It was at the point where certain people present at the Destiny Party's election night revelries gave me a standing ovation that I realised the culmination of this campaign was becoming even odder than I had envisaged.
Given that I disagreed with most of what their party stood for, it was an intriguing scenario, especially as I was supposedly only present to record the final instalment of my film on their crusade for political control.
The reason for the applause was that I had just secured for myself from their auction of election memorabilia what I considered to be the defining object both of their political history and of the entire election campaign.
This object was a Destiny Party campaign billboard, which an unknown someone had taken the liberty of removing in order to paint over everything but the official authorisation and leader Richard Lewis' face.
They had then added below Lewis' visage the body and ship of a pirate, and the simple words "Phwarrr, make me day me hearties, vote Labour". They had then returned the billboard.
To this day I cannot decide whether it was someone incensed with the party's election platform or a Destiny supporter trying to reinvigorate their campaign.
Still, when it comes to adding their creativity to political campaigns, New Zealanders are no shrinking violets.
Advertising supremo Kevin Roberts was invited by the Pentagon to chat about a better catchphrase to describe their current state of perpetual war.
His input apparently resulted in the rather pithy phrase "the fight for a better world".
This is the least sensible idea I have seen since someone decided to threaten the Sky Tower with a small plane in an apparent attempt to re-woo a woman.
Surely anyone who fights believes that they are fighting for their version of a better world? After all, very few people fight to make it a worse world.
Still, as Roberts, in marvellous marketing understatement, observed, "the war on terror doesn't have a lot of positive equity going for it".
Neither, it seems, did the Destiny campaign. As the results rolled in, many at the gathering looked forlorn; others looked totally bewildered as to how they had fared so dismally. It was as if they couldn't fathom how God had forsaken them.
Bishop Brian, the spiritual leader and inspiration for the (supposedly non-church-aligned) party, declared that, despite the result, his mission to impose the Kingdom of God on the nation would continue.
At the end of the proceedings Richard Lewis kindly signed my new artwork. "To Te Radar," he wrote. "There's always a place on our list for you."
"Crikey," I exclaimed, "you've lowered your standards in the last few minutes."
Still, they wouldn't be the only ones, given the standard of some of those who've just been allowed to enter Parliament.
<EM>Te Radar:</EM> As God forsook Destiny's children, they cheered anyway
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