Weekend at Nikki's - a matter of Truss.

Labour weekend, traditionally the first BBQ of the year, perhaps the first swim for those brave enough. This year a clandestine meeting of the National caucus, without their leader, to brainstorm and plot - hosted by Nicola Willis, current deputy leader.

Nikki had sent out the invitations: Ladies a plate, no vegan sausages or plant burgers. Gentlemen - casual dress, and a bottle - not alcohol free. She had been very careful to ensure it didn't accidentally go to you-know-who.

In different circumstances Nikki would have been using such a BBQ to test the waters, the numbers, for a leadership challenge but things were going well enough under the bumbling fool, he'd get his shot at the election, he might even win.

Her plan had always been to take over the leadership following a narrow defeat and lead the party to glory in 2026. Becoming the next, and first millennial, Prime Minister of New Zealand.

“So you’re saying our leader is all sausage and no sizzle?”

The leader was up in Auckland probably going to some family event in Botany, mugging for cameras with hot chips and a soft drink, as if he were some local first-term MP. He was some bloody local first term MP, she thought - "how the bloody hell is he leader and I'm not?"

Chris Bishop (CB) had told the God Squad, as they both liked to call them, Penk, O’Connor and Brown, that it was fancy dress. He was practically wetting himself with laughter when she sidled up to him and popped the snot bubble that was forming.

Penk was wearing a red baseball cap that said "Bring Back Crusher” and a blue spandex wrestlers outfit. It was intended to be ironic, the people that usually wore those red caps being in to pro wrestling, but it looked like a mankini as he hadn’t been able to find one quite large enough. 

O’Connor had a shirt that said "Time for the resurrection” and was carrying a full sized crucifix, and Simeon had a nun’s habit on with a large sign hanging around his neck saying “In Chris We Trust”

Nikki herself was wearing a bulky T-Shirt over the top of some sensible jeans, it said “Weekend at Nikki’s 2022” and had a photoshopped picture of CB and herself carrying the leader between them wearing sunglasses and clearly incapacitated. “What do you think CB?” she said giving a twirl. On the back the shirt read “Bring out your Dead”.

“I see they got rid of Liz Truss” said CB who had come dressed as Boris Johnson, he was quite proud he didn’t have to wear a wig just some spray on dye. Apparently his hair cut was just right, and he didn’t get told that often.

“People want someone Truss worthy” said Nikki grinning then looked at Simeon’s sign and imagined it said “With Chris We’re Trussed”. She might come across as a heartless cold bitch, she might dress like your mum used to if she was going to a wedding in 1983, of someone she didn’t know very well and didn’t particularly like, she might be a conniving backstabbing witch - or so she’d heard them say - especially the God Squad, but she knew her way around a Dad Joke, bad puns a speciality.

“Alright that’s enough of that” piped up Chris Penk interrupting. He joined them looking as serious as he could muster in his outfit, “lettuce pray”, he intoned smiling. The others were stunned, they’d never heard him tell a joke before.

“Don’t moan about the price of these, they’re out of season idiots”

“Now now” said Paul Goldsmith, the token tangata whenua in the group. “Don’t forget the Truss and Luxon tax plans are completely different. Liz wanted to drop the top rate from 45p to 40p and had no plan to pay for it, whereas Chris wants to drop the top rate from 39c to 33c…”

The others waited for the punchline, for the great reveal, but no one really wanted to articulate funding tax cuts through austerity. Well except for Nicola, and she wasn’t even all that interested in the tax cuts! 

“Their’s is in pence whereas ours is in cents?” CB mused unenthusiastically.

“For goodness sake now they’re talking about getting Boris back, it’s like he is their least worst option” groaned Nikki before adding “sound familiar?” There was some sniggering around the room. “Right, now Party games” said Nikki clapping and giggling at using the word “party” at a… oh heck you get it.

Of the games they played, "Privatise the Public Sector for Profit" was the real hit this year. CB had gotten Preschool Education - child's play, whereas Nikki had been dealt Mental Health, quite a challenge, but one she was up to!

She didn’t tell CB it was Diwali on Monday, but Holi was six months away.

“Kiss Marry Kill” hadn't gone so well, in fact some of the answers given about people present had gone very very badly. Not for the first time Nikki was glad the National Party didn't “do” HR

Meanwhile in Tamaki Makaurau the leader was on his third hot dog at the local sports game, “Go Local Team!”, and was having the same thoughts. Truss had to resign under pressure from the media - what if he came under pressure like that here?

Then he laughed heartily - the NZ media put a National leader under pressure, that’ll be the day! Still if he was thinking like this his MPs would be too. Were they plotting now he wondered, it had been very quiet in terms of messages today.

There had been one that popped up, something about a BBQ - which was weird because he wasn’t aware of any BBQ, and the notification had disappeared like it was being recalled before he had a chance to read it properly.

A BBQ would be good he thought, imagine that photo op - Watties Tomato Sauce and Coke Zero Sugar, “but what if you had a BBQ at a local sports game” he said out loud, he thought this might be his greatest idea yet so he wrote it down quickly.

Back in Wellington the food had been eaten, the drink drunk and people started to make their way home.

As the rest of the guests left Nikki clasped her hands behind CB’s neck, his hands clumsily on her waist, they swayed listening to the music and she closed her eyes and imagined it was her time, all her dreams so close to being realised…

CB belched loudly and said, in what would have been a great Scottish accent if the Scottish person concerned had lived their whole life in Belfast - “they may take our lives, but they’ll never take our emissions”, he overbalanced and fell chin first into the dog’s bean bag.

And Nikki sang...