Steve Braunias’ Secret Diary of ... The Opposition

BILL ENGLISH

Well, today I unveiled a strong Opposition team which will hold the Government to account and ensure it doesn’t fritter away the great gains made under National.

And what a team they are. There’s certainly a lot of them! It was standingroom only when we gathered together in my office so I could make a rousing speech.

“Can’t hear you,” someone shouted down the back.

“Can’t see you,” someone else shouted.

I raised my voice, and stood up behind my desk. “How’s this?”, I said.

“No, still can’t hear you.” “Or see you.”

I pulled the chair out, and stepped on to it. I had to be careful because it’s one of those swivel chairs, and I didn’t want it to spin away, so I leaned forward and held on to the edge of my desk for balance.

But as I performed the difficult manoeuvre, and was about to bring up my other leg and step on to the top of the desk, I felt a sharp, painful twinge, and sat down again.

“My back,” I wheezed. “Can’t hear you.”

“Can’t see you...”

PAULA BENNETT

Well, land’s sakes! Lordy. Bless my soul, ain’t it a crying shame to be taken down a peg or two?

I do declare it’s something I never thought a body would ever experience. No, sir. There I was, sitting pretty in the big old mansion on the hill for nine long, happy years, punishing the poor and now look at me!

I’m just like those poor folks. I done gone from hero to zero. I called up Big Daddy. He always cheers me up.

“Aw, shucks, Big Momma,” he said, “you can come join me around the boardroom table at this here ANZ Bank any time you like. It’s money for jam. Just the way you like it.”

“I sure do appreciate that, John,” I said.

“No problem,” he said. “Say. How’s ole Bill?”

“The same,” I said.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.”

JIAN YANG

I was opening my mail this morning and found an invitation to a reunion of my old class at the People’s Liberation Army Air Force Engineering Academy.

It brought back so many wonderful memories of when I studied there before going to lecture at the Foreign Languages Institute elite spy school.

“You look happy,” said

Bill English.

“Oh,” I said. “I didn’t see you there.”

“I was just walking past your office when I saw you holding up your letter, and smiling from ear to ear,” he said. “Good news, is it?” “Yes,” I said. “It’s an invitation to a reunion of my old class at Luoyang University.”

BILL ENGLISH

It’s not our job to make this place run.

We have no obligation to smooth Labour’s path.

None whatsoever. Zero. Nada. Nothing! I’m not going to lift a finger! I don’t have to if I don’t want to, and no one can make me, so “Now, dear,” Mary called out, “what did I tell you about working yourself up into a rage?” “My back,” I wheezed, and lay down again.