Secret diaries of ... Ponytail-gate

So very very sorry: John Key.

Martyn Bradbury:
Rejoice, comrades, for I have glad tidings that may reverse the fortunes of mankind which has so long been downtrod by the jackboot of the evil right.

Gather around. Come closer. Years of expert and deeply considered analysis of the political situation in New Zealand has led me to this moment where I can exclusively reveal the Prime Minister did have relations with that ponytail.

I call upon the left to rise up as one and seize the opportunity to vanquish our enemies but let it be known that this shocking news is not politically motivated.

It is simply stating the facts of the Prime Minister's reign of terror which may be compared to Pol Pot or the Yorkshire Ripper.

John Key: At the end of the day it was only a bit of horseplay.

I really think people should lighten up! You should see what I get up to around the house. I just crack Max up and Bronagh never stops laughing.

In fact I remember she laughed the first time I was at Rosie cafe and gave the waitress's ponytail a gentle tug.

"Oh, John!", Bronagh said.

The next time we were there, I pulled a bit harder on her ponytail, and Bronagh chuckled, and said, "Oh, John!"

The third time, I pulled even harder, and Bronagh giggled, and said, "Oh, John!"

The fourth time wasn't much different. I don't have any clear memory of the fifth or sixth time, I began to perfect creeping up on her unawares on the seventh, eighth, ninth and 10th times, and I easily recall the 11th time because I wore camouflage gear, blackened my face, crept up on her using ninja techniques, and grabbed her ponytail with both hands. Then I pulled her towards me, took a deep breath, and sniffed the back of her head. I closed my eyes. She smelled of oranges and sunshine.

"Oh, John!", Bronagh said, and laughed hysterically until the security guys took her away.

Martyn Bradbury:

Hear ye! Hear ye! Can ye hear me down the back? Good.

Gather around. Come closer. For let it be known that the story of the Prime Minister's crimes against women has now gone global, and the forces of the evil right are trembling at the advance of the glorious left.

Nicky Hager tried and failed to stir the people when he published his book Dirty Politics. But now the people have woken from their slumber, and the left is on the march.

Gather around. Come closer still. O children, my children! Let us join hands and sing as we gambol through the streets and rejoice that our hour has come around at last.

There is a movement. It's evident in the Save Campbell Live rallies, where I feature as guest speaker. It's evident in the number of Facebook likes on my blog, which are in the several thousands.

O New Zealand! Follow me. Follow the ponytail, a beacon of light in these dark times.

Who's with me?

John Key: As I stand at Gallipoli to commemorate our fallen dead my thoughts turn to ponytails.

Goddamn it to hell.

I'm sorry. I'm very sorry. It was inappropriate. I've learned my lesson. What more can I say?

But at the end of the day I think she owes me an apology, too.

I don't think it's very good manners that she accepted my peace offering of two bottles of JK's 2012 PM's pinot noir — but had no intention of drinking them.

She wrote in her blog that she doesn't like red wine.

Well, give them back then. I'll happily give her two bottles of white instead. We could meet. We could sit down and raise our glasses and move on.

But she'll have to move fast when she leaves! Ha, ha!