The secret diary of . . . the prime minister elect
MONDAY
“Morning,” said Amanda. “Morning.”
“Have you had breakfast?” “Weet-Bix.”
“With blue-top milk, or almond?” “Blue-top.”
“You should have it with almond.”
“I will. What are you having?” “A banana and an ounce of cheese.” “Best be off,” I said. “Caucus awaits.” “But they were over yesterday. And do you know, they didn’t clean up after themselves. I had to take the cups back to the sink. Bishop’s the worst. You should have a word with him.” “I will. What’ve you got on today?” “I have to get ready for a workout.” “See you tonight.”
“Mwah. Have a nice day.”
“I will,” I said. “Bye, dear.”
TUESDAY
Met with Seymour. He wanted to talk about the Treaty referendum. I said I had already made myself clear that I ruled it out. He said Kiwis wanted a referendum on the Treaty. I said Kiwis saw it as a negative. He said that the No vote in Australia last week was a positive. I said that certainly I had concerns about co-governance as it moves from management of local natural resources into the delivery of public services, but that the bigger issue is the Government needs to make the case as to what they’re doing in the space and where we’re going. He said it was critical that New Zealand is able to discuss what the treaty means in 2023. I said it was critical we get the economy up and running. He said the Treaty referendum was a bottom line in any negotiations. I said that I wouldn’t rule it out.
WEDNESDAY
Met with 346 landlords who own at least 200 properties each, and are set to become tax-cut millionaires under National’s tax plan in government. They will benefit from an estimated total of $464m over the next five years. “What we really want is for property investors and landlords to stop being vilified, blamed and abused, and instead to be recognised as businesspeople who are providing a necessary and valuable service for society,” they said.
“Fair enough,” I said.
“We also really want the restoration of the power to serve 90-day no-reason eviction notices on tenants,” they said. “I’m your man,” I said.
“Yeah,” they said, “we know that.”
THURSDAY
Saw poor old Chris Hipkins walking down a corridor at Parliament with his head hung low. It was a sorry sight but he had it coming. Last week he thought he was tough with all that trash-talk about my MPs beating up people with bed-legs. It backfired. People don’t like that sort of attack politics. You must always stay true to your best self.
FRIDAY
Thought I’d better get in a supermarket shop before the long weekend. Bought a packet of Weet Bix, bananas, bread, butter, jam, eggs, cheese, and luncheon sausage — but my weekly budget of $60 meant that I had to get either blue-top milk or almond milk.
“How was your day?” Amanda asked when I got home.
“Oh, you know,” I said. “Yours?”
“I had a really good workout. Putting the groceries away?”
“Yep.”
“Oh good,” she said. “You got almond.”