The secret diary of...Colin Craig
There's nothing more I like to do on God's green earth than walk on it, but that statement needs clarifying. Of course I believe in God and indeed I talk to Jesus all the time. He's a great listener. However that doesn't make me a "churchie". That's not the message I want to send. I want to send a different, more secular image, and I'm going to go outside for a walk and send that message in the post.
But to return to what I was saying earlier about God's green earth, I don't want anyone to think that I'm some sort of "greenie". To me a greenie is someone who prefers a vegetable to the kind of progress you can hold in your hand, like share prices. And a greenie is also someone who believes in global warming. My view is that global warming doesn't exist, and I'm going to prove it by going outside for a bit of fresh air - the same fresh air I've been breathing all my life.
But first I just need to go back and address this whole issue of walking. I'm not a "walkie". I don't even know what that is or if it means anything, but as the leader of the Conservative Party who has a real chance of getting into Parliament next year, I need to avoid being tarred with any kind of brush that might make people see me as a bit of a raving nutcase. All things considered I think it's best if I just go for a drive.
There's nothing more I like to do in the great city of Auckland than drive on it, especially in the newly created electorate of Upper Harbour. I drove around this afternoon and liked what I saw. I liked the look of the tidy front yards. I liked the look of the respectable homes. Most of all I liked the look of the people. A great many of them were white.
I decided to test the weather and talk to passersby, so I pulled over, got out of the car, and walked towards the mall when suddenly someone came up behind me and tackled me to the ground.
I twisted my head around. It was Paula Bennett.
She said, "This electorate ain't big enough for the both of us." I said, "Well, I'll be very sorry to see you go." I didn't like the look that came over her face and then everything went black.
Sometimes it's good for a man to take a break from everything and just put his feet up and lie perfectly still in a neckbrace at a private hospital.
The party's chief executive, Christine Rankin, came to visit. She said, "Listen, we're going to need credible candidates for the next election." I said, "Well, there's me, and there's you."
She said, "What about him?" She pointed at one of the patients. His head was heavily bandaged, and he was frothing at the mouth.
I said, "He's got potential."
I was discharged after lunch. I won't hear a word against private hospital food, but I'm anxious that people don't think I'm a "foodie".
There's nothing more I like to do in the great city of Auckland than drive on it, especially in the safe National Party electorate of East Coast Bays.
It's got tidy front yards, respectable homes, and white people. It's also got a number of bright, cheerful cafes where I could meet in private with John Key in front of the nation's media.
He'll say, "I'm giving you this electorate. What'll you give me?" I'll say, "My support for you to form a National-led Centre-Right government."
He'll say, "We're on the same page."
And then I'll say, "Do you think Winston will be back this time?"
And he'll laugh and say, "Not a show. A lot of his constituents have died . . ."
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