It was all in good fun to start off with.
It was your average Friday afternoon and riding the high of an almost certain second run at the top, JK called his fellow political chum Banksy for a chin wag and some good old-fashioned media coverage.
It was a nauseatingly orchestrated affair of course.
The swarms of hankering press would arrive, stumble frantically over themselves to catch a candid shot of the latest political couple and then, like good little journalists, they would bugger off, wholly satisfied in the presumptive knowledge that the conversation was no more politically relevant than the quiche selection.
That was the plan anyway.
Sometimes plans do not work out.
As it happens (and as it should have) one particularly fiendish member of the publishing pack saw the opportunity and leapt.
One recording, seven days and a political circus later, JK is beginning to seriously regret that cup of tea.
Moral outrage or not, it will be a matter of days before the now infamous tea tape rears its much anticipated (and probably rather amusing) head.
In a rather futile attempt to plug the public interest, Key has openly branded the tape's contents as "bland".
Charming though he is, the dear premier has clearly never learnt the physics of reverse psychology.
Like a 5-year-old on the monkey bars, John Key has found himself upside-down, begging the rest of the playground not to look at his undies.
As it would appear, the blush factor is somewhat upped when your playground holds four million.
Like anyone familiar with monkey bars knows, it is not a call likely to be heeded.
Everyone is looking, most are pointing and laughing, and the rest are taking photos. Although the tape and its contents are already in the process of being revealed, the whole debacle is of great intrigue regardless.
We humans are a fairly self-important bunch; uncomfortable with our own ignorance, we make up the details we don't know.
JK and Banksy could have been discussing anything from nuclear warfare to their preferred patio awning designs.
Thanks to an annoyingly cryptic reaction from the involved parties, the conversation is now speculated to have involved a deep-seated hatred for the elderly and a considerable amount of Brash-bashing.
Either way, the whole palaver has done wonders for the sex appeal of a cup of tea.
Sitting down for a warm brew is no longer the fare of the wrinkled and lifeless.
It is part of a covert operation, the beverage of the furtive elite.
The broadcasters are in a frenzy, the public wants answers and, just eight days from election time, Key is still dangling precariously from the highest bar in the playground.
All of that over some leaves in hot water ... who would have thought.
