You never really know what goes on in the lives of your neighbours. Their children may seem paragons of impish perfection, their lawns manicured to bowling green smoothness, their his and her Audi Coupes and SUVs sit polished and gleaming in their easy-access driveway.
Across the ditch this week, Julia Gillard met her Waterloo. Her Wellington came in the sanctimonious form of a vainglorious retread, (un)kindly referred to as KRudd by many commentators. I was baffled.
Only Tony Abbott emits a creepier vibe. So now, our ‘lucky’ next-door neighbours can chose between one of two unappealing white men, desert-dust-dry, as their new PM. What a choice! Still, it’s their big, messy bed to make and so they must now lie in it.
Some of our neighbours overseas look enviously at our own beloved leader: how lucky we must be to have such a savvy, skilled hand at the helm.
But as we all know, once we are home alone, the Joan Crawford in John Key is unleashed and the wire coat hangers are pulled out once more from the wardrobe and most of us are quietly beaten.
Maybe Julia Gillard was a ‘bitch’ or a ‘witch’ as some have labelled her. Maybe she was in way over her head and posed a threat to OZ’s future prosperity.
Maybe. Maybe the grass always grows greener (or bluer or redder) on the other side. But this I know. I would trade Julia Gillard for John Key in an eye blink.
For National, that big blue Nancy is fast-becoming a no-friend, a no-friend, a no-friend. End of story. Minus the Maori Party, ACT and United Future, the Natsi dance card is looking less full by the day.
In spite of the NZ Herald and TV3’s concerted attempts to transmogrify Labour’s victory into 50 Shades of Defeat, the facts rather describe a teetering house of-blue-cards, a death-knell to the Maori Party for its ill-conceived romance with with the Right and the awful truth that Key and Co must now dive under the political duvet with even stranger bedfellows to retain power.
Devoid of ideas, solutions and vision, we can look forward to an increasing avalanche of Natsi spin contaminating our mailboxes and emails. But every cuddly animal or cute child we see caught in a Prime Ministerial clench is not proof of genuine concern and widespread popular support . Rather, this obvious, clunky, and risible propaganda reveals the Natsi’s true talent for winning lies in spinning and spinning alone. But what goes around, comes around . Until it stops. And on that fast-approaching day, National will be unspun, undone and dead in the water.
Towards which, a senior National MP, speaking to me on the grounds of anonymity, says that John Key has just two months to cobble together a credible coalition, come up with a single original idea that doesn’t involve the wholesale theft of opposition policy and devise election-winning strategies that provide jobs outside of the financial services industries, casinos, mineral exploitation and the sale of state assets that no one wants to buy.
Tweeting anonymously from Harvard , the senior National MP said Key’s ‘any-way-the-wind-blows’ style was not going down well with the party faithful, who were more and more searching for a leader capable of crushing the opposition in 2014. She also said David Bain was guilty as sin and would not be seeing one red cent of compensation “so long as her arse points down.” An unholy image to end on to be sure!
Readers are advised that resemblance to any politicians careers, alive or dead, are purely intentional, if satirical.
I can hear John Key launch into his “Jonkey Dearest” tirade: “”Oy tuld you! Noy wairangas, ivahh!”
Very droll.
Would lol again.
Just started reading your blog. Thumbs up Simon! We are not alone eh? Who’s that knocking at the d
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