Another "One"

Brendan BurnsYou are a former media man who ran Helen’s media unit, where your searing intellect and sharp wit was sadly misinterpreted by the sots in the press gallery who gave you the slightly unbecoming nickname “Lord Burns”.

Being neither one of the gaggle nor a self serving unionist you took two for the team, running in the very blue seat of Kaikoura with no hope of winning a list place, despite being the award winning editor of the local rag and your chateaux being right in the heart of the electorate.

Chardonnay may have been grown in plentiful supplies, but the socialist part did not follow, with the good burghers of Marlborough rejecting your immense intellectual advantage to favour a man whose only real claim to fame was he was a world class shearer. As if shearers know how to change the world. They are known to be all smelly and wear bad clothes and drink and cuss and not really be worthy of your scintillating conversation and are probably proud to be Lumpenproletaria.

With the blessing of Helen you were transplanted from your country seat to the Socialist Republic of Christchurch, where you managed to win a rigged selection to become the carpet bagging MP for Christchurch Central.  You subsequently added the name of your country seat to your title, becoming widely recognised as Lord Burns of Marlborough.

Your narrow win in a very safe seat mean’t you eroded a massive majority to 935 when the proles again failed to recognise the important impact your intellect would make on the world if they would only trouble themselves to think about it.

On recent polling your seat is nominally a National seat as it requires less than a 3% swing for you to be sent back to the Chateaux to brood over how the lumpen can be taken out of the Lumpenproletaria. The current additional 15% in favour of National is more than five times the necessary swing for you to lose your seat, and if that happens you require Labour to win 32% of the vote to ensure parliament does not become a lesser place due to losing your intellect.

So you talk to your good Lady wife, who has become quite accustomed your new found importance and her new found clothing allowance, and wonder if you should preserve your career by say “Phil my dear old thing, perhaps you should pass the baton on to another chap for the good of the party, and of course New Zealand.”

You become another “one”.

 


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