Sheepgate weighs heavily on the mind of Foreign Affairs Minister Murray McCully. Photo / Sarah Ivey
"Well," said JK, "things are getting a bit hot with you around. People are finding out too much about the special arrangement we made with our friend in Saudi Arabia."
"Damn that Heather du Plessis- Allan and her excellent reports," I said.
"Never trust a woman who doesn't wear a ponytail," he said, and looked deep into his glass.
"I didn't do anything wrong," I said, and polished off my wine.
JK said, "No. But anyway. Let's put you on a plane somewhere."
He topped up my glass. "When," I said.
"Now," he said.
"No, I meant stop pouring."
"No, I meant your flight."
There was a knock on the door. A man walked in with a suitcase in his hand. "Am I right," he said, "in thinking you take a size 52 Y-front?"
I said to JK, "Where are you sending me?"
He said, "Flight leaves tonight for the Middle East. There's a peace process thing going on there and I've managed to swing you a seat at the table. And seeing as you're there ..."
"Pay a visit to our friend?"
"You read my mind."
"Oh God," I said. "Keep pouring."
"My good friend Murray," said Saudi businessman Hamood Al Ali al-Khalaf.
"Allah Akbar," I said.
"If you say so," he said. "Tell me, good friend Murray, do you bring gifts?"
"Would you like a little 'wool'?"
"Do you have some?"
"Yes sir, yes sir," I said. "Here's three bags. Full."
"Thank you," he said. "It's best if you pass it to me under the table. We don't want people seeing the extent of our special arrangement."
"But we're in the New Zealand agrihub in the middle of the desert," I said. "There's no one here."
"Under the table," he said. His voice took on a threatening edge to it.
I began passing the bags. "No," he said, "you get under the table and pass them up."
I got down on all fours. It was very uncomfortable; the Y-fronts were much too tight. After a while, I became aware that something was nuzzling my bottom. I turned and saw a ram.
"You New Zealanders", laughed al-Khalaf. "Always with the sheep."
To Jerusalem for the peace process thing, where I discover that my seat at the table is at a table in the kitchen.
"You there," scowled a man in an apron, "make yourself useful."
He handed me a chop. "Dress it," he said.
"Is it pork?"
"What do you think?"
I drizzled the lamb with a bottle of mint sauce I took from the New Zealand agrihub.
"Not bad," he said.
"I can get you more where this came from," I said.
"How much?"
"I'm sure we can work something out," I said.
Never let an opportunity go to waste!
Day two of the peace process thing. The kitchen sent me into the discussion room to collect the plates. I recognised Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, and Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas.
I coughed, and said, "Murray McCully, Foreign Minister, New Zealand. Listen - this dispute the two of you have been having for a while now. Why can't we all just get along?"
"Get out," they said, in unison.
I felt proud to have initiated a rare accord.
"My good friend Murray," said Hamood Al Ali al-Khalaf.
"Nice of you to see me off at the airport," I said.
"I bring gifts," he said. "Free trade."
I swallowed hard. "Do you mean," I said, "our special arrangement has persuaded the Saudi Government to remove a block to a free trade deal with New Zealand?"
He stared at me and said, "What? No. I mean this. Here! Your friend from the other day - yours to keep, no charge."
The ram looked up at me with what looked like a smile on its face.
Keira Hayidakis, 18, fought off rough waves and strong currents to save two children.