Sunday, February 4, 2018

ELECTORAL INTEGRITY BILL

Can't resist reposting this from Boris Piscina over at Kiwiblog comments on Winston's Electoral Integrity Bill so called ... brilliant
 
Electoral Integrity Bill, Act One, Scene One.

Winston is sitting in his chair by the fire, with a whisky and a cigar. He is resplendent in his favourite purple silk dressing gown, and a pair of slippers made from the skin of everyone he has ever successfully sued.

A quill and parchment lie on the table before him. A list is written on the parchment.

We read over his shoulder:

1. Rid Party List of anyone likely to rock the boat in the face of unscrupulous behaviour.
2. Resurrect waka-jumping law to reinforce terror in remaining candidates.
3. Wait for Little Missy to pop out offspring.
4. Assume reins. Heh heh heh.


He sits back, takes a sip of his malt, and a long draw on the cigar. His eyes flicker.

There is a knock, and Ron Mark enters the room.

Peters: “Oh, hello Dierdre. I was just having a lovely dream about being King of the world.”

Mark: (looking a little puzzled) “Erm, Winston, I’m not Dierdre.”

Peters: (looks up sharply) “Well, who are you, and what are you doing in my bed chamber?”

Mark: “Um, this is your office, Winston, and I’m your deputy, remember?”

Peters: “Hmm. I thought you were taller than that.”

Mark: “So did I.”

Another knock, and Shane Jones enters.

Peters: (aside, to Mark, whispering) “Who’s that?”

Mark: (with a sly smile) “That’s, um, that’s Dierdre, Winston. Remember?”

Peters: “Hmm. Yes, of course I do. There’s nothing wrong with my faculties, you impudent young poor excuse for a journalist. Where’s my lawyer?”

Scene Two:

There is yet another knock at the door. Tracey Martin and Clayton Mitchell enter without waiting to be asked.

Martin: “Winston, we need to talk about the Greens.”

Peters (angry): “Don’t talk to me about the Greens. I’ll never put those imbeciles into Government. Never.”

Martin: “But you did, Winston. Remember?”

Peters: “Who are you?”

Martin (sighs): “Tracey, your once-and-soon-to-be-again Deputy. We’ve had this conversation.”

Mark (eyebrows raised): “That’s news to me.”

Jones: “Well it isn’t to anyone else. Have you spoken with the Gallery lately?”

Mark (fuming): “So you’re all in cahoots over this?”

Jones: “Egregious. Rangatira. Crayfish. That’s all I have to say on the matter.”

Peters: “That’s more like it. At least Dierdre is loyal to me.”

Martin: “Winston, that’s not Dierdre. It’s Shane Jones, your Fongaray candidate, and Minister of Several Important Things.”

Peters (snarling): “Don’t you second guess me, there’s nothing wrong with my faculties. Where’s my lawyer?”

Mitchell: “Winston, the thing is, we really have to discuss some issues with the Greens.”

Peters: “Prosser? What are you doing here? I sacked you three elections ago.”

Mitchell: “Winston, I’m Clayton Mitchell. I’m your whip. Remember?”

Peters: “Of course I remember! Somebody get me my lawyer. Where’s Denis? Now there’s a man you can rely on in a legal pinch.”

Mark: “Um, you sacked him as well, Winston. Remember?”

Peters: “Yes, I remember. Damned sodomite. Bad for the Party’s image. And mine. Not that they’re one and the same. Nobody make the mistake of insinuating that. I’ll sue.”

Jones: “Egregious.”

Peters (slaps the table): “Yes! Someone does get it! Dierdre, I want you to take over from me when I retire in 20 years. Mitchell Clayton here can be your Deputy.”

Mark exits, slamming the door behind him.

Scene Three….

Jon Johanssen enters the office without knocking.

Johanssen: “Mr Peters, we have just had an urgent message from the PM’s office. She’s going into labour.”

Peters: “Who are you?”

Martin (frustrated): “That’s Jon Johanssen, your Chief of Staff. Remember?”

Peters: “Really? I thought you were some sort of professor. What happened to that Broome fellow?”

Mitchell: “You, um, sacked him, Winston. Right after the coalition negotiations.”

Peters: “Shut up, Prosser. I didn’t fire you back in 2008 just to have you walk in here casting aspersions. Where’s my lawyer? For God’s sake, someone go and find O’Rourke. I’m surrounded by imbeciles.”

Martin: “It wasn’t 2008 Winston, it was…..oh never mind. This IS your Chief of Staff.”

Peters: “Alright. I understand all that. You don’t need to explain the basics to me, young man. I’ve been doing this for a very long time, you know. Now what about the PM’s office? I thought I was the PM?”

Johanssen: “Not quite yet, Mr Peters. That’s what we need to talk about. The PM is going into labour.”

Peters (genuinely perplexed): “What? But she’s already in Labour. She’s their bloody Leader, for goodness’ sake. Even I remember that.”

Johanssen (slightly flummoxed): “She’s in Labour, not in labour, Mr Peters. That’s what the message was about. She’s going into labour as we speak.”

Peters (agitated): “Well that’s what this whole waka integrity Bill is about! This can’t happen! Throw her out of the caucus!”

Martin (rolls eyes): “She’s not part of our caucus, Winston. She’s the Prime Minister, and Leader of the Labour caucus. She’s going into labour because she’s having a baby.”

Peters: “Well why weren’t we told?! This could have serious implications for the coalition negotiations!”

Johanssen: “We were told, Mr Peters. It’s part of the 38 pages of secret documents. The negotiations are complete, the Government has been formed, and you are the Deputy Prime Minister. Remember?”

Peters (seething, and through clenched teeth): “There were only 33 pages of secret documents. Alright? Anyone mentions the other five pages and I’ll sue. Understand??”

Johanssen: “Yes, Mr Peters. But the thing is that you’re going to be Acting Prime Minister for the next six weeks.”

Peters: “I won’t just be bloody acting, I can tell you that.”

Jones: “Egregious.”

Peters: “Precisely, Dierdre. By God but this rabble need some leadership.”

Martin: “Winston, this is important. You’re going to be the Head of Government. Mr Johanssen clearly needs some direction from you.”

Peters (aside to Mitchell): “Who is that fellow? I don’t know him, but I’m sure I don’t trust him.”

Mitchell: “That’s, um, Tracey Martin, Winston. She’s a woman.”

Peters: “Well that’s a rum thing, Prosser. When did we start letting them in here?”

Mitchell: “1893, Winston.”

Peters: “Hmm, so not too late to do something about it, then. Get me a report together, would you?”

Mitchell (backing slowly towards the door): “Um, yes, certainly, Boss.” (Exits stage left)

Jones lays his hand reassuringly on Peters’ shoulder.

Jones (sagely): “Egregious, Rangitira. Most egregious.”

Act Two ......


3 comments:

Lindsay Mitchell said...

Vert funny. And ever so easy to visualise.

Shelldrake said...

Sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction. And is this fiction?

gravedodger said...

Elf n safety Alert.
Many through out history baid dearly for taking the urine.
David Low, a N Z expat made it onto the list of troublesome UK figures for remedial action for his rather telling cartoons during WW 2.