The Secret Diary of . . . David Cunliffe

19:42, Nov 23 2012
David Cunliffe
David Cunliffe


Took a long, hard look at myself in the mirror this morning, and really liked what I saw.

Flashed a winning smile. It was boyish, but also adult. It was sincere, but also ruthless. In summary, it had everything.

Threw my head back and roared with laughter. Nodded my head enthusiastically and burst into applause. Spun my head right around and vomited up buckets of green sick.

Might save that last one for special occasions.

Oh, hang on! I already did it all weekend at the Labour Party conference.


It really impressed MPs such as Louisa Wall and Charles Chauvel. It was as though they fell under my spell. "We'll follow you to hell and back," they chanted.

"Well," I said, "I can take you halfway."


Shearer called around this morning. "You left this behind at the weekend," he said, and pulled out a knife from his back.

"It's not appropriate for me to comment," I said.

He said, "I'm calling a caucus meeting this afternoon to decide what to do with you and your weird little leadership challenges."

"They're not weird," I said, and licked the knife.

As soon as he left I called up my minions but couldn't get through to any of them.

Had a feeling things weren't going to go well when I walked into the caucus meeting and MPs took turns at punching me in the face.

Tried to sit down but fell off the chair. Had a feeling some part of my anatomy was missing.

"Here," said Shearer, and handed me something in his closed fist. It was my ass.


Stayed home all day and weighed up my options.

Keep the beard?

Or shave the beard?


Waited till it was night and drove to my electorate office in New Lynn. Parked around the back, and crept next door to the neighbouring business: a headstone mason.

Picked the lock and shone my torch around their displays.

Chose a good, flat slab, and carried it into my office. Sat at my desk while my eyes got used to the dark, and then set to work with a chisel and hammer.

It was hard, slow work, and I was still shaping the "S" when I heard a tap at the door.

"It's us, master," someone hissed.

I went to turn on the light switch.


It was a pleasure to work alongside so many fine minds last night.

"Ow," said Sua.

"Ouch," said Louisa.

"Oops," said Rajen.

"Uh-oh," said Raymond.

"Oof," said Charles.

"Doh," said Nanaia.

But eventually we changed the lightbulb, and spent all night inscribing Shearer's headstone. We'll hand it to him at the leadership vote in February.

"Yeah!", they chanted.

"Hurrah!", they chanted.

"Do that thing again when you spin your head around!", they chanted.

The trouble was that once I started, I couldn't stop. I do hope it's not a bad look.