“Public servants are a waste of money,” I said. “Oh, yes, I quite agree,” said Luxon. “You just can’t get rid of them fast enough.
” “Mmm.” “Think of the savings!” “I think about that all the time,” he said. A news alert chimed on my phone.
“The new Ministry of Regulation, overseen by Act’s David Seymour, is paying its staff an average salary of more than $154,500, well above the public service median of $84,800, and will eventually employ more than 90 people, new figures reveal.” I cursed. Luxon asked, “Is something wrong?” “If I thought something was wrong, do you think I’d tell you about it? Who do you think you are?” “I’m the Prime Minister,” he said.
“You missed a spot,” I said. “So much of politics is a waste of time,” I said. “I didn’t come up in the first shower,” Peters said.
“Some losers are forever introducing extreme and divisive bills that they know will go precisely nowhere, but will gain them maximum publicity and shore up their voter base among some of the worst people in New Zealand.” “Helen Clark, she was all right,” he said. “Ardern you just couldn’t trust.
” A news alert chimed on my phone. “Under the coalition agreements, both National and NZ First are committed to supporting the introduction of Act’s Treaty Principles Bill, but both parties have ruled out supporting it beyond that.” I cursed.
Peters tapped his finger on the side of his glass. The barman filled it up without a word. Busy day canvassing a balanced set of views from Act’s Nicole McKee, a former gun lobbyist and now the associate justice minister with responsibility over firearms legislation, and current gun lobbyists.
I phoned the senior communications person on $170,000 a year at the Ministry of Regulation, and said, “So did you find who was behind the leaked information of how much you and your colleagues are earning?” “I’m getting a massage and luxury spa right now,” she said. “Can this wait?” “Okay.” She phoned just as I was leaving the office, and said, “The Greens.
” I cursed. “The Greens! Waste of space,” I said. “Standing up to me is a waste of time,” I said.
“But it makes me look strong,” said Luxon. “I suppose,” I said, and felt a wave of pity for him. He looked so vulnerable at my feet with his brush and his rags and his polish.
.
