This week has been an interesting week in New Zealand politics. Here at MyThinks we thought we would ask our alt-right correspondent Richard Sevenhouses to pen a few words on his thoughts. Over to you Dick.
This week started out fine. I was enjoying chardonnay under a reddening sky on the deck of one of my beach homes. Then suddenly Clutha-Southland MP and everyone’s favourite twelve-year-old Todd Barclay got into a bit of strife after it emerged he’d left his phone on the table next to an electorate worker accidentally on purpose.
Now, yes he has denied this for a year or so, and yes, the Prime Minister has known about it for just as long and yes, the PM confirmed he had made a statement to police saying Barclay had told him there was a recording after initially saying he couldn’t remember and yes, Barclay then confirmed Bill English’s story that he had told English there was a recording when he’d been denying it all along.
This issue got all the political editors frothing at the mouth but at the end of the day the only people who care about this are those political junkies in the Aro Valley beltway and a couple of far-left Twitters. Nobody else, particularly me and my old mate Hosking, give a flying hooha about this. If you go up to the man on the street and ask him whether he cares about honest Bill English being a liar they’ll tell you they don’t. I’d stake my high-rise investment apartments on it.
Then we have the absolute horror of the Labour Party bringing in a bunch of slaves to work in a call centre doing their dirty work. This is absolutely outrageous. If I was one of those interns and I’d been flown halfway around the world for free and given the opportunity to have a unique cultural experience for free and then been given the chance to gain valuable life and work experience for free, I’d be absolutely gutted as well.
The Labour Party should be ashamed of themselves for not only creating this mess in the first place but having the audacity to own up to it and start dealing with the problem straight away.
Why not sweep it under the carpet for a year and hope no-one finds out? That’s what a real political organisation would do.
Goodbye and enjoy your weekend.
Heavy feelings ran deep in the oak-lined room. Green and red friezes adorned the area behind the lectern as the gruff unionist approached. This match was definitely not of his doing and if, as he suspected, it all turned nasty, he could not help but think he was signing his own death warrant.
They stood at the lectern as their eyes danced about knowingly. A small grunt echoed at the rear of the chamber. Mr. Gower, it seems, was struggling to maintain any semblance of decorum. It was still hours until the Newshub fanfare and he had just too much to say. He was calmed with a soothing dose of diamorphine and proceeded to allow the envelope of sleep to post his body to the chair in the corner.
The gruff one was the first to speak.
“Friends,” he regaled the waiting audience, “it is with proud heart and large trouser that I announce my engagement to this delightful woman.”
The delightful woman placed a hand over her mouth and giggled delicately. The mirage would have been complete had she not punctuated the giggle with a light snort.
“I am,” he continued, “in love with this woman. I have loved her since the first day upon which our eyes did meet. It was on that day I vowed she would be mine.”
He then turned to her and, taking her around the waste, placed an eye watering kiss upon her ample lips. The room was silent. Never before had there been such an erotically charged press conference.
Just as quickly as he arrived, he left the podium. He glanced back at her once on the way out of the room and then, like a scone at the Morrinsville bake-sale, he was gone.
She stared at he empty doorway wishing their love would last eternity but knowing he would give it all away if he needed to suckle at the teat of Mr. Winston.
Last weekend MyThinks were lucky enough to be invited behind closed doors at the Labour Party annual conference in sunny Palmerston North. Although much of the conference was closed to the media, we were lucky enough given special access to workshops and policy development forums across the weekend. Our reporter chose to spend Saturday afternoon at the Chris Trotter Memorial Debate hosted by a cardboard cutout of Jim Knox. Here is his transcript of the discussion.
KNOX: Welcome everyone to this inaugural Chris Trotter debate. The topic for today’s discussion is: Labour Debates – now and in the future. We are joined today by half a dozen delegates from around the country all here to debate Labour debates. Debating debates we’ve had in the past; debating our present debates; debating any future debates we might debate in the future. Let’s start the ball rolling. Who wants to begin?
PAPATOETOE DELEGATE: I would like to begin by affirming your introduction to this debate. You’ve both introduced the debate and welcomed us all here, which is more than I can say for the New Lynn branch who wouldn’t even stump up with a gingernut when I was up there last weekend.
NEW LYNN DELEGATE: (shouting) Countdown was closed! Rats!! How many times do I have to say it!!!
KNOX: Alright. Calm down everyone. Don’t peak too early.
NEW LYNN DELEGATE: I’ll peak when I want. I’m the damn electorate chairman for Cunliffe.
PAPATOETOE DELEGATE: I’m sure you wouldn’t be this angry if you had a robust supply of gingernuts.
(sounds of wrestling and swearing heard on tape)
KNOX: Alright you two. Settle down. I’ve got a krispie in my pocket. Will that do?
PAPATOETOE DELEGATE: I had my mind set on gingernuts.
PORIRUA DELEGATE: Oh, for chrissake. I bet National don’t get this sort of grief from Sky City. In fact, I bet they all get envelopes full of cash all weekend at their conference.
KNOX: I wouldn’t know but this is Palmerston North so I reckon if you have any cash on you at the moment you better keep a close eye on it. Look, people, we’re off track. Who agrees with me that the current debates the Labour Party is having are some of the best debates we’ve ever had?
