Steve Braunias: The Secret Diary of ... Chris Hipkins

Chris Hipkins has been the driver of the Government bus since January 22. Photo / Mark Mitchell

OPINION

MONDAY

The Government bus has been a bit off the pace lately so I took it into the garage for a check-up.

“I’m not sure what the problem is, exactly,” I said to the mechanic.

He opened up the hood, and said, “You don’t look as though you know much about the Government bus.”

“On the contrary,” I said. “I’m very familiar with the Government bus.”

“Well,” he said, “are you the driver of the Government bus?”

“Since January 22,” I said.

He closed the hood, and said, “Not long then.”

“Long enough,” I said.

He got on a creeper and rolled beneath the bus, and called out, “But for how much longer?”

“I don’t like where this is going,” I said. “Can you tell if there’s a problem with the Government bus?”

He rolled the creeper out, wiped his hands, and said, “Yep.”

“Is it the steering?” I asked.

“The steering’s okay,” he said.

“Is it the block?” I asked.

“The block’s okay,” he said.

“Is it,” I asked, “the crankshaft? The dipstick? The intake manifold?”

“Mate,” he said, “the problem with the Government bus is that the wheels have fallen off.”

TUESDAY

I walked to work.

WEDNESDAY

I walked to work.

THURSDAY

I walked to work, and called into a cafe for a cup of tea and a sausage roll.

Stuart Nash was there.

“I’m just leaving,” he said, and walked into the distance.

Meka Whaitiri was there.

“I’m not here,” she said, and walked into the distance.

Michael Wood was there.

“I’ll get around to it,” he said.

I said, “What?”

“The shares. My shares information. I’ll get around to it,” he said.

I said, “It’s a bit late.”

“No, look, I’m on top of it. You know me. We go way back. You can trust me. I can fix this. It won’t take a minute,” he said.

I drank my tea, ate my sausage roll, and walked into the distance.

FRIDAY

I called into the garage to see how the mechanic was getting on with the Government bus.

“I’m giving it a 36 per cent approval rating,” he said.

“That’ll do me,” I said.

“Yeah,” he said, “it could be worse.”

“But,” I asked, “are the wheels back on?”

“Mate,” he said, “it’s whether they’ll stay on is the issue.”

I sighed, and looked around the garage.

“Hey,” I said, “is that Christopher Luxon over there?”

“Yep,” he said.

Luxon was standing beside a Tesla and looked deep in thought.

“Is that his Tesla? I asked.

“Well,” he said, “it seems he doesn’t rightly know if it’s his, or his wife’s, but either way, he doesn’t want to come right out and say he owns it.”

I got in the Government bus, and started it up. It seemed to be running fine. I checked the rear-view mirror, saw Luxon still dithering by the Tesla, and drove off. Sometimes you just have to back yourself.