“I thought I was meeting with Key when they said I’d be meeting someone brash”
brash1
braʃ/Submit
adjective
self-assertive in a rude, noisy, or overbearing way.
“he was brash, cocky, and arrogant”
The two dementia suffering cunning oldies don’t even remember when and where this hush-hush meeting took place or what they quietly discussed.
“Winston, as you know I’m really big on this “Iwi vs Kiwi” racially divisive stuff. I mean, wow, it’s a real hit with the rednecks out there. But you see, this is where our relationship gets a bit awkward ‘cos……….I didn’t actually realise until my advisor here told me you were………errrr………you know………..Maori”.
Crime scene cordonned off…
I have no idea what this meeting might have been about, but I would hate to be the guy who walks up to a meeting with a savvy sartorialist like Winston wearing beige chinos and black shoes.
“Winston I am the emissary from the National big wigs with a top secret message for you”
“Ok, shoot”
“They are making an offer you can not refuse easily”
“Ok, I am all ears”
“Here is the deal. If you promise to join the National government coalition after the next election, they will offer you the Prime Minister post at least for one term. What say you?”
” Um, that is interesting. Very interesting indeed!”
“So is that an Yes or No?”
“You know Don, I can’t possibly comment until after the election. It has ALWAYS been my public stance all along, as you know. Just let them know it is an interesting offer. We will leave it at that for now”
“Ok, Ok, I get it. Cool. cool. Let us drink our warm Darjeeling cuppa now and shake hands on it”
“Ok, in memory of Key of Wall street and Hawaii, USA, let us include the Tax Payer’s chap here too and do a vigorous three-some happy handshake”
All three laugh. Ha, ha ha!
“Is he your guy or my guy, this 3rd person sitting at the table”?
“Or is he secretly recording and we haven’t noticed him”?
“Yes Don – your cell will have a basin so you can wash your undies. Please don’t keep asking”
“Yes Don – I would like to know just how corrupt John Key is”
“Winston – please look! Is that Bradley Ambrose?”
“So Don – it’s all about trusts. What can you tell me?”
“Winston, my friend, you are getting somewhat stale in your old age. I am offering myself to NZ First, I will be a fresh leader, I will leave Maori in peace and concentrate on the Asian invasion, I will increase the party’s showing in the polls by 15%. Just go quietly.”
“My hands are getting rather rough pruning kiwi fruit. They need to be smooth so I can successfully pursue my natural instincts with all those clamouring female power junkies.”
Enter the age of the wine box inquiry which heralded in the Machiavellian Confederate to supplant, in the hearts and minds of a swindled NZ, a belief that there was an inquiry when really there wasn’t an inquiry meanwhile billions of Kiwi dollars has disappeared.
And now we have Panama.
A con man and his minion sit down to tea while you and me go without.
If I’d seen those two sitting together I have mashed their picnic up with one of those pretty little chairs while shouting ” In the name of my mother and father you mother/father fuckers ! ” Something like that. Something catchy.
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“I thought I was meeting with Key when they said I’d be meeting someone brash”
brash1
braʃ/Submit
adjective
self-assertive in a rude, noisy, or overbearing way.
“he was brash, cocky, and arrogant”
The two dementia suffering cunning oldies don’t even remember when and where this hush-hush meeting took place or what they quietly discussed.
“Winston, as you know I’m really big on this “Iwi vs Kiwi” racially divisive stuff. I mean, wow, it’s a real hit with the rednecks out there. But you see, this is where our relationship gets a bit awkward ‘cos……….I didn’t actually realise until my advisor here told me you were………errrr………you know………..Maori”.
Crime scene cordonned off…
I have no idea what this meeting might have been about, but I would hate to be the guy who walks up to a meeting with a savvy sartorialist like Winston wearing beige chinos and black shoes.
“Winston I am the emissary from the National big wigs with a top secret message for you”
“Ok, shoot”
“They are making an offer you can not refuse easily”
“Ok, I am all ears”
“Here is the deal. If you promise to join the National government coalition after the next election, they will offer you the Prime Minister post at least for one term. What say you?”
” Um, that is interesting. Very interesting indeed!”
“So is that an Yes or No?”
“You know Don, I can’t possibly comment until after the election. It has ALWAYS been my public stance all along, as you know. Just let them know it is an interesting offer. We will leave it at that for now”
“Ok, Ok, I get it. Cool. cool. Let us drink our warm Darjeeling cuppa now and shake hands on it”
“Ok, in memory of Key of Wall street and Hawaii, USA, let us include the Tax Payer’s chap here too and do a vigorous three-some happy handshake”
All three laugh. Ha, ha ha!
“Is he your guy or my guy, this 3rd person sitting at the table”?
“Or is he secretly recording and we haven’t noticed him”?
“Yes Don – your cell will have a basin so you can wash your undies. Please don’t keep asking”
“Yes Don – I would like to know just how corrupt John Key is”
“Winston – please look! Is that Bradley Ambrose?”
“So Don – it’s all about trusts. What can you tell me?”
“Winston, my friend, you are getting somewhat stale in your old age. I am offering myself to NZ First, I will be a fresh leader, I will leave Maori in peace and concentrate on the Asian invasion, I will increase the party’s showing in the polls by 15%. Just go quietly.”
“My hands are getting rather rough pruning kiwi fruit. They need to be smooth so I can successfully pursue my natural instincts with all those clamouring female power junkies.”
Enter the age of the wine box inquiry which heralded in the Machiavellian Confederate to supplant, in the hearts and minds of a swindled NZ, a belief that there was an inquiry when really there wasn’t an inquiry meanwhile billions of Kiwi dollars has disappeared.
And now we have Panama.
A con man and his minion sit down to tea while you and me go without.
If I’d seen those two sitting together I have mashed their picnic up with one of those pretty little chairs while shouting ” In the name of my mother and father you mother/father fuckers ! ” Something like that. Something catchy.
Why do I have tears in my eyes ??
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