Twas the night after the release of the accounts and all through the house
Not a speech was occurring, no bills to announce.
Parliament was on recess for the school holidays but Nicola Willis was busy in her office, the leader might be “on a break” but someone had to get the work done. She kept waking with the nightmare that the election came and they still hadn’t written any policies.
The leader popped his head round the corner, “I was looking over some laws I thought of changing, what price would you put on a human life Nikki?” She looked up, swallowed back the voice screaming in her head “FFS we haven’t even got a confirmed tax policy because you keep changing it depending on how you fold under questioning like you’re being interviewed by origami experts, and you’re working on this crap?” but instead she smiled.
Then together in unison like the lead-in to the big number in a Broadway Musical they both yelled "it depends whose it is!" This she had found was the leaders’ preferred method for discussing potentially awkward topics, turn them into show tunes.
After they finished laughing she said she’d heard him on RNZ yesterday describing the government, “funny thing is I could’ve sworn I heard you use the phrase “rinky-dink” to describe a government initiative”, he grinned looking a bit like a happy egg on the side of a packet of free range.
“So you did say rinky-dink. Have you just time travelled here from the 1920s? Even Wayne Brown wouldn't use a word like that and he’s 92! Why stop there, why not call them nincompoops and gollywompers?”
He looked a bit down having thought he’d done so well, she took pity on him. “The damage is already done” she sang smiling at him, he smiled back and joined her “the damage is already done”.
That’s what I should have said he acknowledged. “And don’t forget”, she said breaking into the chorus, “our taxes are different than their taxes because their taxes are not ours, and our taxes are not their taxes because their taxes are different than ours! Yes they’re different than ours! SO MUCH DIFFERENT THAN OURS!”
“You know”, said the leader “the funny thing is our top tax rate is already lower than the one they wanted to drop to. Our millionaires already pay less tax than they would under the British policy so outrageous they had to do a reassessment.”
“A reassessment?”, laughed Nicola, “you mean a u-turn?”. The leader became serious “No, when Labour changes something it is a flip flop and indicates they don’t know what they’re doing, like the Jobs tax, but when we do it then it’s a prudent assessment for sound financial management.”
She said “you do know there is no such thing as a jobs tax right, it’s the same policy we had ourselves we’re just calling theirs names to appeal to the sort of people that think name calling is better than sound analysis”. “Yes yes” said the leader, “but enough about the bloody media, what about the people?”
At that point the leader started to look a bit green and let out a moan. She felt bad, “don’t worry RNZ hardly questioned it, nobody else will even mention it”. Actually she was starting to feel a bit funny too, her stomach let out a long gurgling sound. The leader was now bent over clutching at his stomach, something was definitely wrong.
In a moment of clarity she could see a Bridesmaids Bridal shop scene coming on so she dashed out the door.
Right into the end of a long queue of their caucus waiting outside the only available bathroom, the rest were all under maintenance for the recess period and the smell of new floor polish heavy in the air was not helping matters.
Simeon was in the foetal position with a thumb in his mouth and the other hand over the back of his trousers in a vain attempt to hold back the inevitable.
Sam was playing some sort of drinking game where every time someone exploded at one end or the other he emptied his beer and shouted “What goes on tour stays on tour, and snitches get stitches”, then he puked into his pint glass.
Erica was slouched against the wall she had sun glasses and headphones on, she was listening intensely and dancing with a big grin despite the fact that the headphones weren’t plugged into anything.
Nicola hissed at her “Erica, Erica are you not sick? Where have you been I don’t remember seeing you at the restaurant last night” Erica looked at her for a while “Nikki baby is that you, wow you’re looking so beautiful” Nicola didn’t feel particularly beautiful she was contemplating throwing up into a potted plant next to the wall.
“Yeah I didn’t come out with the team, it’s my week to buddy up to the Greens so I had a cuppa with them. It didn’t taste like Earl Grey, I asked Chloe what it was but she just kept saying “you’re not in East Coast Bays now Erica”, then after some time she bit James Shaw’s head off, like literally the whole head swallowed it and his body ran around the place saying - where’s my head Chloe I told you last time this isn’t funny”.
Nicola considered popping down to the Greens offices to see if they had any alternative medicines that might help but decided to go with the conventional solution of feeding the potted plant, she noticed it was plastic. Bet they’re not plastic on the Greens floor she though before noticing she had vomit in her hair.
On the floor above the Finance Minister was on his knees in his office, not from over celebrating the finances being so much better than anyone thought, nor thanking a higher power, the Prime Minister was already present and watching events from his couch.
No, he was playing a game with Jacinda’s young daughter Neve. She was an elf and he was playing a centaur, presently raised up on his hind legs to greet her. As he did he inexplicably found himself releasing a loud and long rumbling fart he hadn't been aware was there.
Neve clapped her hands and yelled to her mum "Uncle Grant is playing his bum trumpet again and it's really loud". The sound echoed around like the sound of one of Aotearoa's most loved cats stuck up a tree. The PM rolled her eyes and laughed "looks like we'll have to increase the tax on tinned beans Mister Finance”, as he dashed for the door.
Meanwhile Dr Reti was called to the office of Nicola Willis where the leader was looking a little shell shocked. He told them he was concerned about the plan to axe the winter energy payment and use the money to remove the highest tax rate. The leader said he shouldn't worry, that generation respects sacrifice.
He frowned and then he looked the leader over, “definitely looks like food poisoning, did any of the team have the same thing to eat?”, “Yes we all had mild butter chicken, its the only curry most of them will eat, even then Maureen was concerned it might be a bit exotic”.
He was then called by the Prime Minister and disappeared up a floor where Doctor Verrall had already checked the government MPs. He told the PM “looks like a dodgy curry, our team are all sick except me, and I only nibbled some poppadoms and Erica who is on a trip. But your team are not - Grant have you been eating with our team in the spirit of all being glad the country was doing so well?”, he asked optimistically.
Grant looked sheepish. “I got in about 3am and I was starving, there were all these half eaten bowls of curry left in the hallway so I sort of helped myself, I didn’t think anyone wanted them”.
“Well it is probably the curry”, said Dr Reti “but until the lab tests come back we can’t take any chances, I’m placing this building under quarantine”.
News travelled fast about the lock down, soon there were people outside on the forecourt of parliament with placards…
Turn the sprinklers on!
Play Baby Shark!
Throwing poo - harder than you think eh!
The leader watched it out the window and wondered if this might take the heat out of the whole tax cuts story. Then he noticed something - hang on was that Erica out there holding the “Remember what the dormouse said” placard?
Hillarious Nick. I'm tucked up in bed at 9.30 a.m. reading this,Did Luxon really say that on RNZ./? I was supposed to be at the dog groomers by 9.30 with my little dog. We've waited a month for this appt.-there's a shortage of doggroomers in Dunners. App cancelled by them but I was phoning to say Icouldn't get there anyway because my place is covered in snow. Driveway covered in snow-car will be, and road will be.I have 180 degree views over Dunedin.Looking out my tree,tops are covered in lacy white shawls.Beautiful but bloody coldMost buses are cancelled, and the road north out of Dunedin closed. The mayor has put the word outfor people to stay home.We haven't had snow like this for several years.Not on my side of town which is open to the sea-it usually doen't settle.And not in October.
Oh so witty .... oh so witty, so witty and frank!! etc. Love the show tunes analogy. Had some good chuckles. Well done, Nick.