David Hisco pokes head through door: “Pssstt…..hey dimwits……you’re working for ANZ. “National” bank was absorbed by us.
Sheesh…..and to think you all expect jobs like Key?
At least you idiots got the corporate colour scheme correct.”
The prefects meet to plan the next sausage sizzle.
“We’ve been given a ton of responsibility,” says Simon, “I hope we can live up to it.”
“We need a ton of sausages,” says Amy, “Especially if Paula’s on the BBQ…”
“I’m leaving.” says Paula in a huff. “This is a waste of time…”
“When will you be back?” Principal Duck asks.
“When I’ve been to the Tuck Shop.” Paula replies.
“Not a chance,” says Amy. “Gerry’s way ahead of you. Besides, that Jacinda and the poor kids are on their way here and they’ve got those rough Maori kids with them.”
“We’re screwed!” everyone moaned. “Where’s daddy?”
Like aspirants awaiting auditions for “New Zealand’s Got Talent”.
“Too late” they cry – the swamp has been drained.
Deserted by Key, English, Joyce, Coleman – all departed to enjoy the recognition and benefits of the corporate climate conferred.
Judith: “It won’t be long till I stick a knife right between your shoulder blades Simon.”
“The rat pack”, where the knives are ready to come out soon and blood will cover that floor.
national party members rewatching news item of the working poor families sleeping in thier cars.
David Hisco pokes head through door: “Pssstt…..hey dimwits……you’re working for ANZ. “National” bank was absorbed by us.
Sheesh…..and to think you all expect jobs like Key?
At least you idiots got the corporate colour scheme correct.”
The prefects meet to plan the next sausage sizzle.
“We’ve been given a ton of responsibility,” says Simon, “I hope we can live up to it.”
“We need a ton of sausages,” says Amy, “Especially if Paula’s on the BBQ…”
“I’m leaving.” says Paula in a huff. “This is a waste of time…”
“When will you be back?” Principal Duck asks.
“When I’ve been to the Tuck Shop.” Paula replies.
“Not a chance,” says Amy. “Gerry’s way ahead of you. Besides, that Jacinda and the poor kids are on their way here and they’ve got those rough Maori kids with them.”
“We’re screwed!” everyone moaned. “Where’s daddy?”
Like aspirants awaiting auditions for “New Zealand’s Got Talent”.
“Too late” they cry – the swamp has been drained.
Deserted by Key, English, Joyce, Coleman – all departed to enjoy the recognition and benefits of the corporate climate conferred.
Judith: “It won’t be long till I stick a knife right between your shoulder blades Simon.”
“The rat pack”, where the knives are ready to come out soon and blood will cover that floor.
national party members rewatching news item of the working poor families sleeping in thier cars.
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