No nerves ahead of Trump call: PM
AUCKLAND: Prime Minister Bill English says he does not have firstdate nerves before his first phone call with US President Donald Trump, despite the bruising experience of Australian Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull.
Speaking at Waitangi yesterday, Mr English said he was looking forward to speaking to Mr Trump despite Mr Turnbull’s experience.
‘‘Well yes I am, actually. We are yet to see just when that will happen, but there is no reason to believe that won’t be a civil and maybe direct conversation.’’
Mr Trump reportedly ended his call with Mr Turnbull early, describing it as the ‘‘worst call’’ he had had, and had shouted about Mr Turnbull’s insistence he abide by a US agreement to take refugees from Australia’s centres in Nauru and on Manus Island.
Mr English said he was not nervous about his own call.
‘‘We’d expect to maintain the very good relationship we have with the US. Talking to the president has always been part of that. There is a long history of differences of view between the US and New Zealand, going back to Vietnam, so I don’t see why that should make much difference to the phone call.’’
He would raise concerns with Mr Trump, including over ‘‘recent issues’’. That is likely to include the recent restrictions on travel to the US for citizens of seven predominantly Muslim countries as well as the US withdrawal from the TPP.
And while New Zealand and Australia often describe each other as ‘‘family’’, Mr English was steering well clear of taking sides by going into bat for Mr Turnbull over the spat with Mr Trump. Asked if Mr Turnbull was treated badly, Mr English said he would leave that to Mr Turnbull to answer.
‘‘I’m not going to comment on discussions between two other leaders of countries.’’ — NZME
MONDAY
I’ve refused to change my style since I was appointed interim Prime Minister.
I shoot from the hip and tell it like it is.
As an example, many people believe that breakfast is the most important meal of the day.
I can see the merits in that argument.
However, where does that leave lunch and dinner? Are we to disregard them as somehow less important?
Let’s crunch the numbers. Breakfast is certainly the first meal of the day.
I don’t think there’s any dispute about that, but it mustn’t provide the foundation for making wild, offthecuff remarks that we might have cause to regret.
What I am prepared to say is that I think of breakfast as one of the most important meals of the day.
TUESDAY
As interim Prime Minister, I’m about to experience the joy of moving into the sumptuous surrounds of Premier House.
My predecessor lived there, as was his right. There were times when I visited him on official business at Premier House, and I’d cast envious glances around at the grand old Victorian pile, and think to myself, ‘‘One day, this’ll be all yours.’’
That day has arrived. Now it’s my right. The movers came today and took away everything from my house in Karori, and headed for my new address in Thorndon.
I might throw caution to the winds and go along with the belief that breakfast is the most important meal of the day when I sit down to eat it in considerable style tomorrow morning at Premier House!
WEDNESDAY
An obscure parliamentary rule has prevented me from moving to Premier House.
I walked to the corner dairy this morning for cornflakes and milk, and brought it back to my empty house, and sat on the kitchen floor.
The cupboards were bare, so I put small handfuls of cornflakes in my mouth and washed it down with swigs of milk.
THURSDAY
The movers still have everything in storage so I experimented by pouring the milk into the packet of cornflakes, and drinking from it like a glass.
It works better if it’s a plastic packet inasmuch as the milk doesn’t leak like it does through the cardboard packet, but on the other hand it’s easier to drink from the straight edge of a cardboard packet, whereas the milk tends to dribble down my chin when I drink it from a plastic packet.
FRIDAY
Mary asked if the movers were bringing back everything from storage any day soon, and I said it was too early to tell, that these things take time, and it wouldn’t achieve anything by making unreasonable demands.
‘‘But you’re the Prime Minister,’’ she said,
‘‘The interim Prime Minister,’’ I pointed out.
‘‘Even so,’’ she said. ‘‘You’re the boss. You’re in charge. You’re actually a world leader.’’
‘‘I suppose.’’
‘‘You’re on the world stage.’’
‘‘I guess so.’’
‘‘You rub shoulders with other world leaders on the world stage.’’
I said, ‘‘I do, don’t I? You’re right. I’m getting on the phone now to those movers! I’ll give them a rocket! They need to know who they’re dealing with!’’
One of my advisers phoned. His voice was a bit shaky. ‘‘I’ve got Trump on hold,’’ he said. ‘‘He wants to talk to you.’’
I looked at the plastic and cardboard packets of cornflakes, and wondered which would be easy to crawl into and hide.