Steve Braunias’ Secret Diary of ... John Key

MONDAY

“Well,” said Bronagh. “Well,” I said. “You are sure about this, aren’t you?” “Just a few days ago I marked the anniversary of my eighth year as Prime Minister and my 10th as leader of the National Party. I have nothing left in the tank.” “You’re rehearsing your press conference.” “Maybe.” Max came in and lay down on the couch. “So,” he said. “So,” I said. I looked at my phone. “It is a hard job to leave,” I said. “But, for me and the National Party, this is a good time to go.” Max said, “Who writes this stuff?” “Steven,” I said. The DPS guys were outside the front door. We shook hands. “Okay,” they said. “Okay,” I said. I turned, and saw Bronagh and Max standing at the door. I smiled and waved.

Bronagh held up my phone. “You forgot something,” she said.

When she handed it over I suddenly reached out and held her close, and pulled Max in too.

I heard her say in a muffled voice, “You’d forget your head if it wasn’t screwed on.”

TUESDAY

I closed the door to my office, and unscrewed my head. It floated around the room and up to the ceiling.

“That’s not much of a weight off my shoulders,” I said.

WEDNESDAY

I opened the window of my ninth floor office and let my head float out. I wanted to look over the country I’ve served for the past eight years.

I created cycle trails, and I saw that it was good.

I looked upon the homes of the wealthy, and wished I could have done more for them. I wished I could do what they wanted me to do, and provided greater levels of tax shelter. I glanced at Pike River. I looked intently upon the flagpoles of the nation. What a wasted opportunity to show the world that we looked like a packet of Weet- Bix. I floated back to the office. Eight years had flashed before my eyes pretty quickly really but I think the majority of New Zealanders would agree that, at the end of the day, they were eight pretty good years and could have been worse.

I saved them from Cunliffe. I saved them from Peters.

And I did my best, this week, to save them from Judith.

THURSDAY

“Well done, mate,” I said to Bill. “Thanks, mate,” he said. We shook hands. “She’ll come after you again,” I said. “You know that, don’t you.” “Yeah,” he said. “Anyway.” “Yeah. Anyway. You off home tomorrow?” “Yeah,” I said. “See you next week, then.” “Maybe,” I said.

FRIDAY

I slept in. Then I slept in some more. I got up at midday and padded down to the kitchen. I opened the fridge, took out a beer and some cold cuts, and lay down on the couch. I took a nap. I woke up, then took another nap. Max came in. “That’s my couch,” he said. “Not any more it isn’t,” I said. He walked over to the fridge, and took out a couple of beers.

“Move over,” he said, and held out the bottle. “Deal,” I said. He sat down next to me and we sipped at our beers. I went to unscrew my head, but it wouldn’t come off. First time that’s happened in eight years. It felt kind of strange. “Quick! Hide,” said Max. “What? Why” “I can see Hosking walking up the drive.” We leapt behind the couch. “How did he look?” “Upset.” “Jesus.” The doorbell rang. “Don’t answer it,” Max said. I said, “Well, I don’t have to anymore, do I?”

He raised his beer. “Good to have you back,” he said.

“Good to be back,” I said, and took a long, cold drink.