Secret diary of . . . a nice, hot cup of tea
As I head into my third term as prime minister the thing that gets me out of bed in the morning is the need to create a legacy. I want to be remembered for something.
I want to be thought of as someone who made a lasting contribution to New Zealand society.
That's why my government has taken away the legal right for workers to have a tea break.
At the end of the day it's nice to sit down and relax with a nice, hot cup of tea.
But the very worst time to do it is during work hours.
There are only so many hours in a day and it's best if we use every possible opportunity to maximise profits for employers, and I think the majority of New Zealanders would agree with that, especially the employers, and my friend Mike.
I was around at my friend John's last night and he said, "Would you like another glass of vino?"
And I said, "Mate, I would, and I'll tell you why. Wine is one of life's simple pleasures. And ain't that what life's all about? Simple pleasures. A glass of wine. A loving family. A narrow but confidently expressed set of fairly pathetic opinions in exchange for a sweet salary. Oops! Spilled some. Never mind. Good for the carpet."
Then he said, "It's 2am, and perhaps you've had enough. How about I make you a nice hot cup of tea?"
So I said, "Mate, that's a no-no, and I'll tell you why. This country is at serious risk of returning to the dark ages of unions and collective bargaining, and the only way to nip the communist menace in the bud is to come down hard on the tea break. Anyway, top up my glass, and I'll tell you my thoughts on Isis."
We must take our time as we infiltrate the New Zealanders and convert them to our sane agenda of beheadings.
We will work alongside them in factories and offices, and wait for the perfect opportunity to start spouting foul and odious bullshit.
We will wait until the tea break.
We will sit down with a nice hot cup of tea and begin to overthrow their primitive religious fanaticisms and in particular their belief in Lorde.
Taylor called, and said, "What doing?"
I said, "Feet up at home with a nice hot cup of tea."
She said, "Nothing better. What's that music in the background?"
I said, "Little sister's watching the Iggy Azalea video of Black Widow."'
I always say there's nothing as relaxing as a nice, hot cup of tea laced with Phenergan.
I could do with a bit of stress relief. It was very upsetting to be ordered by the courts this week to pay my son $55,000 as punishment for framing him by sending fake death threats to myself.
Oh, well. Other people have it worse off. It's not as though I'm disgraced All Black Aaron Cruden.
Kicking practice as the boys shape up to play England on Saturday. It didn't go very well. I kept thinking of how I missed two conversions against the USA in the weekend - and how Dan didn't have any trouble when he came on as substitute.
Steve Hansen took me aside. He said, "Go back to the hotel and relax."
I sat in the lobby and ordered a nice, hot cup of tea. The boys came in and laughed at me.
Sonny Bill jeered, "Haw, haw! Don't you trust yourself with a beer?"
It was humiliating.
Oh well. It's not as though I'm a complete wretch.
Very well, if the Green Party wishes to demote me as its natural health spokesman just because I signed a petition supporting homeopathy as a cure for Ebola, then so be it.
I'm more than happy to put my feet up with a nice, hot cup of tea and think of other ways to end suffering and create world peace.
You haven't heard the last of me!
Sunday Star Times