Campaign launch

Returning today from a fifteen day silent retreat in Kumeu, I was alarmed to discover that the Prime Minister has set a date for the election, November 8. This is pretty soon!

Now, the disbelievers among you, of which there are many, have been saying that the Lawrence Party are too late out of the blocks, still wearing short trousers and knee high to a grasshopper. Well where I come from they breed some bloody big grasshoppers. When I was a young working class lad on the Canterbury Plains, we used to have to go out into the fields, convulsing with fear and disgust, and sprinkle Derris Dust onto the foul wingéd beasts.

I still harbour a great deal of respect and affection for the humble cocky, backbone of the nation, but it was on that day, as dozens of enormous grasshoppers crawled over my clammy flesh while I lay sobbing among the lucerne that I vowed never to set foot outside of the four main centres.

It is a vow that I will keep until tomorrow, when we launch our campaign in Tauranga, one of the vile, grasshopper infested rural backwaters that I’ve spent my entire life trying to avoid.

The reason for this location is pure expediency and opportunism. With Winston probably banged up in solitary confinement at Paremoremo by then, with only his various cabinet portfolios to keep him company, the Lawrence Party sees a clear opportunity to fill a vacuum.

One of this party’s great strengths is its command of symbolism; the metaphorical, the metaphysical, the visual; the empty gesture if you will. Tomorrow, we intend to hit the venerable citizens of Tauranga with a historically pointless display. Descending from a blimp tethered to Mount Maunganui, we’re going to greet the citizens of Tauranga on the beach much in the manner of Governor Grey, hoping not to be made to sing songs from the 1930s, or stabbed. We will then invite the delightfully quaint Taurangans to ascend a rope ladder or wheelchair lift up into the blimp, where they will be shown a fifteen minute PowerPoint presentation on our vision for the future, which they will be fucking impressed with.

We will then ask the elderly Tauranga-ites to leave the blimp, first politely, then forcefully. Any remaining as we begin our long journey back to Auckland will be fed to the sharks.

I’m looking forward to tomorrow!