Satire - Scenes from a Neoliberal Government

The 8K drone footage raced over the rising Pacific surf, along the rugged coastline and swept up to the crest of the rocky cliffs, up and over the lip - where it rose in perfect stability - slowly above a palatial luxury mansion where the tax-less rich lived in glorious splendour on a groomed parklike estate.

The drone looked down as it passed over the spires and towers and all the assembled classic luxury cars parked in a crescent driveway far below.

Then starting an arcing descent it flew around and down along the ivory clad mansion face and slowed down at a smooth constant rate as it floated along an iron wrought balcony and came to a perfect stop at the open french doors.

A panel slid to one side on the face of the hovering drone and out flew a cylindrical metal hunter seeker probe - seeking the off site cabinet meeting already underway across the hallway, deep inside this building.

How else could the public really know, what was really going on behind those closed doors - so far away from democratic eyes, as the needle like spy probe flew straight and true across the ornate victorian room with all those pale colours which seemed more like something out of Buckingham Palace than just a rich donator's holiday home.

Crossing the corridor the probe soon hovered at the double doors where it inserted itself onto the lock like a futuristic spider - and quickly calculated the combination with unknown sensors, pushing the door slightly open and flying silently into the panelled room where gathered around a circular table sat the Cabinet team, with Christopher Luxon holding court, the same old jacket with the same old pin as he licked his lips like a lizard and his eyes jangled like nights on the ice.

"So I said to him, what I'd say to you is there's a range of advice, we are totally committed to our climate goals and with the greatest of respect I won't be lectured, but no I had not heard those comments made by Winston and he looked at me like we needed more than just the ETS", said Luxon shaking his head at these environmentalists and scientists. "Corporate welfare I said, keeping burning that coal, we need gas, we need fossil fuels , petrol forever!"

"Petrol forever!" said the room in unison.

"So let's hear some outcomes, Mark Mitchell have we restored law and order yet?" cracked Luxon.

"I drove to Gisborne, showed my face and got the hell out of there", said Mitchell, "TV one said the region next door did not have enough police staff to carry out an investigation. I could have smiled but I stayed frowning Sir"

"Excellent work" grinned Luxon, "So what you are saying to me is the police will do more for less and we've cracked down hard and solved law and order already. Give Mark a big clap everyone. Incredibly fast work. We can always blame Labour for this."

All hands around the table clapped vigorously.

"So Nicola, what I would say to you is - what would you say to me about those fully funded tax cuts we promised to deliver?" - smiled Luxon, "Are we on track and how big is your hole?"

"I told the plebs down at the wharves that we don't need railway ready ferries, and they seemed to agree, I mean who needs a train on a bloody ferry. Still they seem to be moaning, who isn't but I did laugh when Hipkins said he could tax us out of things" shrieked Willis, - a sound so shrill it made the seeker hunter probe turn down the gain on it's sensitive sound recorder preamps.

"You can't tax your way to prosperity", quipped the rubber lips of the crooked mouthed Seymour as Winston barked like a empty bottle, "Sit down sunshine, leave the quotes to me, I've seen this sort of thinking before in Nazi Germany, you tax the rich and everyone goes broke, go woke, go woke."

"Seriously, though Nicola, how big is your hole?" repeated Luxon his face looking like a greasy newspaper at a fush n chup shop.

"Well after Simeon screwed up the Transport plan by 16 billion", screeched Willis..."AFTER SIMEON SCREWED UP" she yelled again as Simeon protested ...

"Speak for yourself miss $800 Million wrong on interest deductibility and what about the $500 Million short on online gambling?" snapped Simeon like an irate gecko with his blood up.

"Can I get a word in?" complained Nicola with her head cocked to one side like a gasoline drinking sparrow in a too tight dress and a carrot up its bum.

"Calm down Simeon, what I would say to you is shut your mouth, clearly it's time to let Nicola talk, go ahead Nicola, how big is your hole today?" said Luxon remembering he was an expert at mergers and acquisitions on his fantasy CV .

"It's getting smaller"

"Yeah right" said a woman's voice before the room cracked up - in stupid private school laughter.

Todd McClay laughed like an Easter Bunny without a Free Trade Agreement while Penny Simmonds wheeled herself around in a wheelchair stolen from the disabled.

