Why must I keep telling people who ask them, that no-one cares about those questions?

It would be nice if we could report for this whole Tea Party imbroglio that John Key is following US trends. Especially now that he has taken to storming out of press conferences Palin-style when he is asked inappropriate questions after he has already demonstrated with geometrical logic that no Real New Zealander is interested in the answers.

Sadly, however, the Tea meetings are a façade that recurs every electoral cycle. To qualify as a Major Party, the Nationals need to nominate a candidate in every electorate. In the case of the Epsom electorate, this is one of those shite jobs for which the candidate is (hopefully) rewarded with a cushy job later, for he or she must campaign just hard enough to maintain National's profile but not enough to win... the party actually wants their ACT competitor to win the seat, due to recondite reasons involving the intricacies of coalition formation, the MMR voting system, the offside rule and the Explaining Voice. What would happen to a candidate who did enter Parliament by winning Epsom doesn't bear thinking about.

Anyway, the tradition has evolved that the National party leader should meet with ACT's candidate in a coffee bar for a symbolic anointment of the Chosen One, having notified journalists to all turn up and consume the cafe's entire stock of latte supplies and be stenographers for the traditional expressions of (nudge nudge wink wink) mutual respect. Then when the photo-op is over it's time to shoo them out while the adults continue their tête-à-tête. This year the ACT candidate is John Banks, whose personal philosophy of fascism rigidly authoritarian social conservatism does not sit well with ACT's ostensible philosophy of state-minding-its-own-business, but it's a charade anyway so whogivesafuck.*

Tea-thing troubles

Sadly, this year there were teething troubles: someone didn't get the memo that a public event in a public place becomes a private conversation when Keys says so, and the entire convo was recorded. Key insists that (a) he can't remember anything he said to Banks and (b) none of it was incriminating, but he has called on the police to track down and destroy all copies of the tape anyway, insisting on his right to privacy whenever he is not invoking his right to publicity. The police have search warrants for at least four media outlets, including the state-owned Radio New Zealand, despite the latter's assurances that they don't have a copy. This will occupy all that idle time weighing on the hands of the police and keep them from getting into trouble on the street.

The convo may or may not have involved Banksie's boss Don Brash, and whether he will stay as leader of ACT having stabbed so many backs to get there, or whether his commitment to New Zealand voters is such that he will troll off in search of a better job if they don't live up to his expectations by giving him enough votes to be a Big Man in parliament.

In the alternative universe where I would really prefer to live, this unfolding saga is having an effect on people deciding how to vote. In this universe, however, everyone already made up their mind months or years ago how they're going to vote, and in their minds it's as if they've already voted, so they respond to any evidence that might force them to rethink that decision by sticking their fingers in their ears and going Nyah Nyah Can't hear you.

* For added hilarity, Banksie is entering the twilight stage of his career, and his basic personality emerges as the dementia erodes his filters, i.e. stark old-school racist arsehole... hence the recent blurtings that the wrong electoral choice could result in drug-&-pornography-crazed darkies coming through our windows.