The phone calls started after the press release. "It's an affair," said one.
"It's the buildings in Wellington that we can't get back into and my bloody car is still in one of the car parks. How come Japan can build earthquake-proof buildings and we have forgotten how to in the last 10 years? None of the old buildings are a problem. Bloody neo-liberal self-regulating building industry," said another.
Another phone call; "He must be over it. He's a family man. Eight years is a bloody long time in politics." (What does "family man" even mean? A son of a mother? A father of a son?) Then the cafe conversation: "I think he's fallen in love with a man - and it's just not OK to be gay in the National Party."
And I realised - it must be so draining to be the Prime Minister, no wonder he's wading out of the parliamentary gloop. Did Helen feel this way too? What is it with the Anglo obsession with who everyone is sleeping with? Latins just shrug and go, "And what?" when their leaders have affairs. Not that I'm saying he's had an affair - I'm just pointing out that the scrutiny would get tiresome.
So I get it - he must look around at his own swamp with Judith sitting quietly under the waterline, all ruthless amphibian ambition, and be desperate to flush himself out of there.