TIMARU DELEGATE: I agree.
PORIRUA DELEGATE: I disagree.
PAPATOETOE DELEGATE: My head says yes, but my heart says no so I’m going to have to agree and disagree.
NEW LYNN DELEGATE: Rats!!
ALL: I agree.
KNOX: So who’s agreeing and disagreeing, just for our records?
TIMARU DELEGATE: I agreed.
PORIRUA DELEGATE: And I disagreed.
PAPATOETOE DELEGATE: And I neither agreed nor disagreed because there wasn’t anything that I felt I could really agree or disagree with.
TIMARU DELEGATE: I agree that you couldn’t agree or disagree.
KNOX: Ok, so that’s two agrees and two disagrees. That is, if I count your “neither agree nor disagree” as one agree and one disagree.
PAPATOETOE DELEGATE: No. I disagree. If I neither agree nor disagree then I’m not agreeing OR disagreeing. You can’t just put me down for an agree or a disagree. I don’t agree with that. If anything, they cancel each other out. Agreed?
TIMARU DELEGATE: I disagree. You can’t just sit on the fence. You have to either agree or disagree. You can’t just say, “I neither agree nor disagree.” That’s totally disagreeable.
PORIRUA DELEGATE: I disagree. If any person wants to sit on the fence they are totally within their rights. This is a free country. You don’t have to agree or disagree with anything. If you want to “neither agree nor disagree” then that, in my humble opinion, is entirely agreeable….
Editors Note: the discussion covered most of the afternoon session and, following a short break for gingernuts, continued well into the night. We pick up the coverage as the discussion comes to a close at 12:53am.
KNOX: So it’s agreed then. No matter what the discussion, policy or proposed election platform, any delegate can choose to either agree or disagree or neither agree nor disagree. Agreed?
KNOX: I now call this meeting to a close.
Hello and greetings to you all. I am the Labour Party’s spokesperson on housing issues. There have been many housing issues recently and I wanted to talk about some of them.
Firstly, even though we have dropped the capital gains tax idea, we firmly believe that this might, or might not, reign in the rampant Auckland property market. Whether this policy makes it into law really does depend on whether the media keep giving us a hard time about it. Sometimes we think the media are unfair with their criticism, especially when they are criticising us.
Secondly, I was lucky enough to come into possession of some pretty startling figures on foreign-sounding people buying up New Zealand houses. We’ve done a bit if computer work and chucked some names on my list through the Commodore 64 at Labour HQ and I can tell you it makes pretty startling reading. Over 90% of Auckland home buyers have foreign-sounding names or names that are hard for me to say. There are but a small percentage with indigenous-sounding names like Iti or Paora or Henare.
Imagine having a foreign-sounding name AND being able to go out and buying a house.
This is startling.
What kind of world are we living in here? Some kind of tin-pot dictatorship?
This is startling.
I have hardly any houses so it concerns me that people are buying houses. What are the National government doing about it? Nothing. They are just making it easier for people with no houses to buy houses by going out there and showing people where there aren’t houses and telling them there should be houses there or something.
How can foreign-sounding people be allowed to own kiwi-sounding houses?
Mind you… people outside Auckland would probably like some capital gain on their house. Or jobs and stuff? Maybe we should let the market run? Perhaps I should spend time on that instead of trying to get votes back off Winston…?
It is safe to say before the election last month I was fairly prolific in the blogosphere as we headed to an election. Was it because there was a glimmer of hope for we on this side of the coin? I don’t know. I don’t have the money to poll thousands of people a week to check whether or not the lies I’m peddling are being believed because a compliant and unquestioning media is utterly compliant and totally unquestioning.
What we have now is three more years. Three more years of John Key and his band of brothers and sisters. Three more years of dirty politics. Oh… don’t worry… they’ve given up on the Blubber Oil style of doing things. You only have to listen to John Key during his ridiculous additions to parliamentary question time when he acts like all those dicks I hated at secondary school. When questioned about, say, breaches to the Official Information Act which are totally illegal, he might say something like, “well at least I don’t have stupid hair like the member opposite.”
Of course, our dear prime minister has never actually said those exact words – it’s the sentiment I’m talking about. Rather than argue the point and back up whatever action he is being questioned on with evidence supporting his point of view he just abuses the person questioning him.
You know when Key has nothing to support his argument, policy or party when he starts the schoolboy name-calling. That’s the National Party’s default. They just can’t help themselves. That is ultimately how Blubber Oil got to where he is today – by taking the National Party modus operandi to the ultimate extreme.
If you disagree with me I destroy you with lies, half-truths and inane bullshit. Because I’m a journalist.
The main reason I’ve been quiet for the last month or so is the utter desolation I feel towards the current situation. Do 50% or so of New Zealanders really believe that John Key is just the bees knees? Why? Probably because the other option is just a joke.
Labour was the joke option. Nobody believed anything they had to offer. And as Labour are the ‘leaders’ of their side of the house that means our side of the house is also the joke option.
All this means I am very unmotivated to crank out the opinions. I have writer’s block. I’m blocked by the fact that dirty politics is winning and progressive ideals are being rejected by the electorate in favour of a guy who “sounds like me” and gives a good selfie.
For me, at the present time, politics just makes me go, “meh.”