It’s not often I blog un-satirically these days (actually… I hardly blog at all). Life and work and work and life and sleep seem to be in the way. Yet I lie here at 11.30 in the evening still rage-filled and unable to nod off following today’s events.
Metiria has resigned. The torrent of self-righteous abuse has been too much of a burden to place upon her family and she has gone. Resigned this afternoon.
There will be much talk of this tomorrow and, perhaps, over the coming weeks. As the punditocracy sink their yellowing teeth into this political mea culpa, undoubtedly we will hear about the many mistakes Metiria made.
When it comes down to it, Metiria’s biggest mistake was thinking the rest of the world shared her compassion. That by outing her experiences within the welfare debt trap she would elicit empathy for her situation a quarter of a century ago and the discussion of her plight would lead to a broader discourse on the dysfunctional welfare state.
Unfortunately that isn’t how Tories work. Metiria didn’t count on the how devastatingly ruthless Tories around the world are. The last thing a Tory is going to do when it sees a cute dog rolling over and showing its soft underbelly is lean down for a quick scratch. No. They’ll whip out the knife and disembowel that puppy quicker than you can say, “compassion is for suckers” before spreading the poor puppy’s innards around the press gallery.
The right saw their opening and took it. I can guarantee you there is not an ounce of guilt on their shoulders tonight.
We can safely assume the Ferrari driving radio hosts and other white middle-aged male voices who berated Metiria with the loudest howls of indignation will all be arranging their affairs courtesy of sound financial and legal advice and thus reducing their tax burden. But that’s technically legal and Metiria stole hundreds of dollars so let’s rip her to shreds.
The rotting vampire corpse Dirty Politics is alive and well and continues to suck us all dry.
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.
Today the Green Party are releasing their education policy. Metiria Turei says their policy will be focussed on the kids – in contrast to National’s policy which focussed on buying out the principles of the principals.
I expect National to hammer the Greens with a “how much is this going to cost you tin-foil hat wearing fruit loops” strategy. Because they have nothing.