Political conferences were once a must-attend for media.
Labour had a history of self-destruction and in-fighting which made a soap opera look tame.
And National had an ability to attract protesters in numbers that genuinely threatened the safety of delegates.
One such conference in Dunedin, when the late Sir Robert Muldoon was prime minister, left delegates shaken and concerned as they were jostled and harangued on their way into the city's town hall.
More recently veteran protester Sue Bradford, before she was an MP, led a march from the Octagon to the steps of the Dunedin Town Hall, in Moray Pl, to vent her displeasure at former finance minister Ruth Richardson's handling of the economy.
By the time Ms Bradford reached the steps, the last marchers were still to leave the Octagon: such was the passion of the protesters. Arrests were inevitable at such conferences, and seen as a badge of honour.
And during one conference in the now earthquake-damaged Christchurch Town Hall, demonstrators surrounded the building and banged on the glass windows/walls with such strength that delegates were drowned out in the main auditorium unless they shouted into the public address system.
Roll forward to 2012 and the National Party conference, at which a minuscule bunch of professional protesters turned up in Auckland to demonstrate against the Government's plan to partially sell-down four state-owned assets and further reduce its stake in Air New Zealand.
Reports of numbers ranged from 60 to 80 protesters.
It was hardly a sign that there is overwhelming opposition to the sell-down. Protests aside, National went to the election with the partial sale a major part of its election campaign.
Labour and the Greens used their opposition to the sell-down as major policy planks in their campaigns.
More than one million New Zealanders voted for National, allowing Prime Minister John Key to form a government and claim a mandate for the sale.
But it is not just political protests that have lost steam.
National Party conferences are a shadow of what they once were.
They are show pieces of glitter and glamour.
They are stage managed to provide an air of contentment.
No dissent is allowed.
There may be members who oppose asset sales, but they would have a short career as a party official if they expressed their opposition.
Looking at the current line-up of MPs, from Mr Key down, it is hard to identify any who have come through the elected party hierarchy to public office.
There was a time when paying your dues through the party was essential to becoming an MP.
Young Nats were a legitimate force to be reckoned with.
They provided people power in campaigns for the face-to-face work on a campaign trail.
Foreign Affairs Minister Murray McCully was a fearless leader of Young Nationals.
So too was Michele Boag, the woman who creates a division of feelings whenever she turns up at a conference. Party legal adviser Peter Kiely was another Young Nat to stand out from the crowd.
Now, becoming a candidate seems to be a matter of who you know. Mr Key came back from overseas and decided to be a politician.
Gardening guru Maggie Barry similarly decided it would be nice to be an MP and now represents the genteel electorate of North Shore.
Steven Joyce is being touted as the next leader should Mr Key retire (but he will be unlikely to engage with voters with personal problems at an electorate clinic because he will always be a list MP).
There were some signs of getting back to grass roots at the recent conference, but not enough. And a connection with "real" people is important.
After all, National is burning off its coalition partners, despite claiming to understand MMP.
In fact, some would say the party is in danger of losing touch with the very people who voted it into power.
