Satire loses its best subject
To most of New Zealand, John Key was a Prime Minister, one they either loved, loathed, or felt indifferent about. For me, he was and remains a totally different thing altogether. For those who don’t know me, which I would hope is most of you, I’m the chief writer of The Civilian, New Zealand’s leading satirical news publication. I’ve been writing it for more than three years.
During that time, I’ve written hundreds of articles either about or featuring John Key.
The Civilian is by no means a political publication, but even the stories that weren’t about Key or even about politics, often ended up featuring a quote or two from him.
It wasn’t just because I’d spent years perfecting my written impression of him, or because he provided an endless wealth of Keyisms. It’s because, to me, he was something of a central character in an alternate world I was building.
For every major public figure in the New Zealand, I always tried to develop a character around that person; a parody persona that touched ever-so-slightly on a real truth about them.
Former Labour leader David Shearer was this nice, hapless guy who had accidentally stumbled his way into the Labour leadership, was too trusting, and had no idea what to do with it. David Cunliffe was a narcissist who had no concept of how obvious it was. All Blacks coach Steve Hansen is just morbidly depressed. Peter Williams is this loveable old guy with an inner child who does weird things on TV sometimes.
But for all these great characters, they always felt like supporting actors and actresses, all of them gyrating around the centre of the universe that was our Prime Minister.
John Key was always the protagonist of The Civilian. Whether you liked him or not, he was – and is – the central figure not only in New Zealand politics, but in New Zealand as a whole.
As Prime Minister, he was larger than life – something I would never have foreseen when he was opposition leader – and in his attitudes, mannerisms and accent, he embodied our nation.
If you were to open a box labelled ‘‘New Zealand Prime Minister’’, you have to feel John Key is roughly what you’d expect to pull out.
He was a uniquely perfect politician to satirise and poke fun at, because in satirising him, I always felt I was satirising the whole country.
He was the perfect protagonist for the ongoing story that is The Civilian, and he always will be, long after he’s gone. No one will ever quite replace John Key, and in resigning, he’s leaving an enormous hole in both my work, and in my heart.
This is not an expression of support for John Key. This is about the love of a character who has essentially been my entire life for the last three years, an imaginary friend who was always there for me, and was an endless source of material when nothing else would provide it.
John Key doesn’t know me at all, and given how often he’s been the butt of my jokes, that’s probably a good thing, but he’s been a huge part of my life, and damn it, I’m going to miss him.