At first I didn’t recognise my visitor but as he stuck out one hand and massaged my shoulder with the other I wondered if he was an old mate I owed money to. Then, I twigged. ``Hang on. Haven’t I seen your picture in the paper? You’re with that oddball political party that’s doing OK in the polls.’’ ``That’s me, Jim, and we want you with us. We’ll put you near the top of our list and you’ll walk in. Just imagine it. A salary of $181,200. That’s more than ten times that miserly pension you’re getting and as an MP there’s big money available to cover any travel expenses. There’s $80 for dinner out with your spouse or partner. I bet you never spend anything like that when you take the little lady to your favourite restaurant. There’s money to pay for running your office and you can even claim up to $4500 to install a security system in your house even though I can’t see anything here worth pinching.’’ ``Yeah, but I avoid politics and politicians. I’m a pretty sensitive soul. I just wouldn’t fit in in a House full of free range egos. So why choose me?’’ ``Elections are all about recognition and the name of the game is the name. If voters see a name they know that’s a sure vote. Naturally, we wanted a name or two from the south, so we tried Glenn Turner and Ben Smith but no go, so we’re desperate and I thought of you. I remember seeing you on television ‒ in black and white, of course ‒ and weren’t you on the wireless for about a million years? What’s more, you’re in the ODT every week. The votes mount up, you know.’’ ``Surely, just a name isn’t enough to attract the voters?’’ ``Course it is. That’s why cunning old Winston has roped in Taine Randell and Michael Laws. It works, you know, especially with media types. I heard some bird who does the weather is being staked out by National. Act New Zealand have latched on to Paul Henry, a high-profile motor mouth from television, and David Seymour describes him as ‘bringing wit, intelligence, and a powerful voice to the Act team. He is sharp, fearless, and an exceptional communicator.’ Did you hear Henry on radio last week deciding which party leader he would shoot, shag or marry? Winston Peters drew the short straw and the story was all over the place with Henry’s name everywhere. Talk about witty. That’s just the sort of thing we know you’ll be great at.’’ ``Really? Well, the name thing might work in a small country, so I guess you’re on to something.’’ ``Small? They all do it. Let’s face it, the president of Ukraine was a comedian on television and we all know that Ronald Reagan was a C-list actor in cowboy films and Trump made his name on some dog tucker game show.’’ ``I’m not too sure about all this. An old radio mate of mine who was a great performer stood for National in the Lyttelton seat in 1972 and got thrashed by Labour.’’ ``Not relevant, Jim. You’ll be on the list. No need to do electorate stuff so you’re excused from kissing babies and shaking hands with people you couldn’t care less about. In fact, you need do nothing, which I’m told is pretty much your style, anyway.’’ ``That’s tempting, but I’d need to know something about what your party stands for. Have you got a policy statement I can look at?’’ ``Policy? Oh, don’t worry about all that rubbish. We haven’t actually written an election manifesto yet so in the meantime just talk about ‘Giving Kiwi families a fair go’ and ‘making Aotearoa a better place for our children and their children’s children’ or ‘Taking us all to a greener upland’ is also a good gag, especially with tree huggers.’’ ``The big problem is having to spend time in Wellington. It’s a place I was sent to four times and then spent most of my time trying to get out of.’’ ``No worries. It’s only a few days each week for part of the year and you could easily get some sort of deal which lets you miss most of it. We’ve got a doctor who will sign a chit and, going by your appearance, physical strain or psychological problems should work it. Of course, once you’ve signed up for the list you’ll have to stop writing columns for newspapers. But that would be a relief for us all, I’m sure.’’ That got me thinking and I decided to get rid of my strange visitor. ``I’ll turn down your offer. The thought of spending time with politicians horrifies me and writing columns is really a pleasant pastime. I’ll stick with it.’’ Dunedin writer and broadcaster Jim Sullivan writes the Nothing Too Serious column for the ODT.
