Trevor Mallard's something of a contradiction. He's one of the mushiest guys you'd be likely to come across, he's loyal to a fault, particularly if you're part of the Labour tribe.
Speaker Mallard's changed the face of Parliament. He allows mothers to breast feed in the debating chamber, he embraces children around the place, even recently taking the hand of his six-year-old niece on the daily, awfully formal procession, led by the bearer of the Mace, from his office to the debating chamber.
This animal loving, third most important person in the country's pecking order even allows dogs into Parliament. So protocol in a personal sense is something that he tends to work around.
That's the soft side.
The other side of this man is as hard as nails, once telling rugby bosses to shove a bottle of the beer sponsor's product where the sun don't shine, having a knuckle up with the other political scrapper Tau Henare in the debating chamber's lobby after inviting him outside, and then a few years back remonstrating with his predecessor Lockwood Smith as he was being thrown out for the very same behaviour he's now facing.