Jon Gadsby: Just can’t see the wood for that tree

The cabinet meeting was in full swing, the Prime Minister on her feet.

"We've spent 150 million knackering the West Coast logging industry, why stop there?

A far-sighted coalition would spend a further 250 million to stop rampant dairy farming in the Waikato, and a billion or so to halt exploitive wool-growing in Canterbury.

Several hundred K should put the kibosh on the Taranaki oil business, and to stamp out aluminium smelting in Southland is going to cost us bugger all relatively speaking, not to mention Sue Kedgeley's pigs! " Thankfully, no-one had, so far.

The cabinet nodded respectfully. The leader beamed and continued: "Are there any other productive and revenue-earning enterprises that we could strangle out of existence in the name of conservation?"

Jeanette Fitzsimons cleared her throat. "Yes. Auckland." The Prime Minister nudged the semi-comatose Dr Cullen sharply, causing the startled academic to choke.

"Stopping Auckland won't cost us anything," he spluttered.

"All productivity ground to a halt yesterday in the latest traffic jam. LTSA, is hoping to get the burned-out 'Mr Whippy' van off the motorway within days, and normal traffic should resume in a week or so, or as soon as kaumatua have lifted the appropriate tapu from the harbour bridge of course."

"Excellent." The Prime Minister smiled. "But that still leaves us with the problem of the West Coasters." A Greens' spokes-thing appeared to regain consciousness momentarily.

"Why are they a problem?" he mumbled, through a mouthful of hemp. Helen Clark flashed him an asbestos-cutting smile and continued.

"A thought occurs to me (and oddly enough, it had.) What happens if the Coasters defy us - simply carry on with their thoughtless logging and pause only to raise their soiled and poorly manicured middle fingers in our direction?" Most of the cabinet shuddered like blancmange at the very thought.

Jim Anderton was dismissive. "Then we'll use force." he stated. "With my current mandate at around 4 per cent of the electorate, and the undeniable support evinced by the latest 'margin for error,' I feel truly empowered to use the brute power of the state in furtherance of the common good, as I see it. The fact that the Alliance has bugger-all people supporting it these days, should not daunt us from wielding the sword of social equity on behalf of our non-existent supporters, and holding true to the principles they didn't elect us on." The cabinet appeared stunned, though Dr Cullen began clapping absent-mindedly and was elbowed brutally by the PM.

"How?" queried Mark Gosche, ever the pragmatist.

"How what?" snarled the Deputy Prime Minister, contemplating his sword, and his margin for error.

"We could send in the Police?" suggested Sandra Lee, the optimist.

"There are 2.7 constables stretched between Hari Hari and Martins Bay," stated the member for Westland, a pessimist.

"The Army then?" A humourist?

"It's in East Timor, all three of them," offered the Minister of Defence. A pragmatist.

"The Navy?" This was greeted with guffaws.

"The Air Force?"

"Sadly, private aircraft on the West Coast outnumber our depleted strike-force by about 100 to 1. What's more, most of them are faster and far better armed than the Skyhawks." 'Bugger!'was the collective feeling.

The Prime Minister's gaze was drawn inexorably to the presence of Michael Joseph Savage, his portrait smiling benignly from the wall. "Don't underestimate the Coasters," she sighed. "The Labour Party has ancient roots down there after all." Several cabinet Ministers blushed in agreement.

"So what can we do with them?" asked a frustrated Trevor Mallard. "I mean they're not much removed from bloody Neanderthals are they? All they understand is endless rain, living rough, after-hours drinking, scoffing whitebait and cutting down trees."

The Prime Minister banged the table. Her eyes blazed molten cobalt as she gazed into the middle distance. Dr Cullen flinched in alarm and groped at his briefcase for appropriate medication.

"We'll shift them to Auckland, that's what we'll do with them."

"What?" gasped the cabinet.

Helen Clark faced them. "Imagine a hill," she whispered. "An exposed and rainy hill. Its dripping slopes invigorated and empowered by a large and rowdy tent settlement of some 60,000 souls, all sodden with drink. Plenty of pubs within taxi range, and knowing them as I do, they'll soon start their own canvas shanties and sly-grog shacks. It's in their blood. Now where am I talking about?"

"Mount Roskill?" hazarded Jim Anderton. The Prime Minister showed admirable restraint. "I'm talking about One Tree Hill." The cabinet gave a collective gasp.

"Precisely," she continued. The new home for the Coasters. Because what's on top of One Tree Hill?" She smiled enigmatically. The cabinet regarded her blankly.

"One tree?" suggested the Minister of Finance timidly.

"For the moment. And you may call it 'one tree,' Dr Cullen. I call it a forestry project. A giant forestry project, providing jobs, accommodation, and basic human dignity for 60,000 unemployed West Coasters. I'm sure Mike Smith will lend them a chainsaw. What more could they ask?"

"Whitebait probably?" suggested Jim Anderton, spitefully.

"We'll fly them in," beamed Helen. "Let's see the Air Force working for ordinary New Zealanders. Any discussion?"

"Can we call the project the 'Benefit Reticulation One Tree Hill Employment Launch,'" said Trevor Mallard "Why?" everyone asked.

"Work out the acronym," he laughed.

They tried to, without success, for the next three hours.