Party time: Getting bums on seats the real punchline to this campaign

By JULIE MIDDLETON

"There'll be a few cats' arses when I get up there," he says, arranging his lips in appropriate fashion.

Standing in the dark and chilly shadows stage-side at the North Shore Events Centre, comedian Mike King knows he is a left-field choice to anchor National's campaign kick-off.

As King (black hair, black beard, black leather jacket, black trousers) bounds on stage, there are indeed some cats' bums in evidence and whispers of, "Who's this?" across the crowd (mainly older and white, odd pockets of Asian faces).



King is doing it, he says to the 700-odd English patients, for "my friend Bill. I've got his home phone number". He also has "free rein".

But in admitting that he does not know which names he will tick on July 27, King is probably the only undecided voter in the room.

Campaign launches draw the faithful. But this is a strange affair, straining for effect on a rainy Sunday afternoon. It seems directed more to television than the stalwarts.

Tilly Sands, a tiny 93-year-old, is on the arm of Rodney electorate chairwoman June Levet, a cheerful 67-year-old draped in blue and wearing a polystyrene hat announcing Women In National Networking (WINN, in other words).

Tilly Sands, who lives in a Wellsford resthome, has voted National all her life and is most proud of the fact that her birthday month - November - is the same as that of local MP Lockwood Smith.

The pair and 16 others have come down in a rented bus. If the launch marks a beginning, it does not mean the end to the fundraising.

"We made $3000 from a meat raffle - a whole beast, a pig and two sheep," says Mrs Levet. "We've been working like billy-o the last four months."



It is well before wine o'clock but in best party/party politics spirit, there are Corbans wines, dainty cakes and scones in the foyer.

The programme proper starts with entertainment, incongruously young, brown and boisterous.

The energetic stamping of a Lynfield College cultural group rolls thunder across the hall; several older pairs of hands creep across ears.

An Excel Performing Arts School group called Jirah, dressed in vaguely thuggish, street-style black, race from gospel to haka to hip-hop, sending up Amazing Grace on the way.

If members of the crowd are a bit uncomprehending, cues are available from candidates in the front row. They are quick to throw choruses of "hear, hear!" into the air, first on their feet in a standing ovation as Mr English arrives and leaves.

In the foyer, alongside more drinks and nibbles, are sitting piles of round ... well, things. They are like oversize coasters with a finger-sized hole cut into them and bear the cheery faces of National candidates on either side. Something to wave in the air perhaps?

Tilly Sands, working her way through a cuppa and a cake, reckons they are frisbees.

Mrs Levet has a better idea. "We've got a fundraising dinner tomorrow night. We'll use them as place mats, but only on the top table."

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