"Who said that? Who said that?", shrieked Willis as she scanned the room for the catty woman who stabbed her from the front.

"She did, she did, she did", said every MP pointing at Jude the Ripper who was holding a "Guilty sign" as her eyebrows danced like camels on a smooth desert forehead.

"JUDAS !!! How could you", gasped Willis her mouth a ring of horror.

"Well it's true, you young ones don't know what a big hole is. Like the patch legislation breached the Bill of rights and Doctor Shane would rather not say whether more people will die from lung cancer when we all know they will. I say delay, who cares about a promise. We break them every day".

"Oh don't be so dramatic you sound like Chlōe whatsitstick" said Erica throwing visas in the rubbish, "I suggest we all do an hour of reading and writing...every day and all our problems will be solved".

"At least Erica stopped the kids having warm dry classrooms", said Willis.

"And I took the starving kids free lunches away" scoffed Seymour.

"I cut half a billion from science funding when we need to innovate" boasted Jude, "but who hasn't?"

"I am chucking people and children onto the streets as fast as I can", laughed Chris Bishop fingering his smokes.

"The tobacco revenue is gold" said Casey coughing up a lung.

"5.6 Billion that's what she won't say", snapped Winston who had read Vernon Small but not Thomas Coughlan, about unders and overs and - "Now it's not certain although we're telling them it is I'd say her hole is bigger than the grand canyon."

"I strongly disagree", said Luxon, "I used to run an airline and I keep up with Ivy league kids, Nicola runs a very ...tight...ship ...and we intend to deliver tax cuts in July no matter the costs to the bottom feeders. But I want to be very clear - world class focused like a laser - can we just answer the question clearly, I don't know how to be any clearer? Have we cut enough jobs and caused enough ruin to pay for the tax cuts?"

"Not by a long way", said Seymour, "fifteen thousand more must go, that's the bottom line, just line them up and toss them into the job seeker queue mincer, it's really that simple", said Seymour tired of the argument cos he knew everything, always had, never learnt a thing.

"I'd like to make a motion without Justice" snapped Goldsmith like a staccato gingerbread man snapping and crackling.

"Just shut up and let Nicola finish" said Luxon banging his fist on the table.

"Apologies, apologies" quipped Goldsmith like C 3 P O.

"We need to cut thousands of more jobs and mess with front line services and we definitely need to screw the police, the defence force, the GCSB, the hospitals need to be left to rot, the ICU units to go to waste, we need to gut every greenie job, and screw every tree hugging lefty, and we need to let the ferries sink, and the 8,000 children die of lung cancer, 7000 go back into poverty and after we've taken away the wheelchairs, the free prescriptions, the mental health services, the suicide hot lines, and every skerrick those disgusting bottom feeder need to get by - we'll still be a few billion short - only a few billion - not like those ferries - so I say - do it and let's make up another bogus revenue making source up over gin and icecream" said Willis.

"That's brilliant thinking" said Todd.

"You're a world class genius", said Mark Mitchell like a talking hunk of four by two.

"I love it", said Luxon licking his lips, "So we will deliver tax relief, I knew we could afford it, wait till Hipkins sees it. His time has gone, he had his turn. Now its my turn and I am loved, I am working incredibly hard and fast at pace".

"Can we goof off now?", said Louise Upston, "We'll get cancer patients working 10 hours a week but I fancy that ice-cream".

"What I'd say to you, is that's enough for one cabinet meeting, I'm feeling like some hallway cricket, are you with me?"

"It would be an honour", said Chris Bishop waving his plastic bat and donning his cricket cap.

As the room descended into piggery and gluttony and self saucing privilege the hunter seeker drone backed up slowly and glided back out the double doors, ending the signal as it crossed the drawing room floor and out the window it docked back in the loading bay as the door slid across the drone's face - and it flew up, up and away, high over the estate.

Somewhere far away across the forests - in a small beat up car on a forest road - a flax bush guided the drone down to the ground as an organic punga shuffled over and picked it up.

"Let's get this back to G News", said the Flax bush - starting up the motor, "The people have got to see the truth".

"I doubt there's anything they didn't already know", said the organic punga.

"Tax cuts are not inflationary", warbled a majestical Tui on the back seat - as the small car drove away and you could hear it yell "YEAH RIGHT".

Satire - Scenes from a Neoliberal Government

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