The 2020 General Election

NB: no current or former politicians were harmed during the writing of this satirical article.

As General Election nights went the mandate of 2020 had been accompanied by the usual levels of insanity and odd occurrences; perpetrated by people who would otherwise have been going about their day to day activities in a much more sedate and mundane manner.

A buck naked Real Estate agent, with no reported political affiliations, had jumped from the middle of the Auckland Harbour bridge, suffering two broken legs in the process, all the while yelling “I’m your leader! Follow me!”

Further south, an elderly woman from Fairlie had held up a Pie Cart and made off with its entire takings of 37 dollars and 75 cents. The police had apprehended her a short while later at the local Sports bar when she had caused a scene after losing all of her ill-gotten gains in the town’s only Pokie machine.

None of these events, however, were noticed or spoken of in the Mount Albert Electorate where the current prime minister and her staunch band of Labour party stalwarts were eagerly waiting for the results to come in.

The night had begun fast and furious; quickly descending into a scene which would have made even a Junior Labour party camper blush with uncomfortable embarrassment.

The overwhelming feeling from the excited attendees was that their crowd would romp home, even ridding itself once and for all of the millstone around its neck that was New Zealand First: finally giving the green light to put into action the most audacious number of working groups ever witnessed by the people of New Zealand.

As the hours ticked by, and the Chardonnays ran dry, the mood had steadily devolved into one bordering on depraved orgiastic nihilism.

At one point in the evening, a life-sized effigy of Judith Collins had been wheeled out and set upon by the enraged and drunken mob.

Ms Collins had become a favourite target in recent weeks, after having rolled Simon Bridges for the National party leadership amongst a political environment of Machiavellian perfection.

The first signs of trouble had been felt when the seemingly safe seat of Dunedin South had returned a damning verdict upon the disgraced figure of Clare Curran: guilty on all counts according to the locals.

The whispers of unease had only heightened when it had become apparent that the Green party were struggling on only 3.8 per cent of the Party vote. Certainly no amount of disloyal student loan dodgers from overseas would be able to prevent these ersatz communists from being consigned to the dustbin of political oblivion.

As the horrific realisation sank in amongst the roughly 300 people in attendance, a steadily increasing river of angry and dejected Labour Party members began to stream out into the streets and suburbs of Central Auckland.

A very drunk Phil Goff was arrested after being caught urinating in someone’s backyard.

When apprehended by the attending Police officers he vigorously insisted that as mayor he held the right to relieve himself anywhere he wanted and had then become so violent that pepper spray was needed to fully subdue him.

The owner of the property, one Helen Clark, had stormed out of her back door decrying in full voice about all the noise and had insisted that the fracas be terminated at once.

As the sun slowly dawned over the collection of drunken detritus which littered the now quiet and leafy suburbs, the ousted prime minister pondered an uncertain future.

Clarke had been of little help and instead of offering the support so desperately needed, had decided to avoid the tense atmosphere altogether by making a swift retreat to the local hairdressing salon with the excuse of needing a ‘quick tidy up’.

Ms Ardern was left with no options but to consider her future in the cold light of defeat.

Her initial thoughts had been of finding new employment as a policy analyst, an occupation she had much experience and skills in.

These inquiries had been curtailed, however, after the nation had heard the new prime ministers intentions of halving the number of ministers of parliament and slashing the tax levels within the private sectors of the New Zealand economy with a view towards increasing job growth and alleviating poverty.

“We already have enough laws thank you very much” Ms Collins stated in a confident and commanding manner, leaving little doubt in the minds of the people.

The new government’s intention to revitalise the economy did end up working in the former prime minister’s favour in an unlikely way, after a brief visit she had made down to the local corner dairy to buy some almond milk.

Passing by the window of the nearest Fish and Chip shop she was to suddenly notice a ‘Help Wanted’ sign hanging in the window.

With a renewed sense of optimistic ambition she opened the front door, all the while thinking:

“I can do this.”

 

 


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