Act Leader David Seymour took a break from Parliament to battle a nine-hole minefield at the Holey Moley Golf Club in Wellington. Photo / Mark Mitchell
How does one get to know a man who could be the next Deputy Prime Minister who’s just been pilloried for a joke about blowing up a ministry and claims the only way he unwinds is “sleep”?
Take him mini-golfing, of course.
The man in question is
His tempered enthusiasm for a pre-election interview while mini-golfing suggests the sport is not high on his hobby list. Aside from seeing him twerk, it’s not often Seymour ventures out of his comfort zone, so we don’t take no for an answer.
We agree to meet at 6pm. He’s late, but considering it’s August 22 and the House is in urgency as the campaign fast approaches, he’s forgiven.
Upon his arrival, we head straight to selecting a putter. An unplanned bonus is the blue and yellow putters are too short, forcing him to go with red.
“This could be the first time that red’s been effective but you know, if they had a good idea we’d take it,” Seymour proclaims, with his trademark grin.
A pre-planned bonus comes when Seymour is presented with his choice of Holey Moley’s oversized visors in either red, blue or green.
“Do you reckon this will end my career politically?” he asks, as he reluctantly chooses blue. It lasts all of five seconds on his head before he says “I reckon we could do without it”, and whips it off.
I claim it’s necessary for health and safety, threatening to call the manager who has already promised to provide backup if needed. Seymour consults a member of the public who advises him to keep it on if today’s outing is just for fun, or to ditch it if it’s serious - his decision to go visor-less says it all.
Seymour’s not short of ambition.
He’s led Act from its potential deathbed to bring nine other MPs into Parliament with him in 2020. Come October 14, Seymour hopes to double that feat and recent polling suggests he might just pull it off.
Seymour’s confidence is high as we approach hole 1. He attempts to bounce his ball on his club head - it glances off into some innocent bystanders enjoying a drink. One remarks the campaign hasn’t even started and Seymour is already bothering voters.
Seymour gets us underway on a skating-themed three-par. He safely navigates par while I bag a birdie.
“Well done, that’s outstanding,” Seymour says, his face not betraying any sign of worry.
I secure par (3) on the second and remember I need to ask him a serious question: How is he feeling 50-odd days out from the election?
“I’m feeling great, the numbers are good,” he says as he steps up to the second hole which features a loop-de-loop.
“It’s, at the moment, looking like it could be our best result ever.”
With excellent comedic timing, Seymour’s first putt fails to complete the loop and ends up back at his feet. “That’s not our best result ever.”
Things go from bad to worse. He finishes with six which is the maximum shot count at Holey Moley, a rule he claims to be a “very Labour approach”.
Pushed on how a National/Act coalition could make him Deputy Prime Minister, Seymour concedes it is a possibility but repeats his preference for policy over position.
“It could be a really big responsibility but people haven’t actually voted yet.
“So you just prepare ... we spend a bit of time working on what sort of policies we’d be ready to put into a coalition and make sure that we come out the other end in another three years and we’ve done good and people will want to keep their trust with us.
“I don’t think having that title is really an achievement, it’s just an opportunity to do good and you may not need the title to do the good.”
He has form in this area, having turned down becoming a minister to progress assisted dying legislation, which is now the End of Life Choice Act.
It’s his golf form that is the more pressing issue. Seymour admits it’s not one of his top talents, but doesn’t mind distancing himself from certain American political figures with a passion for the sport.
We both make par (3) on the third hole, named the Birdie Hunter. Known as one of the hardest-working politicians, what does he do to unwind?
“Sleep,” Seymour says in a depressed tone.
He later accepts that building his own car and time with friends could also be included.
“Remember we’re like urban, late 30s people [Seymour is actually 40 but rounding down is encouraged, especially in golf], so we have dinner parties. I know it sounds terrible but it’s a big thing at the moment.
“Other than that, basically I spend time with my partner and sleep.”
In the past, Seymour hasn’t been private about his search for love but he’s more reserved now, acknowledging that his partner didn’t choose to run for public office.
“Once you push your private life out, it’s fair game and at the end of the day, I’m not here to try and prove that I’ve got a better family than the other guys, I’m here because I have better policies and I’ll be a better politician.”
The fourth hole brings Seymour a two-shot birdie, but his joy is dampened as I manage a hole-in-one.
“Have you been to this place before?” Seymour asks, clearly suspicious of a set-up.
I don’t ask him whether it compares to the hole-in-one he witnessed from Sir John Key during a charity game with Kiwi golfer Ryan Fox, but suffice it to say, Seymour wasn’t hooting and hollering this time.
Five shots up on the Act Party leader with five holes to go, veteran mini-golfers would say Seymour’s goose was cooked.
However, the Epsom MP launches a comeback and in the fifth and sixth holes, he claws back two shots.
By the time we reach the E.T.-themed seventh, Seymour is so in the zone that he doesn’t hear being asked whether he’s seen the movie.
He says he feels no pressure as he sinks the two-shot par. Asked how comfortable he feels playing mini-golf in a suit, Seymour shoots back: “Much better than if I was wearing the visor”, a dig at my green headpiece clearly designed to put me off my game.
Former Act leader and minister John Banks once said Act’s success in 2020 was achieved through support from the disenfranchised. Does Seymour think the disgruntled will always be a core base for his party?
“No, I think more and more it’s positive,” Seymour says.
“I look at the people coming to our public meetings now, more and more people with pushchairs and what that’s telling me is people are motivated enough to come to a political meeting with small children and they actually are thinking about the future and what we can do, so I think there’s increasingly a positive message to it.”
Regardless, political commentators say Seymour is competing with NZ First’s Winston Peters, who is campaigning hard for voters who feel aggrieved following the Government’s approach to the Covid pandemic and race relations, among other things.
The risk of rattling Seymour as we approach the final holes prevents a follow-up question. No one wants to win like that.
Down three going into the last, victory is a long shot for Seymour. We return to his ongoing rise and that of his party. Would his mother Victoria be proud?
“It’s really hard to say because she always wanted me to be an engineer and she was mortified at my interest in politics,” Seymour says of his Mum, who died in 2007 when he was 24.
“She didn’t think Act would survive ... she thought I was wasting my time.
“I’d like to think that she’d be happy that I’ve done better at it than she probably thought, but I also suspect she’d still want me to be an engineer.”
Seymour finishes the final hole with a four-shot double bogey. I replicate him, taking the win by three shots.
Gracious in defeat, Seymour gets one last jibe in as his press secretary observes my poor attempt to conceal my satisfaction.
“Oh, he’s very serious, he’s wearing the visor.”
Adam Pearse is a political reporter in the NZ Herald Press Gallery team, based at Parliament. He has worked for NZME since 2018, covering sport and health for the Northern Advocate in Whangārei before moving to the NZ Herald in Auckland, covering Covid-19 and crime.
It follows a slew of complaints about Oranga Tamariki.