Cow talk reveals Nat leader’s softer side
Judith Collins’ first foray on the campaign trail yesterday in Wairarapa went pretty well, with almost no errors.
She was well turned out in a smart blue wool coat, fine jewellery and earrings that sparkled with quality.
She has been campaigning for years, since 2002, but not usually with the number of cameras and microphones that followed her yesterday.
“I’m not used to having an entourage,” she said in one of her stops “because I’m only quite new in the new job.”
It was a varied though not especially taxing schedule.
First was a visit to Hansell’s factory in Masterton, which has been in operation since 1934, then an inspection at the nearby Tranzit depot of a double decker that can run 120km after an eight-minute charge.
Next stop was at a dangerous intersection on the outskirts of Masterton to announce the most pressing local transport projects – even some that have already been promised by the Government, as local media pointed out.
And the last stop was in Carterton to address an audience of 200 organised by the Chamber of Commerce.
She has not yet worked out her narrative for the campaign – but she has been leader for only nine days.
But even in that half-day, it was clear what her favourite campaign tool is going to be – Phil Twyford.
It is always a winner.
To anyone who pointed out that some of the transport projects had already been announced, she pointed out that Twyford was Transport Minister and his promises in that portfolio were another case of KiwiBuild.
“There’s one thing you can count on with me – if I say it will happen, it will happen.”
One of Tranzit’s staff told her it would be great if she could get rid of a couple of people back in
Wellington – Twyford for example.
“I think he’s doing that himself,” she said.
It was a fairly low-energy performance by Collins at the large meeting. She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t thump her tub. She wasn’t even particularly party political.
She was cool, calm and calculating, that is until it came to cows. And then she got passionate.
In response to question from a farmer who clearly felt got-at, generally, Collins almost choked up talking about how important dairy farming is, how proud the country should be of its dairy farmers and their heritage, how dairying is in her DNA, how her parents were dairy farmers, and her parents’ parents, and how she feels when people don’t value them.
“It really genuinely upsets me,” she said, voice trembling slightly.
Collins first visit to the Hansell’s factory was a smaller affair.
It has 62 staff, more than 12 of whom have been there more than 20 years.
She addressed them in the cafeteria at morning tea after looking at the place where some of her favourite soup mixes are made and packaged.
The factory stayed open during lockdown, and she empathised with how good that must have been.
The economy needed to be kept going “because the economy means jobs and we want people to be in work, working well, getting decent pay, being able to buy your products that you are making every day and paying taxes to pay for me . . . and everyone else,” she added quickly, as soon as she realised her joke was a mistake.
There were no questions for her afterwards, other than from a Samoan employee seeking confirmation her husband was Samoan.
That was the cue to describe her relationship to the boxer Joseph Parker.
“Joseph’s father is my husband’s first cousin and he calls me ‘aunty’ and my husband ‘uncle’.”
She said she had got to know a bit about boxing now “and I know this – I am not getting in the ring”.
“You are in the ring,” someone quipped.
“Only on my terms,” she said