Right from the very first day at Parliament, Judith swept in through the corridors of power like a broom the likes of which no one had seen before. They were powerless to resist the force of its handle and the sharpness of its bristles. She castthem aside like dust.
"It doesn't so much sweep," they said in hushed voices, "as crushes."
Her fame and prowess soon made her a force to be reckoned with and it was obvious to all that she was headed for the top. To the office of the Prime Minister. To the chair of the Prime Minister. To the desk of the Prime Minister, where she would arrange framed photographs of those closest and dearest to her, including a dozen selfies.
(Good start to my new book! But maybe it moves a little too fast. I want to linger over my many, many triumphs. And perhaps the heroine needs to be a little less earth-bound.)
CHAPTER ONE
Flight-Lieutenant Collins of the First National Fleet Starship from the Papakura Galaxy stood at the deck and surveyed the infinite canopy of deep space.
An alien spaceship approached. Its commander seemed human. It had eyes, ears, a mouth and male-pattern baldness. But the similarity ended there. If it were human, it wouldn't have got into such a hopeless mess with the kitset model of a house it was trying to assemble in the spaceship basement.
I'm happy to give advice to the Government on KiwiBuild at any stage. Photo / Dean Purcell
"What should we do," asked Corporal Bridges, an intern.
"Blow him to kingdom come," I said, and launched a hail of criticisms.
When the smoke cleared, there was just the infinite canopy of deep space.
"Hurrah! We killed him," cried Intern Bridges.
"Correction, kid," I said. "I killed him."
(Yeah! Killed him! That's good stuff! But Perhaps it slightly glorifies Twyford to imagine him at war in deep space. Perhaps I need it to be a little more realistic.)
CHAPTER ONE
I've been proven right. KiwiBuild, Labour's flagship housing policy, is a total failure.
I'm happy to give advice to the Government on this at any stage. They've ignored everything I've said to them in the past.
One doesn't like to say, "I told you so." And it's so seldom that we ever get that opportunity. But, yes, I did say that this would happen. I told you so. I told you so. I told you so. I told you so. I told you so.
(Maybe a bit much? Readers want a likeable character.)
CHAPTER ONE
A typical day is when I help a little old lady across the road, and then give a most entertaining talk about politics and needlework to a U3A class.
But I'm aware I always have so many other duties to perform, such as baking scones and biscuits for a school gala and, if possible, to spend a little me-time in the garden.
My project at the moment is to plant Tahitian pōhutukawas next to gardenias, with catnip as a ground cover.
People say, "But when will you achieve your manifest destiny and become Prime Minister?"
I just smile, and say, "All in good time."
(God almighty. Books are harder than they look. I'm trying to focus on my political career and aspirations but sometimes it reads like nothing substantial ever happens.)
