why they were so targetable. But not Claire.

The first rule of NZME National Party Fan Club is you don’t ask questions. You simply hand out more bouquets if anyone starts to twig that the complaints being made are coming from the same people who made the problem.

Not only was Claire uninterested in pointing out that much of this was Luxon’s fault, through his courage-less kowtowing to anti Maori sentiment in order to keep up with the Seymours, but she actually expressed concern that the resulting rates bills might detract from the glory of National’s tax cuts. Hallowed by thy name.

“The added salt in the wound for Luxon has been headlines about the extent to which those rates increases have eaten up National’s tax cuts, quite spoiling the effect of his string of social media memes boasting about those tax cuts”, said Trevett, without intended irony?

Luxon, also without obvious ferrous intent, told councils they’d spent too much on shiny things and not enough sorting out the pipes and the potholes. His sidekick, Simeon the Disruptor, warned them that if they spent money on pretty things they would suffer the same fate as beneficiaries who get given special cards restricting what they can spend money on.

Luxon did not bother to sugarcoat it, because his audience was not the people in the room – it was the people outside the room, the ratepayers, a fair few of whom would have been cheering him on ... It was very good politics.

Everybody has a grievance with a council; something they’re not doing well enough or something they think is a waste of money. Berms, sewage on beaches. Water pipes in Wellington. Overhanging trees. Potholes, rubbish and recycling. Cycle lanes replacing parking.

The elephant in the room, which wore a large sign around it’s neck that read “Public Heath” stirred and let forth a large flow of steaming processed food across the stage, but Claire did not notice. She was busy defending the Prime Minister from the slings and arrows of outrageous truth.

Chris Hipkins pointed out that the PM was being “rude” and “patronising”, which was definitely the case but Claire wasn’t having it. Instead she said the Labour leader, “went a bit personal in an apparent reference to Luxon’s wealth, saying it was all well and good for people who could afford their own pools and books, but not so great if they couldn’t. Luxon would not have given a fig. As far as he was concerned, in the court of public opinion it was a win for Luxon.”

I’m kind of curious where Claire is getting her “public opinion” from. You’re the public, do you think it was a win for Luxon? If so what did he win? A brief respite from the attacks on the actions of his government while saying don’t kick me kick them about local government? Does he not think people will react?

You’re not a CEO now Mr Luxon, despite acting as if you. If you attack people for no real reason other than to make yourself look tough, they will respond. Have you seen some of the people in local government? I’m not sure I’d be poking them with a stick and backing them into a corner.

As for Claire, those old offices were pretty dusty. They might cause you to blink, if you remember what once was at the Herald.

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I’ve used other songs from Jack Bruce’s Songs for a Tailor before, but I don’t think I’ve included the Ministry of Bag…