Barclay scandal timely test of English’s mettle

At last, thanks to rookie Todd Barclay, we are due to find out if Prime Minister Bill English inherited John Key’s Teflon coating as well as his job.

Key rode out many scandals by his MPs, ministers and even himself with nary a scratch. It defied the laws of political physics.

This week English had his very own to contend with. It put to the test two matters critical for a leader: strength and trust.

Key’s stock lines consisted of announcing he was “pretty relaxed” about whatever scenario was bedevilling him and, when things got really tense, announcing “the public doesn’t care”.

Infuriatingly, he was usually right. But such matters have a cumulative effect.

To English’s credit he has not resorted to such glib responses, although it’s a fair bet he is hoping like hell that the latter applies. That may be true to a certain extent. Key rode through the ponytail revelations only because by the time the news broke, he had already built up a reservoir of trust.

Such behaviour did not tally with what most people knew of Key, so many gave him the benefit of the doubt when he tendered the explanation that he was just mucking around. English too has built up a store of trust through his years as finance minister — but the saga of Barclay and his Gore staff will test whether it was made of titanium like Key’s.

Dealing with the final act of that this week was a test of strength.

When Key moved to dump former MP Aaron Gilmore it was not for being rude to a waiter — it was because Key believed Gilmore had lied to him about it.

While it is apparently all right to lie to the public, it is not okay to lie to the Prime Minister.

English’s problem was Barclay had not lied to him — in fact, if English’s police statement is an accurate version of events, Barclay confessed to him that he had recorded his office staff.

Despite that, in March, English even used a Helen Clark line, saying it was “time for everyone to move on”.

Attempts to cover up a mess often result in a bigger mess later on.

So three months later and it is Barclay who is moving on.

According to English, Barclay came to this conclusion all on his own — although it’s a fair bet English’s chief of staff Wayne Eagleson was the Jiminy Cricket on his shoulder.

The human side of English may well

Many were gobsmacked this week when it was revealed English was complicit in Barclay’s public comments by staying silent.

recall when he too was the new MP for Southland at a similar tender age, thrust into the political realm and the duties of being a boss.

He referred to it being a hard decision for Barclay to make, but the right one.

Presumably the prospect of Barclay damaging his chances at winning the election helped the medicine go down.

The main priority was confining the damage to Barclay. English is not off scot-free himself. In 2014, English held himself aloft from the slurry of Dirty Politics — and in fact even condemned the cynical behaviour it catalogued. He takes pride in his own integrity.

So many were gobsmacked this week when it was revealed English was complicit in Barclay’s public comments by staying silent, denying any direct personal involvement, and believing the matter tidily dealt to by way of a settlement.

English has claimed innocence, saying he spoke to the Police about it.

But there is more than a taint of a cover up about it when it comes to the public — and that may chip at English’s own trust stores.

Key would advise English that most voters only see the broad brush strokes — not every detail.

What they initially saw was a PM putting up with a 26-year-old whipper snapper’s folly — not the nuances of who knew what, when and why.

A National Party voting acquaintance in the Bay of Plenty texted after watching the news about Barclay on the news on Tuesday night: “Bill has lost his balls!”

By yesterday afternoon, Bill had found them again — although he dispatched Barclay with as much humanity as he could.

But the last line of English’s text to his former electorate chair Stuart Davie is even more apt now: “Everyone unhappy.”

There was one happy person — and not simply for reasons of schadenfreude.

That was Labour MP Stuart Nash. Arriving at Parliament on the day the news broke, Nash was interrogated by a young reporter on stakeout.

The reporter had mistaken the 51-yearold Nash for the 26-year-old Barclay.