The secret diary of...Judith Collins

Last updated 05:00 11/05/2014
Judith Collins
JUDITH COLLINS: 'It takes a strong woman to roll up her sleeves, put on a pinny, and then pick up the plates and smash them against the wall if she so feels.'

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OPINION: Yes, well, and another thing, I wish someone would ask me about the personal secrets of the press gallery. I mean if it's good enough for them to go snooping through my entirely blameless life then I think it's only fair if I bring to light the fact that I know one girl who almost never does the dishes.

She's a socialist and probably thinks everyone should chip in. Well, we all know the manifest evils of socialism, and chief among them is that the dishes never get done.

It takes a strong woman to roll up her sleeves, put on a pinny, and then pick up the plates and smash them against the wall if she so feels. I feel like doing that right now. I am doing that right now. Just you try and stop me.

"Don't you try and stop me," I said to Paula Bennett.

"Come along now, Judith," she said.

"It's alright, Judith," said Anne Tolley.

The two of them pinned my arms to my side.

"Step away from the dishes, Judith," said Bennett.

"And what if I don't?", I frothed.

"You were minister of police, weren't you, Judith," said Tolley.

"Damn good one, too," I drooled.

"Then," she said, "you'll know what this is."

I made a run for it but she was too fast. I fell to the floor in agony.


To Parliament for question time. First I had to run through the press gallery gauntlet. I looked at them not with fear but contempt. Contempt for their slovenly journalism. Contempt for their slovenly kitchens. I know one girl who almost never does the dishes. She's a socialist and . . . and . . .

I seem to have lost my train of thought.

Where was I?

Oh yes. On a farm. My parents were dairy farmers. I had a wonderful childhood milking cows. Lovely, fresh milk, all ready to export to China!

"Keep walking, Judith," said Anne Tolley.

"It's all right, Judith," said Paula Bennett.

They were at my side, guiding me through the press gallery gauntlet. I wanted to turn and lunge at that pathetic bunch, hit them where it hurts.

"It's all right, Judith," said Paula Bennett.

"Keep walking, Judith," said Anne Tolley.

I felt the Taser pressing into my back. I didn't want a repeat of yesterday so I did as I was told.


The latest Metro magazine has a stupid profile of me written by some stupid person who has also written a stupid follow-up story about me in the magazine's website.

Fortunately, my old friend Rachel Glucina called last night, and we worked together on a sympathetic press release that the New Zealand Herald published this morning.

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The prime minister gently recommended that I take a few days' leave and stay indoors at all times and step away from the Twitter.

"We're delivering the Budget next week," he said, "and I'd quite like to do it in peace."

I asked him when he'd like me to come back to work.

"Take your time," he said.

I asked when I'd see him next.

"There's a Cabinet Club fundraiser coming up, so I expect I'll see you there," he said.

I asked if our Chinese friends would be there.

"They usually are," he said.

I started to ask him if he remembered the good old days, when we entered Parliament together back in 2002, both of us bright-eyed and full of purpose, how we'd have breakfast once a month at the Ministry of Works cafe around the corner from Parliament on Molesworth St, I'd order scrambled eggs and he'd order . . .

"Gotta run," he said.


Home, sweet home. It rained. I stood at the sink and looked out the window at the grey sky and the grey harbour.

It was very quiet.

Too quiet.

To the happy sound of dishes smashing against the floor and the walls, I plotted my return, my revenge.

Steve Braunias is a Metro staff writer.

- Sunday Star Times

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