Tag Archives: Bill English

Todd Barclay, Bill English and the OUTRAGE that is the Labour Party

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.

The superannuation timeline

Yesterday Bill English made the bold announcement to lift from 65 to 67 years of age. MyThinks thought it might be an idea to whip out a quick timeline because that’s what some media tend to do when they have a few column inches to fill next to a story that’s been going for a wee while.

2008: Freshly minted Prime Minister John Key announces that he will resign before lifting the retirement age.

Dec 5, 2016: John Key resigns as prime minister and anoints Bill English as his chosen one.

Dec 6, 2016: Bill English can’t believe his luck. After failing to crack 25% in an election during his previous time in charge of the National Party, he is now set to lead them, and the country, into the 2017 general election.

Mar 6, 2017: English appears on the television current affairs show The Nation to announce National were “looking at” superannuation. When asked whether this meant there would be a lift in the retirement age, English said simply, “you’ll have to wait and see.”

Mar 6, 2017: English appears on the Newshub at 6 to announce National were “looking at” superannuation. When asked whether this meant there would be a lift in the retirement age, English said simply, “you’ll have to wait and see.”

7.23am Mar 7, 2017: English appears on the Radio New Zealand show Morning Report to announce National were “looking at” superannuation. When asked whether this meant there would be a lift in the retirement age, English said simply, “you’ll have to wait and see.”

7.35am, Mar 6, 2017: English appears on TVNZ Breakfast to announce National were “looking at” superannuation. When asked whether this meant there would be a lift in the retirement age, English said simply, “you’ll have to wait and see.”

7.48am, Mar 6, 2017: English appears on Newshub’s AM Show to announce National were “looking at” superannuation. When asked whether this meant there would be a lift in the retirement age, English said simply, “you’ll have to wait and see.”

12.32pm, Mar 6, 2017: English holds a press conference which he begins with the words, “Guess what… waiting’s over. We’re lifting the superannuation eligibility age to 67 in the year 2040 – fourteen years after I start receiving it. Thank you and good afternoon.”

12.33pm, Mar 6, 2017: Bill English walks from the stage to attend the eating of his lunch.

CORRECTION: The office of Bill English was kind enough to point out once he is retired, the Prime Minister will not be receiving New Zealand superannuation on its own, but in conjunction with his generously subsidised parliamentary superannuation scheme along with almost free travel for life. 

The Phone Call (actual)

What follows is a short extract from the diary of Prime Minister Bill English detailing his Waitangi Day activities. 

Dear diary… today dawned like any other with the sun appearing over the horizon like a giant ball of burning hydrogen. I rose from my bed and donned my dressing gown and headed for breakfast. Two Weet-Bix and a cup of tea later I was ready for some serious prime-ministering. Several breakfasts and a yum cha later I was ready for a well earned rest. I retired to my luxurious and very free crown limousine and told Harold to drive. So we drove. 17.43 minutes* around and around until the phone rang. I answerved it and guess who it was? None other than President Trump – the President. He said hello and I also said hello. He called the Australian PM something I can’t repeat here** and then said something about The Hobbit and Sir Bob Charles before going on about how awesome he was and how stupid the fake media were for not reporting the facts he was telling them to report. He then mentioned how much he hated Alec Baldwin before saying that I should drop by the White House next time I’m nearby so we can throw darts at his CNN dartboard. Then he said goodbye and hung up. 

Following this call I am certain we will have first preference on a bilateral trade deal should the chance arise. ***

Had Trump stopped talking about himself during the conversation I’m sure I would have said his immigration law changes weren’t very nice.

Anyway, thank you for listening diary. 

Kind regards, 

Bill English  (Prime Minister of New Zealand)

NOTES FOR MEMOIR:

* that’s .43 of a minute which is 25.8 seconds, not 43 seconds, in case you were wondering. 

** President Trump said, “Trumble is a bit of a dick.”

*** I am not convinced there will be any trade deal without us putting Sir Bob Charles up as some kind of collateral. 

The Phone Call

TRANSCRIPT: Phone call between President Donald J. Trump of the United States of America and Prime Minister Bill English of Southland.

Hello. It’s me.I was wondering if after all these years you’d like to meet.

BILL: Hello… Bill speaking

THE DONALD: Hey buddy. It’s The Donald here. How the hell are you?

BILL: Who?

THE DONALD: The Donald.

BILL: Sorry, who? Who is the Donald?

THE DONALD: Me. I am The Donald.

BILL: Yes. I know. But who is the Donald. Who are you?

THE DONALD (slightly agitated): Oh for chrissakes! I am The Donald. I am The goddam Donald?

BILL (long pause): Um… OK… and what is it that you do Mr.The Donald?

THE DONALD (quickly getting more agitated): I’m the goddam president!!

BILL: The president of what?

THE DONALD (seething with blind fury): The goddam President of the United States of America. You goddam idiot!!

BILL: Oh… that The Donald…

THE DONALD (utterly enraged): Yes I’m that The Donald. How many other Donalds are there?!!?!?

BILL: Duck?

THE DONALD (apoplectic): What?!!!???!?

BILL: Donald Duck… that’s another Donald.

THE DONALD (psychoticly apoplectic): I don’t have to speak to you! I’m the king of the free world and your just a snivelling little shit from the boon docks. Shove it up your ass!!!
*slams phone down*

BILL (smiling): Snivelling indeed you orange racist.

ENDS

Could I have the Bill, please? 

The party was over. The turmoil of the last week was beginning to subside and things were slowly returning to some kind of normalcy. Everyone, for example, had stopped laughing at Jonathan Coleman’s leadership bid.

Back in the Beehive after a long weekend watching other people spend money, Prime Minister-elect Bill English was very pleased himself. He was now precisely where he wanted to be – sitting in an office chair with his hands sitting gently on a desk. This was a great day.

Suddenly, and without warning, there was a sensual knock on the door. The jangle of rings and other jewellery could only mean one thing – the wrist controlling the hand knocking on the door to his inner sanctum was a wrist from West Auckland.

Bill turned on his desk fan. He had seen the wind blow the hair of a man in a film once and he had gotten the girl. His power now gave him options. This time it would be he who would get the girl.

As he thought a few moments longer about where this day might be heading, he remembered the chap in the film had sported shoulder length hair. His hair was the classic Gore short back and sides. There was no folicle waterfall careering behind him. He was just sitting at his desk with water streaming from his eyes. 

The fan was turned off.

“Enter!” is what he wanted to say in a way that had him sounding like a classically trained Shakespearian actor. Instead he said, “Yes?” in a barely audible rural drawl. She entered anyway.

“Shit Bill,” said Paula, “we did it. We actually did it.”

“Yes,” he replied, not meaning to be frugal with his sexual wordplay, but being so nonetheless.

“You here at the big desk with the big job in your highly capable big hands while I take on the job of your number 2…”

“Yes,” he said again, even more erotically than the first time

“Now,” replied his deputy glorious in her 9th floor radiance, “I’ve got a lot of work to do so I’ll head. Well done boss.”

“Yes,” Bill replied for a third time. The atmosphere in the office had moved from lightly to highly charged. He knew it. He suspected she knew it. He decided not to ask her about it just in case she hadn’t noticed him manning around.

As Ms. Bennett walked out the door, her Impulse body spray lingered for just a little bit longer. He moved over to his stereo and, taking one more deep breath of the perfume, popped in his Luther Van dross CD. 

This was heaven and he was in it.