Its rolling cadences interrupted by the here-I-come-here-I-go Doppler effect of the occasional passing car.
Laurie watched as Les, taking exaggerated care not to spill a drop from the tall glasses of pale ale he was carrying, steadily closed the distance between the bar and their corner-table by the window.
"That’s welcome rain", observed Laurie, nodding in the direction of the passing skiff.
"I was beginning to think we were in for a drought. Perhaps its nature’s way of celebrating the end of the government’s first 100 days in office. Blue skies and sunshine just don’t seem appropriate. Or, are you still happy with their work?"
"I am, as a matter of fact. It hardly strikes me as fair to criticise a government for doing exactly what it said it was going to do. For actually keeping its promises."
Les winced in recognition of his friend’s point. "You got me there, mate."
"I reckon I have at that. It’s been so long since any incoming government put on such a show of political fidelity. That’s why so many of these young journalists have been so shocked by the roll-back — they’ve never seen one before. Well, not on this scale, at any rate."
"You’re right. I was trying to think of the last time that an incoming government made such a fetish of dismantling practically every major reform its predecessors had put in place. When would you say it was?"
"That’s easy. You and I are about the same age, so we share quite a few of the same memories. It was Muldoon’s National government of 1975. Unsurprisingly, he was even more hard-core than Luxon."
"More hard core than Seymour. Do you remember how he just told employers to stop deducting workers’ contributions to the New Zealand Superannuation scheme? The law was still in place, Muldoon hadn’t had time to repeal it, but he just told them to stop — and they did."
"Didn’t someone take him to court? Some civil servant, citing the Bill of Rights of 1688?"
"Nothing wrong with your memory, Laurie! That’s exactly what happened. And, if I remember rightly, his name was Fitzgerald, and he won his case. The Supreme Court ruled that Muldoon couldn’t simply cancel the laws of the land — even if he was the prime minister. Only Parliament can do that."
"Something of an own goal, though."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, all these twerps complaining about this government forcing things through the House under urgency. If that’s the way the Bill of Rights of 1688 says it has to be done, and you’ve promised New Zealanders you’re going to make all these changes in your first 100 days, then of course you’re going to legislate in haste. After all, the people doing the complaining would be making an even bigger fuss if the coalition had failed to achieve what it promised to achieve in its first three months."
"Fair enough, Laurie. But, even so, you can’t be in favour of their decision to repeal the smoking legislation. I mean that went against all the best advice from all the experts in the field. Big Tobacco’s laughing all the way to the cancer clinic!"
"Speaking personally, Les, you’re right — I wouldn’t have repealed the Act. That said, I’m getting heartily sick of hearing people objecting to government policy on the grounds that it goes against expert advice. Who the hell governs this country, eh? Experts? Or the people who elect representatives to govern on their behalf?"
"But ... "
"No! Don’t you tell me that the people are too thick to make those sort of decisions. Because, if you believe that, then why bother to have a Parliament at all? Why not just hand over the responsibility for governing us ‘deplorables’ to the experts? You know, all those over-educated idiots in the universities and the public service. Jeez, Les, that’s the whole reason the Labour Party was thrown out on its ear — because it no longer trusts ordinary people."
Les stared mutely into his ale. The thunder sounded a lot closer now.
■ Chris Trotter is an Auckland writer and commentator.
