I have been beating up on Andrew Little and Labour a lot lately so its time to even things up a bit because nothing brings the bile to my throat more than the goons that inhabit the National Party and now with John Key no longer there to protect them its clobbering time!
There has been a certain stench of smugness around Wellington lately which is emanating from National regarding its political fortunes come September 2017.
The smugness itself is that brand particular to National which is a turgid mix of born to rule arrogance of those who believe themselves to be New Zealand’s governing elite and the bug eyed ideological certainty that only a foaming at the mouth rabid zealot can exhibit.
And to give the greedy little munchkins, that squat around the cabinet table, their due there is a reason to be upbeat about September but most of that is not due to anything they are doing but rather Labours sad attempts to get its house in order which mostly come off as the kind of blunders one would expect to see from an adult giraffe (complete with bathing cap and goggles) attempting to swim in a child size inflatable paddling pool (full of jelly!).
Yes, in this autumn of discontent, this season of the slug, National can peer forward with their beady little eyes and see the golden gates of electoral success opening and the party being ushered forward into a mythical fourth term as voters anoint them the chosen.
But I did not come here to praise Bill “why aren’t you John Key” English and the rest of misanthropes that are now congealing around him as National gear up for the big showdown in September, I came here to bury him.
And to help get the spade swinging let us put on our magical time traveling pants, click our heels together, say “there is no place like a neoliberal free market paradise” three times and with glittering trails of fairy dust wafting behind us journey forwards to somewhere in the year 2019.
As we land in the fantastical year of 2019 what do our eyes spy?
To start Bill English has been replaced by a highly animated sock puppet which looks suspiciously like John Key because no-one was fooled by English’s desperate attempts in 2017 to try and emulate his dark mentor in the media friendly stakes by cooking up a spaghetti and pineapple pizza, as a means to distract the public from a string of public relations bungles (Superannuation, Fresh Water, immigration tweaks and the drug crazed unemployed terrorizing honest employers).
So at first it was a few subtle cloning’s of JKs behavior and mannerisms but that did not work and so it was off to the plastic surgeon and tailors (possibly the same who do Judith Collins) for a “makeover”.
English decided to get a personality transplant (one of those “bland white man in a suit” but still a guy who would mock his crappy cooking on social media types), morality injections (he is a compassionate “Catlick”, honest!) and was scheduled to appeared in a series of articles in women’s magazines (to show that he is not a flesh eating reptiliod: at least not in public).
But there were complication in the surgery as the deeper the spin doctors cut the more hollow they found the patient to be, it was if the Bill had been sucked empty of all his character and integrity by some dark force in the prevailing 20 years.
And so with the beeps of the EKG showing that they were losing credibility they opted for a radical new procedure to save the situation.
The result: a human sock puppet modeled to look and sound like John Key and dancing to the dictate of the hand (or hands) up its backside.
And the rest of National has not turned out any better.
Paula “product of the welfare state” Bennett has decorated large swathes of the Beehive and Bowen House in Leopard skin and channeling her inner Dolores Umbridge, has anointed herself with the title of “High Inquisitor” and declared a Jihad on “the drug addled scourge of the human unemployed that threaten our glorious new prosperity” by having all people on a benefit submit to mandatory urine testing on a daily basis. Truly her work has set her free.
Judith “unhinged jaw” Collins finally succumbed to the beast within and went on a rampage down Lampton Quay in a scene eerily similar to that in An American Werewolf in London and was only brought to heel by the brave efforts of the public, who, using a combination of dog biscuits and a rolled up newspaper, managed to contain her in the back of the Old Bailey moments before the AOS were due to charge in, Taser guns blazing. She is now recovering in an exclusive rest home in China.
Jerry “The Brown Eminence” Brownlee knighted himself Lord of Christchurch and set about denying that there were ever any problems with the rebuild whenever there was problem with the rebuild (all that CERA and insurance corruption for starters) and then trying to shout down and belittle any dissent from the beleaguered citizens. He was last seen being chased by a horde of rats into one of the abandoned buildings which still line Cathedral Square. The body was never found but the rat population doubled overnight.
And the list goes on: Nick Smith disappeared while swimming in a perfectly safe swimmable river, presumed drowned but recently sightings of a humanoid creature the locals call “Scummy McScumface” have caused people to think again; Nathan Guy was made unemployed when a cheap offshore clone of himself was was found to replace him; Stephen Joyce was discovered a be controlled by a six meter long tape worm living inside him which had been slowly taking over his mind and personality since 2003 and which had somehow laid eggs inside most of the senior management in MBIE.
And so on and so forth.
In New Zealand itself the housing hernia had swollen into a cancerous tumor and had metastasized its way across the land; Cars had been banned for all citizens so that tourists could have the right of way, any way or any time they wanted and the speed limit had been reduced to 30 kilometers an hour so that they could take as many pictures as they needed without stopping; Fonterra had merged with the SIS and GCSB and was run by Peter Theil which had created a new range of milk, called Soma, which made you libertarian when you drank it and to happily give over all your meta-data to any foreign power or shady intelligence agency which was asking for it; and Queenstown is now a gated community, off limits to anyone with less than a million dollars or a foreign passport.
Finally there were the Prosperity Riots of 2018 when people, who did not realize that unaffordable housing, child poverty, declining healthcare and policing were “problems of success” and went on a rampage up Queen Street in Auckland which then touched off similar scenes across the country.
Of course the sock puppet and his friends went on social media to do something zany (like making a pizza out of a dead Weka) and then declared a wonderful new policy which would come into effect in the year 2090 that would fix all the issues, but the rioters foolishly did not listen to the "good news" and instead occupied several million dollar ex state houses that had been sold at market rates the year before.
Some people say it was all just bad luck but others (with longer memories) say it was the curse of Jack Marshall and the spirit of 72 come back to haunt them.
So now let’s click our heels three times again, say “time for a change” and be whisked back to April 2017 with all its dreary political nonsense.
As voters, 2017 is going to be an important year to go out and vote.
Not just because it’s time for a change but because the damage another three years of National will do is not worth the cost of being complacent about things or believing National to be the only choice come polling day.
Also my source inside the party tells me that come budget day expect the usual lolly scramble of money to distract the voters from the deadly Smilex gas about to be unleashed.
This election you should vote for whatever party you wish but if I can paraphrase Nietzsche here, whoever votes for monsters should see to it that they do not become monsters themselves. And if you vote long enough for any one party then into the abyss New Zealand will go.
*-And if you’re wondering where those words come from, click here.